Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
VALENTINA
1 month later
“V alentina, mia cara. Are you okay? Are you feeling okay? You’ve been zoning out a lot since…” Mom doesn’t finish what she wants to say; she doesn’t have to. I understand what she means. We’re headed to the wedding dress stores in the city.
“Yes, Mom, I’m fine. I just don’t…I don’t really have anything to say.” I shrug my shoulders, hoping she’ll buy it. Her eyes briefly close as she sighs before she opens them again and nods.
“You’ll tell me if something’s bothering you, right?” she asks. I would never do that to my Mom. She already has enough on her plate.
“Yes, Mom, of course.” The car comes to a halt, and the doors fling open, our bodyguards scouring the surrounding area. Perrin’s bridal shop has a cute look to it, and I’m sure that Gloria doesn’t like it by her sour expression when she steps out of the car behind ours. The glass doors have an arch of different flowers, mostly orange and yellow, but some reds peek through. The guards push the gold hardware on the glass doors and hold them open for us.
Stepping inside, the vibrant orange carpet muffles the sound of our heels. The walls are a mix of orange, yellow, and pink, like a water marble with gold accents, making it look vibrant and inviting. Gloria looks around with disdain before stepping forward. Two attendants stand to the side with bright smiles on their faces.
One of them has a beautiful Afro and the other has a pretty scarf on her head.
“Hi, I’m Valentina, and we’re here for our first wedding dress shopping appointment,” I say. Recognition crosses the face of the girl with the scarf.
“Yes, we have you booked in for the day. I’m Inara, and I’ll be your assistant, and this is Dorothy, my trainee. She’ll be assisting you as well.” She gestures to the woman next to her, and I give them both a smile, trying to be as friendly as possible. “Would you like to follow Dorothy to your waiting area.” She waves to my mom and Gloria, who both follow Dorothy to an open space with a gray carpet and gray chairs. Inara looks back for me to follow her.
“Is there a style you have in mind?” she asks as we stop, and I look around.
“I like simple dresses, but I really like glitter and sparkles as well.”
She taps a finger on her chin, her eyes narrowing on the row of dresses.
“How about you have a look around here, and I’ll grab some of our one-of-a-kind dress designs from the back.” I nod at her, and she gives me a smile before heading down the row of dresses. Flipping through them, I sigh heavily when I can’t concentrate because of the pulsing migraine. I press my eyes closed and count. One, breathe, two, breathe, three. Releasing a another breath, I open my eyes and flip through the princess silhouettes. I pause on a pure white sweetheart neckline with sheer off-the-shoulder sleeves. I try to get it out but fail, and one of the attendants comes rushing to pull it out for me.
“Thank you,” I say. He nods, holding the dress over his arm.
“I’ll place it in the dressing room for you, Miss Moretti.”
Inara comes toward us, pulling a rack with a couple of different dresses in garment bags.
“Did you find any that caught your eye?”
“Yes. This one seems to be my style.” I gesture to the dress in the male attendant's hand. She smiles at him and thanks him for helping me before grabbing the dress and hanging it on the rack handle. We make it to the waiting area, and both Mom and Gloria are sitting, talking to each other in hushed voices.
“Oh, have you found any that you think are suitable for the wedding?” Gloria asks me when I walk by them to follow Inara.
“Yes, I did. I’m just going to try one on, and we’ll go from there,” I tell them both. She nods and turns back to my mom, who gives me a smile before going back to their conversation. I step into the changing room, which has a floor-to-ceiling wall mirror, the lighting bright enough to blind anyone.
A round table and a small stool are in the corner of the changing room. Some white clips are placed on the round table, and Inara pauses next to it with the rack, unzipping the garment bags before looking back at me.
“I’ve unzipped all the dresses. Try on whichever one you’d like. If you need any help, I’ll just be outside. Tap on the door, and I’ll come in.”
I thank her as moves past me and out the door, shutting it gently behind her.
My head drops between my shoulders, and I look at my reflection. The thick concealer is still intact, none of the exhaustion showing, and the blush adds some color back into my pale face. Looking back at the dresses, I sigh once more and begin to strip. I pinch my arms, and the weight gain is noticeable. I really need to get my anxiety under control, or I’ll have an unhealthy obsession with food again.
