Chapter 5 #2
That earned me a real look. His gray eyes studied my face, and something shifted in his expression. Amusement maybe. Or surprise.
"You're different than I expected."
"How so?"
"More..." He seemed to search for the word. "Direct."
"Would you prefer I simper and bat my eyelashes?"
"God no."
The song ended. He released me immediately and stepped back like I'd burned him. The brief moment of almost-connection evaporated.
"We should finish eating," he said.
We returned to the table, to our separate silences. To the weight of this alliance sitting between us like a physical thing.
I watched him from the corner of my eye.
The way he held himself. The way his jaw tightened when one of the Russian men said something.
The way his hand flexed and released like he was fighting the urge to reach for a weapon.
This was my husband. This tightly controlled violence wrapped in an expensive suit.
I'd just promised to love and honor him forever.
The thought made me want to laugh. Or cry. Possibly both.
Dessert appeared; wedding cake, six tiers of vanilla and buttercream. It looked perfect. Probably tasted like sawdust.
Dimitri and I stood together to cut the first slice. His hand covered mine on the knife. We pressed down together and the blade slid through easily.
A flash of cameras. Applause. More performing.
I lifted a piece toward his mouth. He took it. Chewed. Swallowed. His turn. He brought a piece to my lips and I bit down. The cake dissolved on my tongue. Sweet, rich, yet completely tasteless to me in that moment.
The crowd cheered. We'd completed another ritual successfully.
Then Geraldo stood up.
My stomach dropped.
He was drunk. I could tell from across the room. The way he swayed slightly. The way his voice was too loud when he called out.
"A toast!" He raised his glass. "To the happy couple!"
Papa stood immediately. "Geraldo, sit down."
"I'm toasting my cousin!" Geraldo stumbled forward. Guests moved out of his way like water around a rock. "My sweet, innocent cousin who's just married into a family of murderers!"
The ballroom went silent. Dimitri's entire body tensed beside me. I felt it like a bowstring being drawn.
"That's enough," Papa said. His voice had gone cold, dangerous.
But Geraldo wasn't stopping. He pointed at Dimitri with his champagne glass, liquid sloshing over the rim.
"How many men have you killed? How much blood is on your hands?
" He turned to the room. "And we're celebrating?
We're drinking champagne and eating cake while Marco Benedetti rots in the ground? "
"Thomoso!" Papa snapped.
Two men in suits immediately moved toward Geraldo but he shook them off.
"No! Everyone needs to hear this! This alliance is a joke! They'll betray us the first chance they get! And Giulia will be—"
"ENOUGH!" Papa's roar echoed off the walls. I'd never heard him sound like that. Not ever.
Geraldo finally stopped. He stared at Papa with wild eyes.
"Get out," Papa said quietly. More terrifying than shouting. "You are no longer welcome here."
"Zio—"
"You heard me. Leave. Now. Before I have your tongue cut out."
Uncle Marco stepped forward. "Giuseppe, please, he's drunk. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"He knows exactly what he's saying." Papa's face was stone.
"And he has brought shame on this family in front of our guests.
In front of my daughter on her wedding day.
" He turned to Geraldo. "You are going to pay for this.
You will report to me tomorrow morning. If I decide you deserve a second chance, you will apologize publicly to Giulia and to Dimitri. If not..." He let the sentence hang.
Geraldo's face had gone white. "You're choosing them over me? Over Marco's memory?"
"I'm choosing peace over pointless revenge. Something you're too young and stupid to understand." Papa gestured sharply. "Now get out of my sight."
The security guards took Geraldo's arms. He didn't fight this time, just let himself be led away. But as he passed our table he looked right at me. His eyes were full of so much pain and rage that I had to look away.
The doors closed behind him. Papa turned to the room. His expression smoothed into something pleasant. Controlled. The Don was back in charge.
"My apologies," he said lightly. "Family drama. I'm sure you all understand." He raised his glass. "To the happy couple! May their union bring prosperity to us all!"
Everyone drank, the band started playing again, and conversations resumed like nothing had happened. Like Geraldo hadn't just blown up my wedding reception and gotten himself exiled from the family.
I sat frozen in my chair.
Dimitri leaned closer. Close enough that only I could hear. "Your cousin is right about one thing," he said softly. "I have killed men. More than I can count. And I'll kill more before this is over." He pulled back and stood. "Excuse me. I need to speak with my men."
He walked away. Left me sitting alone at the head table in my forty-pound dress with three thousand crystals while the reception swirled around me. I picked up my champagne glass and drained it. Then I poured another and drained that too.
Somewhere in the city Geraldo was probably doing the same thing. Drinking and seething and hating me for choices neither of us had really made.
Welcome to the family, I thought bitterly.
Welcome to peace.