Chapter 6
Enzo
Gemma sat at the edge of her seat all the way to the church, exhaling long, shallow breaths, loud enough to echo over the hum of the engine.
Regardless of my desire for her, this wedding, this necessary sacrifice, was for my family.
If this ceremony failed, Carina would paint the church walls in blood.
That woman waited far too long for her revenge to have it all blown to smithereens now.
I clenched my jaw, a cold chill seeping into my bones.
Everything will go according to plan, I’d make sure of it.
The driver circled around the side, and the guards greeted us as we approached the back entry.
Clasping her arm, I marched us into the building, where the air lay thick with incense and candle wax.
Light from the colorful windows painted her face in shifting hues of blue and red.
Her small wrist felt as fragile as the stained glass windows, and she battled to keep pace with my purposeful stride as we moved down a wide corridor.
I opened the door to where her father slumped in a corner.
Her gaze landed on him. In an instant, she fought for freedom.
I swung her to me, close enough to brush her with my heat, closer still for her to witness the intensity in my stare, my ferocity daring her to pull a stunt like yesterday.
Even with the little effort she put into getting ready, her delicate beauty stole my breath.
Her throat bounced, and her amber eyes rounded into liquid pools, drawing me in like a current.
I released her at last, and she ran into his embrace.
They latched onto each other for dear life as Signore Gallo kissed his daughter’s head. “Are you all right?” He cupped her cheeks, perhaps in search of any cuts or bruises.
She nodded in response. Her chin wobbled as if too choked to speak.
I held open the door, but paused before leaving. “See you at the altar, Gemma.”
Her head shot up.
Oof , if looks could kill. I slammed the door and nodded to the two guards.
Carina paced in the foyer, the simple black dress she wore more suited for a funeral than a wedding. A dapper Lucio, in a fitted tux, yawned and scrolled through his phone.
I glimpsed my watch. “Has the priest arrived?”
“He’ll be here soon, but look who’s here.” She nodded to the entrance, at the woman thrashing in the arms of two guards.
Elisabetta Russo stopped resisting the instant she discerned Carina and blew her dark fringe from her eyes. Amber eyes widened, the same amber as Gemma’s. “Carina!” The woman trembled and expelled a pained gasp. “Of course you’d be behind this.”
My stoic mother moved with chilling slowness as she circled her nemesis, each step a measured threat, her face betraying nothing.
“What do you want from me, Carina?” Elisabetta gasped, a clear sign she’d exerted all her energy wrestling in the guards’ hold.
Carina paused beside the woman and simpered. “Imagine my surprise, learning you refused to travel to Italy for your daughter’s wedding. Every mother should be present for the most important day of their daughter’s life.”
The woman twitched and paled. “Gemma,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling as though failing to catch her next breath. “Have you hurt my daughter?” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Answer me!”
“Hush.” My mother’s features hardened into a concrete mask, but a satisfied glint flickered in her hazel eyes.
She savored each minute of this, finding release after years of resentment.
How many nights had she visualized and replayed this scenario in her mind?
Carina glanced back at me. “Do you remember my son, Enzo? He was but a boy when you came into our lives and stole his father’s affections.
” She turned back to face Elisabetta. “Can you imagine what that trauma does to a boy, how it shapes them into a man colder than ice?” Carina snorted, her humor sounding forced.
“Makes you wonder what type of provider, husband , he’d make for his own future wife… .”
Elisabetta perceived me, breath quivering out of her.
My mother nodded at another guard off to the side. “Bring out the bride.”
Before the man hurried to obey, my guard burst into the hallway. “Enzo! Gemma and her father… almost escaped!” He leaned his hands on his knees, panting.
Carina’s eyes flashed; a warning to fix this or else.
I cursed under my breath and shoved past my mother’s men.
“Gemma!” Elisabetta’s scream echoed behind us, the woman finally aware of her daughter’s whereabouts.
“They shouted fire , so we opened the door. Signore Gallo used a candelabra to whack Vincenzo and urged his daughter to run. I caught her before she reached the back door.”
My feet ate the distance. “And Vincenzo?”
“He recovered fast and forced Signore Galo back into the room.”
Anger seared in my veins, building, bubbling.
Their insolence uncapped a turbulent darkness inside me.
I swung the door to a shaken Gemma and Gino crouched in the corner, holding one another.
Whipping out my gun, I snatched Gino by the collar, heaved him off his feet, and placed my gun at his temple.
My beautiful bride screamed and sagged to the tiles. “Don’t, Enzo! Please don’t!”
“Didn’t I make clear what would happen if you escaped?” Stubborn woman proved a lot more work than expected, but like a wild mare, she’d break.
She clutched at my leg, head bowed. “Please,” she repeated in a sob.
Her grip on my leg twisted my gut. A harsh breath escaped me at the sight of her like this, but Carina wouldn’t stop.
Gemma risked everything by running. “How much is he worth to you?” I bit out, the demand laced with trembling rage…
and fear. Did she think I wanted a mother like this, a woman who held no shred of love and her only purpose for living was to vindicate her wounded pride?
No, of course not, Gemma had no clue who we were or what our goal was.
She had no inkling I wanted Carina better, but to do so meant allowing my mother to find peace in serving justice.
This marriage was the only way to achieve that while keeping everyone alive.
She had no idea the depths my mother would sink to.
If this wedding didn’t happen, Carina would make sure Gemma’s parents paid the ultimate price.
