Chapter 50 - Serafina
SERAFINA
It’s been three weeks since my engagement, and not a single day has been pleasant. It hasn’t been as simple as putting the entire thing aside until the wedding when everyone else is weighed down by it, being a constant reminder.
Vanessa’s either very present or very absent, more often on the phone with Zeno, discussing Alessio’s demands.
He’s insisting on a large wedding because he wants the entire world to know about it, which means inviting all Five Families of the Cosa Nostra, as per tradition—which means hundreds of strangers will be present to watch me sign my life away.
When she’s not working, she and Anastasia slipped away to Toronto to retrieve her cousin and his girlfriend, Katya.
Finally, I’ve gotten to meet Dimitri—my half-cousin, technically—and while nice, he’s mostly stuck to himself and is often away from the mansion.
Vanessa explained Katya will be moving to Moscow, and he’s preparing their new house.
Anastasia has a few roles to busy herself with, but she pulled back from most of them to make herself available for the infrequent instances Lev is away for work.
Even Zeno’s been stopping by Moscow more. He’s completed the trip once per week for the past three. With him around, life pauses. Lev won’t even look at me, treating me like a stranger. Plus, my brother constantly dredges Alessio up, so I kind of hate his presence.
And then there’s Lev, who’s halfway to manic these days. When we’re not together, his gaze remains on me, and when we’re alone, he won’t stop touching me.
Still…it’s not the same. When Lev is watching me, there aren’t positive emotions in his expression, but fear, even when trying to mask it. It’s longing and terror mingling into confusion.
One random day two weeks ago, he snapped, dragged me to the gym the Bratva soldiers work out in, kicked everyone out, and forced a knife into my hand. He’s been desperate to get me to learn skills I clearly don’t have.
I’m petrified for the wedding night, though I won’t admit that to anyone—afraid I won’t be able to do it, that something will go wrong and he’ll turn on me. Maybe I’ll flinch at the last second over the idea of taking a life.
After a training session, I retreat to my bedroom to study, though not really digesting any of the facts. It isn’t long into my pointless study session that Vanessa and Anastasia knock on my open door before entering with a large, white box.
Anastasia’s gaze is apologetic as Vanessa rests it in front of me. “From Alessio.”
The lid is engraved with a famous Italian designer’s name, hinting at what’s inside. Bile fills my throat.
“Asshole’s so controlling, he’s picking her dress?” Anastasia grumbles.
Vanessa’s looking at me rather than the box. “Did you want to try it on? We’ll need to check the sizing and then figure out the best places to conceal weapons.”
Try it on? She wants me to put the dress on? The very symbol of what’s to come. The decision made. My possible mistake.
Suddenly, she reaches over and sets her hand on mine, her touch soothing the grip I’ve unknowingly latched onto the cardboard. “It doesn’t have to be today. Soon would be best…but not now. Alright?”
I only nod, and she and Anastasia leave.
When I was a kid, I envisioned wedding dress shopping with Madre and friends, though Alessio doing the work feels appropriate.
Considering our marriage will be hopefully a moment in time that’ll be cast from memory, it wouldn’t be fair to endure the shopping aspect, feigning pleasure in deciding my appearance for him.
That’s what I try to remind myself as I lift the glossy, thick white lid from the base, being met with more white. A folded-up note rests on top of the dress. With cold fingers, I pick up the cardstock, noting the embossed AV by the top.
Signorina Mancini,
This is what you will wear to walk down the aisle to me.
Since you’re new to our world, I’ve taken it upon myself to ensure you will be a bride worthy of a Vitale.
Every Five Family will be in attendance.
All Capos, their wives, children, most trusted advisers, and the five Commission members. You will not embarrass me.
Which brings me to my next point.
The wedding will go off without a hitch.
This will be what the entire Cosa Nostra expects from us: a grand ceremony in an approved church, under the eyes of God.
Our union will be blessed by a priest I am flying in from my own church.
He has wed every Vitale and will continue to do so.
You will not bother with bridesmaids, and I will forgo groomsmen.
I am quite eager to get to the vows, and watching other women walk down the aisle does not interest me.
Following the ceremony, we will go down the street to the hotel for the reception.
You will smile and play the joyful bride.
We will dance. You may speak with your Bratva friends.
You will do everything to appear like this is what you desire, or so help me, you will not like me for the remainder of our lives.
You will eat what is placed in front of you because I will not have a fainting bride.
You will drink no more than two glasses of champagne—and champagne only.
You will eat a small slice of cake, which I’m told will be magnificent. By ten, we will leave.
Until then…
Have Volkov inform your school you will no longer be attending. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. But you won’t return after this week.
Your new friendships in Russia will end. Use the reception to say goodbye. The morning after, we will travel to my home, where you will have no further contact with the Bratva. I will wipe their numbers from your phone myself if I must.
This includes Lev Petrov. You already know what’s expected of you as my wife. You will wear my ring and bear my children. If I catch word he’s sniffing around, deal or not, his life ends. Make no mistake—he will never touch you again. Ensure he’s aware of this, or it’ll be his head on the line.
