19. Forgive Me, Father
Forgive Me, Father
Outside the wedding car window, Rome blurred past in sun-soaked stone, familiar streets, and busy people.
But that’s not what I was staring at. It was my reflection in the glass, one of a flawless bride.
Her cheeks tinted, eyelashes longer than life, and lips painted a deep rose.
An elegant updo of golden curls, with a few escaping tendrils framing her face.
Detached.
That’s the only way to explain how I woke up feeling today.
On the outside, I was calm, composed, and almost convincing, I think.
Well, my papi was convinced, at least. He kept offering me those wide smiles that said all his problems were about to end.
But it didn’t feel that way to me. Nothing about this day felt like an end to my problems. It didn’t even feel real.
I exhaled a slow breath, causing the sheer, dramatic veil to tickle my face.
The only thing anchoring me to reality was the feel of lace between my fingers, the quiet, small victory that I had at least found my dream dress in the space of four days.
This dress was made for me… even if the wedding itself was a farce.
“You honestly look so beautiful, Ari,” Allegra gushed from the seat beside me, pulling my attention from the window to her face. She sat with one leg over the other in her black satin bridesmaid’s dress, looking like a film star.
She’d been sworn to secrecy and promised she’d stay off her socials for the day, as we wanted to keep this wedding as low-key as possible.
It was a tiny, intimate wedding with just us, my papi, and Allegra, because Callum and Papi didn’t want to risk the press leaking news of our engagement and alerting Santino before we were married.
By then, it would be too late for Santino to react. If he’d even care at all.
There I was again. Thinking of a man I shouldn’t be.
I hadn’t heard from or seen him, which had me doubting whether this was all still necessary.
No more texts or pillow-humping pornos to my new phone, no more motorcycles revving past my flat, and no hospital visits.
Not that I’d been going into work, anyway.
For safety reasons, I’d taken a two-week holiday, which I thought would be a good idea to spend time with my new husband and maybe go on a short honeymoon to get to know him better.
But that didn’t stop me from feeling a certain type of way about the fact that Santino Buccini had disappeared.
I knew I should have felt relieved. That was the whole point, right?
Maybe he’d heard about the wedding and backed off.
Or maybe I wasn’t worth the effort anymore.
“You are very quiet, luce mia.”
“Just… nervous.”
“Nerves are completely normal on your wedding day. I wish your mamma could see you like this,” he said softly at the memory, shaking his head. “You look perfect.”
I smiled and peered down at my hands resting on the layers of tulle.
My chest tightened as I thought of my mum and what she’d say about all of this.
She was always so strong and had taught me I’d never need a man for anything.
She was free-spirited but pretty scorned after her and Papi’s divorce.
She wasn’t a man-hater as such, but she definitely didn’t trust them.
She’d probably tell me to run for my life if she were here.
I twisted the solitaire engagement ring on my finger, nearly snagging it on my skirt.
I think I could run pretty fast in this dress.
The invasive thought startled me, but not as much as the mean growl of a motorcycle somewhere behind us. My whole body twisted to look out of the back window, my heart thudding in my chest. For the first time today, I suddenly felt very, very alive.
Everyone in the car tensed as the atmosphere shifted when a bike swerved through the traffic towards us. It reared up, driving alongside my window, and my body deflated.
It wasn’t him.
An older man with a long beard, wearing a leather waistcoat over a black T-shirt that showed off his colourful tattooed arms, stared back at me through the window.
His green eyes were bright as they clashed with mine through his open visor.
Then, with a twist of the throttle, he was gone, speeding ahead of us.
No one said anything, but my father exhaled.
Allegra squeezed my knee through my tulle skirt.
I couldn’t look at her. I was too busy trying to compose myself.
What was wrong with me? Why was I disappointed that it wasn’t my unhinged, bodyguard-murdering stalker?
Ridiculous. It was decided. I would find myself a therapist once I was married.
But right now, I needed to find that serene bride, the one under the veil of illusion who knows this is for the best.
Marry Callum. Forget Santino.
I caught my reflection in the window once more and forced a smile. Yet, beneath the lace and silk, my heart was racing as if it were about to do something terribly, irrevocably wrong.
The small chapel away from the city fit the purpose.