She hyperventilated, her trembling fingers struggling at gripping my leg. “Enzo, I’m begging you!”
Begging me? The idea hitched my breath. A cruel request, but I needed control, needed her to realize what was at stake. “Prove it.” I cocked the gun. Her sharp inhales ceased. “Beg to marry me.”
Her eyes widened, and for a second, defiance flickered, but died.
Better to kill her defiance than her loved ones. “You heard me, Gemma.” I dug the gun into her father’s temple and he whimpered. “Beg to marry me, and I’ll let your father live.”
Her grasp on my leg tightened. “Please, Enzo.” Her plea left soft, shaken lips. “ Please … I want to marry you.”
“Gemma,” Gino sobbed, a broken gasp of utter defeat.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, a sudden nausea twisting my gut. Sweat dampened my shirt at her broken words. I lowered my gun, repulsed by my own performance, the heavy lead, a weight of guilt in my hand. Snatching her elbow, I tugged her to her feet.
“Gemma, no.” Gino gritted his teeth and fell to his knees. The gravity of the circumstance crumpled him.
She swiped at her tears. “Shh, Papa. It’ll be all right.” Her tone rose above a whisper. “I have to.”
Vincenzo remained slumped in the corner, hand still clutching his head, grimacing. One guard down. I twisted to Roberto. “Escort Signore Galo. Let’s get this show on the road.” I hooked her arm, led her outside and down the hall, into the presence of her mother.
“Gemma!” Elisabetta squirmed to break free from the guards.
A rigid Gemma stared at the floor, ignoring Elisabetta. Had she even noticed her mother? Her mind must have grown numb. No stunt we pulled shocked her now. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, fighting the unwelcome pity. Not today, not when we were so close to our goal.
“Gemma. What have they done to you?” Elisabetta sobbed, her wide, pleading eyes fell on my mother. “Carina, let her go.”
“Not yet. I will let her go, but not yet.” Carina sauntered to Elisabetta’s side, her steps measured.
“Once she’s a broken shell of her former self, I’ll send her back to you.
” Carina inhaled a deep breath. “So you’ll understand the nightmare you made me live all those years ago.
Your daughter’s brokenness will mirror the pain you inflicted on me and my family. ”
Elisabetta bowed her face, her body shaking with her sobs. “I’m sorry, Carina. I’m so sorry. Leave my daughter out of this. Do whatever you want to me, but let her go.”
Gemma emerged from her trance, her head whipping in my direction. “What does she mean?”
Carina tilted her head at the bride. “So, your mother spared you the details of her affair with a married man? How she’d wrecked an entire home because she couldn’t keep her greedy hands to herself.”
She huffed at her mother, the broken sound matching the tears pooling in her eyes. “Mum?”
Elisabetta bellowed a sob. “It happened years ago, before I met your father. I was young and selfish, and I made a mistake. Gemma, I messed up—”
Carina slapped Elisabetta across the cheek, the crack echoing through the church. “How dare you justify yourself, knowing full well I came to you at the start, begging you to leave, but you stayed!”
“Don’t touch my mother!” Now Gemma thrashed for freedom.
The priest chose this opportune moment to enter, twitchy and sweaty, no less nervous than the bride’s parents.
“Are we ready?” He flinched at the sight of my mother, his gaze darting anywhere but her.
More than simple nerves, but fear radiated from the old man.
Had he heard the rumors about her over the years?
Priest Killer . Carina hadn’t just paid him; her very existence terrified him into compliance.
Without making eye contact with any of the guests, and ignoring the obvious unrest in the room, he marched down the center aisle to the front.
We followed the old man to the main altar.
Gold leaf glinted on the towering reredos, reflecting the flickering candlelight that cast long shadows across the marble floor.
A ceremony to go down in the books: Gemma’s enraged father in one corner, and her mother a tearful mess in the other, both guarded to prevent any interference.
The pale priest rushed through the vows, stammering at lawful and almost skipping, forsaking all others .
Carina cleared her throat in the front pew; the quiet, yet harsh sound carried a threat all on its own.
The old man had been pale before. Now he turned downright ashen. “Do you, Enzo,” his voice squeaked, “vow before God to take this woman, Gemma Galo, to be your lawful wedded wife?”
I tucked a loose dark chocolate strand behind her ear, hoping to entice her to meet my stare. Ridgid as a stone statue, she avoided my gaze and recoiled from my touch. “I do.”
The priest’s lips thinned, and he ran a finger along the inside of his collar. “And do you, Gemma, in like manner, promise to receive this man, Enzo Cammarta, as your lawful wedded husband, to be faithful to him, to be devoted and affectionate till death do you part?”
She scanned the marble floor, perhaps praying a portal would surface and swallow her. In her dreams.
“Gemma,” I whispered and jostled her arm to shake her from her daze.
She hiked her chin, once again refusing to meet my eyes, but scanning somewhere over my shoulder. “I do.”
We exchanged rings. A trembling Gemma needed help slipping my ring onto my finger.
“They have vowed, in the presence of God, to be loyal to each other—” My gorgeous bride winced at the old man’s words. “—They have forged the bond between them with the giving of rings. Therefore, I pronounce them husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
I leaned in, but as my face neared hers, she quailed away.
Grabbing the back of her neck, I shoved her close.
Scanning her eyes, her mouth, before slowly planting my lips on her cheek.
Her hard jostle revealed her urgency for distance.
Releasing her, I bit my inner cheek, letting her have this small victory, since none of it mattered now. It was done. We were married.