Until next week, my beautiful bride.
—A.V.
The note falls from my hand as a new wave of rage consumes me. My body shakes, and the box is shoved off my lap. Behind my palms, tears drip; this note is simply the start. Demanding and cruel—exactly what he’ll be.
It’s temporary. It’ll be over soon.
Inhaling, I reach inside the box for the gown.
Temporary, temporary, temporary. One night. A few hours to survive.
The gown is lifted halfway out of the box, enough to glean a general idea of the design. It’s pretty, with a sweetheart neckline, floral lace overlaying the bodice, clinched until mid-thigh before it flares into a long train, but it’s nothing I’d have chosen.
“What’s that?”
Lev’s voice, his sudden intrusion, has me dropping the dress like it’s on fire, spinning to catch him in the entranceway. Eyes as dark as this very moment narrow on the gown, and his expression narrows. “Oh.”
“Alessio sent it,” I explain before he incorrectly assumes I picked it.
“I’ll be in the basement,” he mumbles before disappearing, leaving a different sense of emptiness behind.
Once his steps fade down the hall, I turn back to the box with a scowl. Beneath the dress is a pair of white heels, teardrop earrings with a matching necklace, and a veil also lined in a flower pattern.
I stuff everything back into the box and slide the entire thing beneath my bed, rushing from the room to escape.
No one’s downstairs, allowing me to slip into the basement undetected.
I find him at his computer desk, a game on the screen.
His fingers rapidly stab the keys, the volume hiked to fill the space with the sound of computer-generated bullets aimed at virtual enemies.
It’s loud enough to mask my steps, though he doesn’t react when my hands rest on his shoulders.
He simply taps the spacebar to pause the game and turns halfway, reaching to pull me onto his lap.
He buries his head in my hair, whispered words tickling my skin.
“The dress makes it seem so much sooner.”
“Less than a week,” I reply, slumping in his hold. “Faster it comes, the faster it ends.”
He lifts from my shoulder, expression pinched. He brushes hair off my shoulder, leaving my skin bared to avoid looking me in the eye. “I hate that you’ll be walking the aisle to him.”
“If it makes you feel better, you’ll be who I’m imagining.”
Did I just say that out loud?
The way he stiffens beneath me suggests that yes, I did.
“I mean—”
He grasps my chin and turns my head towards him, his eyes capturing mine as much as the arm around my waist. “Don’t take that back. Not if you actually meant it.”
For three weeks, I’ve debated what’ll propel me from one end of the aisle to the other, and the answer always comes back to Lev. To imagining him waiting for me instead. Picturing him as the vows are spoken.
“I do. It’s how I’ll get through.”
“I’ll be right there,” he promises, his vow settling into my skin, followed by his mouth. “Every painful second, I’ll be by the front with the others. No matter what you’re feeling, know I’m there with you. Waiting for you.”
“And when I’m picturing his death?”
“I’m doing the same, probably with more vivid details; ones you’re too innocent to picture.”
A new image slips through my head: of Lev standing above a bruised and battered body, weapons in each hand, blood staining his skin. A killer. A Bratva soldier.
“Sometimes, I forget who you really are.” I glance towards the server rack at the side of the room, the TV set-up to our right “That you’re not only a computer guy. You’re a fighter. A killer. I like it. I like you for who you are.”
“I like you too, printessa.”
You care about me. The moment we shared in my brother’s pool officially planted itself into my brain, becoming one of a few that’ll get me through the ceremony.
I glance at to the screens, if only for something else to say. “Gaming.”
“Needed something to focus on. Want to try again?”
In Alessio’s proposed world, video games won’t make it on his approved list of activities. If I fail at murdering him, I’ll be gone for good. Both options have me agreeing to Lev’s offer, aware this might be my final week of normalcy.
A fear that latches onto my nerves but with a deep breath, I bury it beneath everything Lev has become to me while readjusting on his lap until I’m facing the screen, legs between his. Focusing on the alternate outcome makes it real, and it will not be real, damn it.
He clenches my hips, positioning me better. “Remember the controls?”
“I think so.” I drag the keyboard closer, then the mouse, and un-pause the game, thrown straight into the middle of the battle my arrival interrupted. With a small squeak, my hands go nuts, trying to click all the correct keys, but then dying within seconds.
I’m quick to restart the round, this time prepared for the initial wave. Enemy after enemy goes down, and I end up leaning closer to the screen as I successfully begin making it through the building, life intact.
Lev’s hand slide from my hips to my front, one on my thigh, one on my stomach, pressing me into him, even as I continue contorting myself to reach the desk. His fingers slip beneath my tank, warm and protective.
He makes me feel protected. Safe.
He’s also the least safe decision I’ve ever made.
He strokes my stomach, his other hand slipping further down my leg until it finds the edge of my shorts, sliding beneath, slowly inching to my centre and causing my focus on the game to wane.
He continues upwards, thumb brushing the skin between my thigh and core. He ducks to whisper in my ear, “Be good for me, printessa. Kill my enemies while I play with you.”