Chapter 7
Sienna Luciano
I pace from the window to the full-length mirror in my hotel room, unable to settle but also hesitant to leave early.
Romeo said he’d have a separate car sent to pick me up since he had other duties to attend before the wedding ceremony, but now I wish I had gotten his phone number. I could have used the hotel line to call him.
Even though the invitation requested I be part of the bridal party, my stepmother hasn’t forwarded me any other information and I figured, at the very least, Romeo would know when Valentina wants me to arrive.
I don’t trust him, but he’s my only way to get to the venue. My forty dollars won’t go far in a taxi, and I won’t dare risk ruining my dress by walking.
I swear I catch a faint whiff of cigarettes and cologne lingering in the air every time I pass the desk, but I shove the smell away as fanciful thinking.
I often have dreams of shadows looming over me, so of course my brain insists Romeo knelt beside me last night.
He couldn’t have visited me. I locked the door.
The minutes drag by until I worry I’ll pace a hole in the expensive carpet, so I slip my ID, cash, Romeo’s black card, and the two hotel room keycards into the small zippered pocket on the side seam of my skirt.
After a quick look over my shoulder at my only other belongings—the jeans, shirt, bra, socks, and shoes I wore during travel—I stride into the hall and shut the door behind me.
I take the elevator to the main floor and wander around the sparkling hotel for a bit, but there are no vending machines and the restaurant only serves sit-down meals.
Room service knocked on my door earlier today and dropped off a rolling cart full of food and drinks, but the only thing I could force myself to eat was the cheese and cracker tray since it still had the plastic seal on the container.
I shy away from thinking about the reason I can’t eat prepared food, the topic itself making me nauseous, and with so few calories in my body, I don’t dare waste them by throwing up.
I’m better fed today than I have been in a while, but my nervous energy and raised heartrate make me feel on the verge of collapse, so I perch on the couch in the lobby until my car arrives.
I swallow my apprehension as the driver leads me to a limousine.
Settling inside feels surreal. I sit alone and awkward in the empty, posh space as the vehicle floats down the road.
The trembling of my hands worsens as we pull up to a park with a quaint visitor center and rolling hills.
Blocked off to the public for Valentina and Mario’s wedding, we sit at the gate for a moment while the guard walks all the way to the back of the limousine to check my ID.
He thanks me and waves the driver onward.
I wring my hands together as we park beside the visitor center. A woman in an understated yet expensive dress welcomes me.
“Hi, I’m Becky, the wedding coordinator. You must be Sienna Luciano. Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. How did you know?”
“You’re the only one on the guest list who doesn’t have a picture and you pulled up in one of the nicest limos in the city. No one except the maid of honor fits the bill.”
I respond with a lame, “Oh.”
“It’s a simple ceremony, but we’re a little behind, so follow me, please.”
“I’m sorry, was I supposed to be here earlier? I—”
“No, sweetie, don’t worry about it. Everything is ready. All you have to do is walk down the aisle—solo since there’s only a maid of honor and best man—and stand a little off to the side. I’ll show you really quickly and then drop you off at the staging area.”
My mind runs in a million different directions. Romeo said he was in the bridal party, but I can’t fathom a world where he’s Zio Mario’s best friend. The entire situation feels off, but I can’t voice why, so instead I focus on my most important topic.
“Oh, um… will I get to see them before the ceremony?”
She checks her watch and scans the area as though searching for backup before responding.
“You might have time if we skip the rehearsal. Would you rather a quick walk through or a visit?”
Indecision grips me.
My heart begs for a visit while my brain demands I practice walking down the aisle.
The last thing I want is to wreck Valentina and Zio Mario’s wedding by either falling on my face or standing in the wrong place.
Embarrassing them on such an important day would destroy any hope I may have of earning their forgiveness.
“A walk through, please,” I answer.
Becky smiles and bounces along with a gesture for me to follow. After a single practice, I assure her I’ll be fine and stand in the shade near the back seats to wait my turn.