It was discreet and pretty, nothing too grand.
I’d never wanted a big, flashy wedding anyway.
As soon as we stepped inside, the old, musty smell of wood and books, beneath a subtle floral scent, hit my nose, and nerves rushed through me. Shit. I was getting married.
I turned to look at Allegra, my eyes wide and my lips parted.
She pressed her lips together in a thin line, as if the realisation had only just dawned on me, and it must have seemed rather comical to her.
I’d kept myself so busy planning everything that I didn’t have time to think about what would happen after we said our vows.
Marriage. Lifelong commitment. My name would change. I’d be Arianna D'Ardenzi.
Holy fucking shit.
“The Uber is out the back,” Allegra joked. At least, I thought she was joking. I could never be too sure with her.
“Here’s the bouquet,” my papi said, interrupting us as he strolled over with beautifully arranged lilies, roses, and baby’s breath. I took it with trembling hands and closed my eyes, inhaling the musky air to get my shit together.
“I’ll let the priest know we’ve arrived,” Papi said, stepping away again. I opened my eyes and glanced down at the flowers in my hand. A card was nestled among the petals, and I frowned, plucking it out with two fingers, expecting only the florist’s logo, not the handwriting I recognised instantly.
My knees buckled, but I managed to stay upright as I read the words.
Marry him, Bella Ribelle, and you’ll be a widow before midnight.
Take a moment. Think. Breathe. Then do the right thing.
Come and find me.
For half a second, my brain refused to acknowledge the words. Then they slammed into me so hard I couldn’t draw a breath.
“What is it?” Allegra asked, but I was already stumbling backwards and away from the doors that opened onto an aisle. “Aria?” Allegra grabbed my shoulders as I pressed the card against my thigh, hiding it in the tulle. “Are you okay? You really do look like you’re about to faint.”
“I—” Why couldn’t I swallow? My throat was closing up. He was threatening Callum’s life. “I–I need a minute.”
“Okay,” she said just as my papi came back into view, his face creasing with concern when he saw me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—” What the fuck did I say? I couldn’t think straight. I needed space to breathe. To think. “I need to take confession.”
My papi blinked at me. I was baptised Catholic like him, but I had never been a devout churchgoer. But the sudden urge to confess my sins was strong. To talk to someone who wouldn’t judge. Perhaps if I confessed, I’d know what the hell to do next.
“Okay,” he nodded, pointing to the door on our left by the exit. “The confessional is through there. We’ll wait here for you.”
I pushed my way into the private room, where the free-standing dark-stained chestnut booth stood in the middle.
I chose the left compartment and dropped to my knees, my skirt spreading around me and barely fitting in the cubicle.
The smell of dust and incense was even stronger here, a reminder that so many before me had spilled their secrets in the hope of absolution.
The click of the lock outside, followed by the heavy footsteps of the priest, told me he’d entered his chamber. The door closed with a solid bang, signalling he was ready to listen.
Placing my hands over my corseted stomach, I stared down at the bouquet.
“Forgive me, Father,” I exhaled, then continued. “For I have sinned.”
When there was no response, only the subtle sound of someone breathing on the other side of the closed lattice screen, I pressed on while I still had the courage.
“I don’t know how long it’s been since my last confession. A while.” My fingers twisted together. “I’m about to get married. And…” I drew a sharp breath. “I feel sick.”
More silence. But I’d started, and there was suddenly no stopping me.
“I don’t love him. The man I’m about to marry.
But I chose to do this because it was the safest option for everyone.
For me. For my papi. And because… it was meant to end things…
with another man.” The words scraped out of my throat.
“Someone I shouldn’t want. Someone I should be afraid of.
He’s a bad man, Father, and I think about him when I shouldn’t.
All the time, even knowing what I know about him.
He’s done awful things, and yet I still have… unholy thoughts about him.”
The priest cleared his throat, and I closed my eyes, my cheeks flaming.
“I don’t know what to do. I think there is something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” a calm Italian voice said from the other side. “You’re just mine.”
The breath rushed out of me as my knees shifted, the creak of wood echoing through the sudden silence.
“No,” I breathed in denial. I’d know that voice anywhere. A pleasurable shiver slid down my spine at the sound of it.