The dress I picked is really pretty and has a very elegant look to it, but I can tell that it isn’t the dress for this kind of wedding. I knock on the door twice and step back. Inara opens the door, poking her head in.
“What can I help with?”
“Could you please put the clips in the back of the dress?” I ask. She nods with a kind smile, and I turn around. She steps closer with two clips in her hand after grabbing them from the round table. Once she’s done, she looks at me through the mirror, and I run my palms down the front of the dress.
“I like it, but I love the silhouette more than anything else.”
“Yes. A-line silhouettes are very popular with our young brides. If you’d like I could pull out some more dresses,” she suggests, but I shake my head.
“No. The ones we have out are fine for now. Thank you.”
She smiles and moves to the side so I’m able to leave the dressing room. Gloria and Mom are both still talking, but they pause and look at me as I step toward the podium positioned in front of a long mirror.
I face them, unsure how they feel. Mom’s eyes are glazed over, her fingertips pressing to her quivering lips. On the other hand, Gloria assesses the dress with narrowed eyes before shaking her head.
“It’s too simple. Valentina, I’m sure you’d find a more suitable dress from Vera Wang or Schiaparelli,” Gloria says. Mom looks apologetic, as she probably thinks that this is the dress I want.
“I think we’ll find something we can both agree on in this boutique. But I agree this dress isn’t exactly suitable for a wedding between our families.” I step off the podium and head back to the dressing room, but Gloria’s voice stops me.
“You could try to lose some weight before the wedding. You look quite pudgy.”
My eyes sting and my fists clench around the dress as I try to calm my breathing. The room falls into a tense silence, and I look back at her.
“You might want to keep that kind of ‘advice’ to yourself, because I’m a healthy weight for my height.”
I don’t wait to see her reaction and trudge toward the dressing room, Inara following behind me. The rest of the fitting goes by in a quiet blur, nobody agreeing on any of the dresses. That is, until we get to the second-to-last dress. It’s sparkly with a V-neckline and beautiful, sheer, off-the-shoulder puff sleeves.
When Inara comes into the changing room, she pauses for a second before asking me, “Would you like me to get the matching veil for the dress?”
She hurries off after I nod, only to come rushing back in a bit out of breath. She comes up behind me and places the sheer sparkly veil in my bun, adjusting it until she deems it perfect. The veil is long and drags behind me as I make my way to the waiting room and stand in front of my mom and Gloria, who are both silent.
“It’s perfect,” Mom and Gloria both say at the same time. They sound almost breathless, and it honestly makes me glad that they love the dress.
“Yes, it is. I think this is the one,”
My wedding dress is picked. Soon, I’ll be marrying the future drug lord of one of the most notorious Colombian drug Cartels in the country. ??
* * *
Six months later
Today is my wedding day.
The whole house is in wedding mode, and everyone is freaking out. I can hear my wedding planner screaming down the hall from my room. My hairstylist, Melissa, is working on getting my up-do perfect and making sure that it’ll last through the fourteen-hour wedding day. It’s only 7:30 and we have around two hours before the wedding ceremony.
Mom’s running around like a headless chicken, trying to make sure that Violette and Monica are ready. She’s also chasing Marcello to get him to put on a tie, but he keeps dodging her; that is, until Dad gives him a look that could make a grown man shit himself.
The last couple of steps for my look are lipstick, dusting off the setting powder, and setting spray. With Melissa nearly done, she rushes over to the other girls to get them ready before they leave to go to the church.
“Come on, Monica. You don’t need that much makeup, sweetie, you’re fourteen.” Mom urges Mon to stop trying to add more makeup, but she doesn’t listen.
“I’ll see you at church, Mom. I'm going to go change in the other room.” I kiss Mom’s cheeks, and she pulls me into a hug, sniffling.
“When did my little girl grow up? I remember when you were a little girl running around, asking everyone to play with you.” She pulls back, dabbing the corners of her eyes with the edge of her fingers.
I give her a small smile, wishing I can be that young again and not feel like the weight of a mountain rests on my shoulders.