Unease wriggles down my spine. Despite the mild weather, nervous sweat pours down my sides, and my entire body shakes. The wedding planner hands me a small bouquet, so I hide my jitters by gripping the stems with both hands.
I expect either Valentina or Zio Mario, or both, to jump out and laugh in my face at any time for thinking they would actually want me there. The probability of Valentina slapping me is high. So is my uncle shooting me.
Or worse, they could stab me in the back and leave me to bleed out like my father did to Zio Mario.
I wouldn’t blame them, but fear and apprehension coil through me.
A few more attendees filter in until all the seats are taken. There aren’t many in attendance, but maybe these are the people who will understand the most just how horrible my betrayal was.
A man a few years older than me approaches and stops beside me. I swallow but my mouth is too dry to speak.
“You must be Sienna, right?”
My heart pounds in my ears. I nod.
He holds out his hand and says, “My name is Noah. I’m the best man. Nice to meet you.”
My mind goes numb. I peel my fingers off my bouquet and accept his handshake.
Romeo lied to me. I don’t know who my mystery mafia man is, but I should have listened to my instincts.
Embarrassment and an odd hurt pulse behind my sternum.
From saving me in the smoking area, to rescuing me on the plane, to watching me in the changing room and supporting me in the boutique, he was mocking me.
Testing me. For what, I have no idea, but he played me so well I ignored all the warning signs.
“Nice to meet you, Noah,” I manage through the emotions clogging my throat.
“We were worried you wouldn’t come. I’m glad you made it,” he says.
I force my lips into a smile even though I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or is issuing a threat.
“Me too,” I say.
The musician begins playing his acoustic guitar, and the officiant moves behind the podium.
“That’s my cue. How do I look?” Noah asks.
He adjusts his tie and rolls his shoulders back.
“Amazing,” I say.
His model-perfect smile probably makes all the ladies in his life swoon, but I don’t know him well enough to trust him.
“So do you,” he responds before striding down the aisle.
I take several deep breaths as I wait for him to clear the mark Becky pointed out to me, then walk toward the altar with as much grace as I can manage.
None of the faces in the crowd are familiar, but I look anyway to gauge their response to me.
The experiment offers me no insights. My uncertainty grows.
I stumble but regain my balance and stop where the wedding coordinator told me to.
As I turn to face the back, Noah nods at me. I offer him an unsteady half-smile.
My heart lodges in my throat as Zio Mario strides into view.
Tears burn the back of my eyes. He looks so much older than the last time I saw him, but even so, he’s handsome.
I fight the childish urge to run to him and wrap my arms around him.
I lost that right when I freaked out and shamed Valentina into writing all those nasty things down in her journal. I had no right to be so judgmental.
Joy, peace, and eagerness shine from his grey eyes. Any doubts I may have had over his interest in Valentina fade into nothingness. He adores her and can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her.
My heart yearns for the smile he aims at his best man. If he were my father, I’d kill to receive such a look from him.
Hell, I’d sacrifice myself a million times over just for one such look from him. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to undo the horrors I caused.
I stiffen as he shifts his gaze to mine. Time stands still even as his long legs carry him closer.
His expression tightens. I search for signs of anger and find none, but the flattening of his lips and carefully neutral set of his eyes don’t scream forgiveness and happiness.
My heart cracks in two. Pain streaks up from my palm, but I rarely register it through the agony in my soul.
Zio Mario pivots toward me and cups my shoulder. I wait for him to clamp down in a brutal grip, but he merely nods and moves to the other side of the altar.
He shares a half-hug with Noah.
Emotions clog my throat.
I don’t know what to make of the interaction. Does he forgive me? Is he annoyed I showed up? Is he going along with my presence just because his bride wants me here? Maybe he’s luring me in so he can deal with me in private. This could be him creating an alibi so no one suspects him of offing me.
Flooded with adrenaline and more unsettled now than I was before he appeared, I wring my hands around my bouquet.