“Don’t cry, Mom. I’m getting married, not dying,” I say. Although I’d much rather the latter of the two.
“Yes, I know. I just want you to be happy. Are you happy, sweetie?”
The knot in my throat intensifies, and I really don’t want to lie to my mom, but I just nod my head and kiss her cheek. Her palm cradles my cheek for a second before she turns to my sisters.
“Come on, girls, we need to go, and Marcello, come on, caro amico, we have to go to the church.”
They all rush out the door, the makeup artist and hairdresser behind them. I stare at the closed mahogany door for a beat before going into the second room to get dressed. The only people in the house now are Dad, me, and four bodyguards. Everyone else is at the church and most of the guards are guarding the church with Guerrero’s guards.
It’s quiet. It's almost eerie how quiet it is, but I shake it off and try to ignore the small lead ball in the bottom of my stomach, telling me something is off. I open the closet door that holds my wedding dress, heels, Nicholas’ family heirloom necklace, and the long veil. I had the dress designed to have a zipper on the side instead of the back since I wanted to get dressed by myself, refusing to have anyone in here with me.
The dress slips on easily and the zipper glides up smoothly. I take the white kitten heels out of their box and place them on the ground, lifting the dress. Putting on the shoes, I move to the necklace and then the veil. The sound of my heels against the marble floors echoes around in the room as I go to stand in front of the long mirror. In the reflection, I find something that resembles me, but it isn’t really me. It doesn’t feel like me.
The girl in the mirror is groomed to perfection, as an instrument for her family's plans, but that’s not who I want to be. What scares me the most is the fact that I look so…empty. My eyes bleak, as if life had been drained out of them, and that’s how I’d been feeling the last few months, like I’ve been floating through life, not really living.
My heart aches, entire body aches, and existing alone hurts like a thousand knives. I fight the urge to cry as my eyes glaze and the familiar sting takes over. My throat tightens, and the noose that has been around it since I’d left…New Hampshire has finally become too tight to breathe, and my limbs feel too weak to stand. I don’t fall, I won’t fall. I’ll stand straight and tall, and whatever this fucking life throws at me I will take.
I don’t need anyone.
But I’m jolted within the next second, my emotion switching to shock.
My eyes widen as I look in the mirror again and see the only person I have wanted to see. He stands behind me in a black suit, his hands in his pockets like he has all the time in the world. His face softens at the look in my eyes. I don’t turn around.
“You look breathtaking, ragazza mocciosa,” he whispers. My teeth grind together at the softness of his voice, at the adoring look in his eyes.
“What are you doing here? Today, of all days?” I ask, heart racing, and his eyes harden at the roughness of my tone, his tattooed hands sliding out from his pockets.
“I’ve come to take back what’s mine.”
I scoff at that, even as my stomach swoops like it’s fighting against me. His eyes narrow as he steps closer.
“And what would that be?”
I stiffen when he leans forward, his eyes still on mine, but his lips near my studded ears.
“You,” he whispers as I look up at him. I fist the skirt of my dress, vibrating with immeasurable amounts of rage.
“I’m nobody’s property, least of all yours. What are you doing here, Emiliano, on my fucking wedding day?” I demand, and he grips my chin, forcing me to turn around to face him. His eyes search my face, looking increasingly displeased with what he sees before his eyes soften again, just a fraction.
“I…I don’t know how I was able to leave you for so many months. I don’t know how I was able to stay away from you. I’d dream of you every night and nothing else. You haunted my every thought. Every fucking thought. Awake or asleep, I couldn’t escape you. I didn’t want to escape you. I don’t know how I was able to breathe without you. You are the air I need. A life without you is not a life. Not one worth living,” he says. I search his face, trying to find any hint of deception, panicking when I find none.
“What are you thinking? Do you know what will happen to you if they find you here? Do you know what my Dad will do to you if he finds you here?” I ask. His arms wrap around my waist, bringing us closer.
“I don’t care. I’d rather risk everything to even have a chance with you, and whether I die trying to, or survive to get us both out of here, then I’d take it.” He’s insane. Oh. My. God. This man is actually insane and he’s in my room only hours from my fucking wedding to another man. I swallow roughly as nerves ripple through my body.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask him. He rests his forehead on mine, his bright blue eyes locked in on my gaze.