Warmth trickles down my palm. I glance down and confirm my wringing hands tore the protective padding around the stems and sliced my flesh on a thorn. I close my fingers around the bouquet and pray the blood stays inside my fist.
Valentina steals my breath when she steps out from behind the partition. She’s gorgeous. Vibrant. Happy.
Too many emotions barrel through me. I can’t breathe. The world fades in and out, but I refuse to cause a scene by fainting and ruining my ex-best friend’s wedding to my uncle, so I loosen my knees and force my diaphragm in and out.
So many things happened since the last time I saw them.
They remind me of a time when the world was bright and full of love.
Sure, my childhood wasn’t perfect, but it also wasn’t horrendous either.
I had my mother, Valentina, her mother, and Zio Mario to protect me.
We were a family. My father and Valentina’s were important, powerful people, and they were around for most things but always felt a little detached, like they had too much power to really fit in.
Looking back, I realize it was because they were skeptical of everyone and untrustworthy themselves.
Then my father betrayed my uncle, Valentina’s mom left, my father brought home a pregnant mistress, and my mother got sick.
My bouquet shakes in my trembling hands. I wring the stems, forgetting about my cut, and curl my toes in the high heels Romeo bought me.
He still isn’t here. Even as Valentina shifts her gaze to Zio Mario, I search for my mystery mafia man. He’s neither at the front with the bridal party nor sitting among the small number of guests.
Valentina doesn’t spare me another glance. She meets her groom at the altar with the most radiant smile.
Feeling more lost and alone than ever before despite the physical nearness of my two most treasured loved ones, my wayward heart lumps Romeo’s absence in with their ambiguous reception of me.
My despondency grows as they live out one of the most beautiful moments of their lives as I stand by like an afterthought. I don’t belong here. It was wrong of me to come.
As soon as the officiant announces you may kiss the bride, Valentina tosses her bouquet over her shoulder and reaches for Zio Mario.
As the only person nearby, I catch the bouquet, but no one notices.
The moment the bride and groom disappear into their car, I run to the bathroom and throw up, but some small part of me refuses to believe the last half hour happened and thinks if I don’t let go of the bouquets, everything will be okay.
So I cling to the bundles of flowers even though I know it makes no sense.
My throat burns. Tears stream down my face. My entire abdomen cramps as I dry heave into the toilet.
When my stomach finally relents, I flush and lean back against the wall. My head spins. Hollowness infects my bones. I close my eyes and breathe.
After a while, my heart becomes as numb as my ass from sitting on the hard, cold floor.
I rise, using the wall for balance, and stumble to the sinks. With only one hand since my fingers clench around the bouquets, I turn on the faucet, wash my hand, splash my face, and rinse out my mouth before looking in the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me with forlorn eyes. It’s too much, so I turn and head for the exit.
“Did you see the bride and groom happily wed?”
Alarm spears through me at the familiar voice. I scowl even as my heart leaps with joy as I turn and meet Romeo’s eyes. He leans against the wall in the side hall leading to a supply closet.
“Yes, I did, but you need to leave,” I demand.
“Aw, don’t be like that, bambolina. We’re just getting to the good part.”
Every nerve in my body lights up as my senses sharpen.
“What do you mean?”
He grabs my wrist. I gasp and jerk backward, but he tugs me so hard I stumble forward against his chest. With unrelenting strength, he peels my fingers off the bouquets and rotates my palm upward.
After a mocking tsk and head shake, he flexes his fingers around my wrist, encouraging a fresh trickle of blood from my cut.
“You made this too easy for me, Sienna,” he murmurs.
He grabs my throat and digs his fingertips into my jugular without restricting my airway. I scratch at his arms and chest, but he subdues me with ease.
As blackness sucks me away from the world, my soul cries out in denial.
I was wrong to come to Valentina and my uncle’s wedding. I foolishly hoped for forgiveness. I stupidly let my guard down and trusted a man.
Romeo was never my savior or my rescuer. My uncle never sent him. He’s a fake and an enemy.
He wants to hurt me.
I’m doomed.