“It means that I am irrevocably, painfully, and so delusionally in love with you, Valentina Moretti, and want you to come with me back to New York.”
My chest swells at his words and my body breaks out in soft sobs as I bury my head into his neck.
“Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I wanted to come earlier, but I needed to gather my thoughts. I was so confused. I thought what I wanted the most was revenge,” he explains. I half laugh, half cry.
“Thought?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Yes, I thought that I wanted revenge. But what I truly want is you.”
I quickly sober up, realizing that my Dad will be up here any minute now.
“You need to leave. Like, now.” Shakily, I push at his chest, but he doesn’t move.
“We. Valentina, we need to leave. I’m not leaving without you.” I press my lips together, and my brow furrows as I fist his suit jacket.
“You asshole. You can’t just come here and crash a wedding after giving me back and really expect me to want to go back to New York with you,” I argue, but Emiliano’s hold only tightens on my waist.
“I’m taking you with me, whether you like it or not, Valentina.”
My jaw ticks and my eyes narrow.
“No. You gave me up. You don’t get to decide when you want me. I’m not a fucking toy you can jerk around, Emiliano.”
He sighs, lips pursing before he continues. “Please, come home with me. I miss you, please. You are the best thing that has happened to me,” he pleads. Home? Is Camorra territory really home to me now?
“I am home, Emiliano,” I say, a bit hesitantly. He shakes his head, his jaw clenching.
“No, you’re not. Please, just come back with me and let’s talk.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the door to the room bursts open, and my Dad stands there with a gun raised and a snarl twisting his ugly face. Emiliano quickly draws his gun out from his waist holster.
“I see you, Camorra bastards, like to breach my fucking territory.” Dad throws the insult at Emiliano. He faces my Dad, pushing me behind him, aiming his gun. Fuck. I told him to get out of here. He slips me his phone, his messages with Romiro open. I quickly shoot a text to Romiro, telling him what’s happening.
“It’s not my fault your territory isn’t properly protected.” Emiliano shrugs nonchalantly. I pull at his suit jacket to tell him to stop provoking my Dad. He knows my dad has a short fuse.
“You fucking brat might have been able to get away with it last time, but this time, you won’t. I’ll dismember you to the point your own family won’t recognize you.”
My stomach churns at my dad’s threat, because I know he’ll make true on it. After all, he only got his cruel reputation after years of torture and death. The sheer white curtains that cover the open balcony door blow in as the soft breeze drifts into the tense room. Romiro sends a text, which tells us that they’re outside the balcony and will be up in two minutes. That could be two minutes too fucking late. My dad and Emiliano are in a standoff.
“Valentina, come here.” My dad’s voice booms, but Emiliano’s arm sticks out, trying to prevent me from moving. I push past it and stop between my dad and Emiliano, the silence thick enough to cut through with a butter knife.
“No, Dad. I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.”
His angry eyes focus on my face as he snarls, “You fucking whore. I didn’t raise you to betray me. You will not be leaving. You will stay. Do you hear me? You will stay here and marry Guerrero's son and do what I say.”
My hands tremble at my sides as I shake my head, fear gripping me, but I push through. “No. I will not.” He points the gun at me, and before I know what’s happening, Emiliano has pushed me out of the way of the gunfire and taken a bullet to his abdomen.
He falls to the ground with a thud, and I scream, my stomach dropping. No. No. This isn’t fair. Hot tears run down my face as I watch Emiliano wince as he tries to stand up. My dad advances on us, his hand grabbing my hair and he pulling me up. Romiro bursts through the open balcony door in that moment with Lucio behind him, both of them with their guns drawn.
“Put the girl down, Moretti, or I’ll fucking shoot a bullet right between your beady little eyes,” Romiro demands. Dad’s grip tightens, and he pulls me up in a headlock. The feel of the cool metal against my temple makes me pause.
“You fuckers need to get off my property and out of my territory before I blow her fucking brains.” Dad pushes the gun's mouth farther into my skull, emphasizing his threat. I claw at his thick fat arm, but he just pushes his arm into my throat. When I look down to see if Emiliano is fine, I only see a patch of blood. Romiro’s face is twisted in a look that can only be described as a pure boiling rage. I only notice a fraction of a nod before I hear the sound of a gunshot that makes my eyes ring and the warm feeling of something splattering on the side of my face.
Emiliano has killed my Dad. On my wedding day.
Dad slugs off behind me and drags me down with him. He lands with a thud, and I manage to push his arm off me before I fall to the floor.
Morbid curiosity gets the best of me, and as I’m about to turn to look, Romiro warns, “Don’t look back or you won’t be able to sleep.” My head snaps to the front, and Romiro huffs out an amused laugh before he sobers up. “We need to get out of here. Lucio, help me get Emiliano. Val, go to the balcony. Matteo is waiting down there for you.”
I look back at Emiliano, who gives me a meek smile, his face ashen. I reach for him, but he shakes his head at me. My nerves are running rampant as I move to the balcony and look down to find Matteo down there. He gives me a wave before pointing at a rope that’s hooked to the balcony rod. I swallow as I feel my throat go dry before quickly taking off my heels, throwing them down and aiming far from where Matteo is standing. Next, I rip off the bottom half of my dress. A groan from behind me makes me rub my hands together and grab the first step on the ladder to climb down. I try not to think about what has just happened. Looking back up, I find Lucio beginning to climb down, and I almost slip. I don’t know how Emiliano is going to get out of there.
“Jump,” Matteo instructs me, and I find that I’m only a couple of inches up from the ground. I can tell I’m slowing them down, so I quickly close my eyes and jump. I land and manage to fall on my back, a couple of feet away from where Matteo is standing. I quickly get up, grab my heels, and put them on.
“Come with me,” Matteo instructs once I’m near him. He quickly walks ahead of me toward the fence that separates the garden and the forest.
“What about them?” I ask. He doesn’t look back as he grunts.
“They’ll be fine. We need to get you out of here first.” I quickly walk after him to catch up. He stops before the fence and turns to look at me. “I’m going to climb first and then pull you up.”
He doesn’t wait for me to agree, and he climbs until he stands on the stone part of the fence. Extending one arm, he grabs the fence with the other. Matteo manages to pull me up the second time after I’d slipped the first, and we drop over to the other side. Romiro, Lucio, and Emiliano make it to the fence by the time we’re on the other side. Matteo begins to walk, and I follow after him, looking back a couple of times to make sure that the other three are following us. We get to the road where a parked car is hidden from view.
Once we’ve all quickly piled into the car, the drive begins. It’s only a matter of time before everyone figures out what has happened. I hope my sisters, brother, and mom will be okay since Dad is now dead. I’m sitting next to Emiliano, who’s sweating like he’s run a marathon, his white shirt soaked in his blood. Romiro is sat next to him as Matteo drives the car as fast as he can.
“Matteo, drive till we reach Ohio. We need to get the bullet out.”
Matteo at Romiro’s instructions and turns back to the road. Romiro presses a piece of fabric to Emiliano’s wound, and Emiliano winces. I really hope we can make it out of Outfit territory before everyone figures out what has happened. The wedding should have started by now, which means everyone just thinks that Dad and I are a little late, unless the guards in the house have alerted everyone. ?
We make it to Ohio in under five hours and manage to get Emiliano to one of the Camorra’s hospitals in time.
“He needs a minor surgery. The bullet is still in there and we need to get it out.”
The doctor talks to Romiro and both of Emiliano’s brothers. Emiliano is asleep, hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor.
“Okay, do it as soon as possible,” Romiro tells the doctor, and so do Lucio and Matteo. The doctor drones on about something else before rushing out of the room. I’m clutching Emiliano’s hand as the hot wet tears roll down my cheeks.
“You fucking asshole, you better wake up soon so I can kick your dumb ass. Why the fuck would you do something as stupid as jump in front of a bullet?” I ask, and Romiro’s hand lands on my back as he tries to soothe me.
“You know why, Val, come on. It’s the same reason he breached Outfit territory for you.”
I sniff, trying to compose myself.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” I mutter.
He needs to wake up. He shouldn’t get to tell me he loves me and then fucking die.