Chapter 12
CONSTANTINE
Dinner was painful.
Sitting so close to Cecelia after what she'd said in the library, after everything that had happened in that room and in the office before the ceremony and in the hallway outside with the buttons of my mother's dress under my fingers -- all of it was sitting in the room with us while I was supposed to be making conversation and eating food and behaving like a man with ordinary concerns.
She was across the table from me in the candlelight with her hair coming slightly loose and her eyes bright from the wine and she was laughing at something my father had said, a real laugh that changed her whole face, and I was watching her the way I'd been watching her for five days except that now she was my wife and the distance between here and the end of the evening was the only thing I was actually thinking about.
She caught me looking at one point and held my gaze for just a moment before looking back at my father, and the color that moved across her cheekbones told me the distance was not exclusively my problem.
My father was in remarkable form. Whatever combination of the occasion and Cecelia's company was responsible, he was sharp and present and funny in the dry specific way he was funny when he was feeling well, and he held the table with the easy authority of a man who had been doing it for forty years.
My mother watched him with the expression she wore when she was storing something up, committing it to memory, which she had been doing more often in recent months.
I looked at them and thought about forty-one years and felt the particular weight of it tonight more than usual.
"Constantine, would you help your father to bed?" My mother appeared at my elbow, her voice quiet, her eyes on my father who had begun to show the particular translucence that came when he had pushed past his endurance. "He's pushed himself today and he won't say so himself."
"Of course." I stood, and Cecelia stood with me before I'd said anything, which was exactly the kind of thing she did.
"I'll say my goodnights to him while he's still down here." Her sweet smile lifted my spirits and my heart soared when she slipped her hand in mine. We moved quickly across the room to where my father was sitting.
Cecelia kneeled down next to him and gently placed her hand on his. "There will never be enough thank yous to express to you how much I appreciated today."
"Oh, my girl." He looked at her with the expression he reserved for things that genuinely moved him.
"This might have been a little out of the ordinary, but I'm very glad I was here to see it.
I will see you tomorrow." He smiled and Cecelia hugged him gently, careful of him, and he put his arms around her and said quietly against her hair, "Good night, daughter. "
Cecelia pulled back and blinked hard, smiling at the same time, and stood. I kissed the side of her head before stepping forward to help my father.
"Wait here for me," I said. "I won't be long."
Getting my father to his room took longer than it had a month ago, which was its own quiet information.
He was slower on the stairs, and I matched his pace without commenting on it, and when we got to his room he sat on the bed and exhaled with the relief of a man who had been holding himself upright on willpower for the last two hours.
"I don't know if you could have found a better match, son.
" He let me help him with his jacket, something he wouldn't have allowed six months ago.
"It's obviously not exactly the way you thought it would happen, but she is a special woman.
" He sat on the bed and sighed. "Not to mention, I'm happy to have been able to see it.
" He looked toward the dresser. "Open the top drawer. Take out the red velvet box."
I did as he asked and brought it to him. He opened it and turned it so I could see, and inside on dark velvet was a necklace, a rose worked in gold with a small diamond at its center, matching the one my mother had worn for as long as I could remember.
"When I made your mother's necklace I had a second one made for your future bride.
" He looked at it for a moment. "Your wife will be the helpmate you need to run this family.
Everyone will know she's welcome, and that she is a Venosa, when they see her wearing the rose.
" He took a shaky breath and looked beyond me, and I didn't need to turn to know my mother had come in.
He always had the same look when she entered a room, even now, even after forty-one years.
"Go to your bride, son." My mother's quiet voice came from behind me. "I will help your father get ready for bed."
I hugged my father, lingering a moment longer than usual and holding him a little tighter than I needed to, and felt him hold on in return.
It wasn't fair he wouldn't see his grandchildren.
But I was glad he had been able to know my wife, and I was glad I had been in that room to hear him call her daughter.
I kissed my mother's cheek and said my goodnights and walked back down the stairs with the velvet box in my hand.
She was in the dining room when I came back, helping the staff clear the plates with the naturalness of someone who had been doing it her whole life, talking easily with Maria, who was looking at her with the expression the entire household had been wearing since she arrived.
I stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment and thought about what my father had said, that I was only beginning to understand what I had, and I thought he was right.
"May I show you where we will live?" I asked as I walked up behind her.
She jumped slightly as she felt me come up behind her. "Of course," she agreed, setting the plate back on the table.
Guiding her out of the room, we turned right instead of left toward the stairs.
The only sound was our footsteps and the swoosh of the dress's train.
I wanted to hold her hand but Cecelia kept her hands clasped in front of her, which told me she was thinking about the same things I was thinking about and managing them with more composure than I currently had.
"I guess I should call Jacob and tell him I'm not coming back." She didn't turn to look at me, focused straight ahead.
"I think he already figures you won't be back. People rarely are when I'm involved." I stopped at the door to my room, which was now our room. "Besides, if they track you to a job he becomes another breach. Another Jacob."
"Oh, well, I should let him know I'm alive."
"I'd rather you didn't." I motioned her into the room. She nodded as she went in.
"That's probably for the best," she agreed, and then stopped and looked around. "Wow. It's like it's our own little apartment."
The rooms were large, and I could see why she thought it. In fact it was bigger than most places in the city. "This entire wing is ours. Three other bedrooms, and if you'd like we can hire our own staff."
"I don't think that's necessary. I have no desire to make sweeping changes, and this way you can see your parents just as much."
I was about to say something when there was a soft knock on the door. My soul told me to ignore it. Duty told me I couldn't. Holding up a finger, I walked to the door.
Lorenzo was in the hallway, his eyes full of apology. "The four want to meet with you before they leave. I tried to get them to wait until tomorrow, but things are uncertain in their own areas."
With a quick glance over my shoulder, Cecelia gave me a reassuring smile. "Go. It's fine."
It was not fine. This was my wedding night and there were things that needed to happen, things I had been thinking about since the hallway outside the ceremony when I'd had my hands on her back and her skin was warm under my fingers. I turned and took the few steps back to her.
"I won't be long." Leaning down, I pressed my lips to hers, brief and full of intention, a promise rather than a greeting. Then I left my room and left the woman I'd married only hours ago and walked down the hallway feeling like a man being pulled in two directions by equally strong forces.
"This better be important," I said as I walked into my office and looked at the faces of the men who had agreed to recognize me as head of the Venosa family before my father's death.
"Just us. The last thing we wanted to do was pull you from your wedding night.
" Romolo Barbieri's smirk was going to get him hurt one of these days.
He wasn't much older than me, his father having been murdered the year before, and he was still getting used to the particular discipline that came with running a family rather than just being part of one.
Apparently the Avola family was making calls and causing trouble in all their cities, looking for Cecelia.
"It's only a matter of time until they figure out Chicago," Gabriele Amato Sr. said.
He was older than the rest of us and carried the particular weight of a man who had been right about enough things over a long career to be listened to carefully.
"I think the only thing preventing them from coming here directly is the history between your families.
Avola is thinking she'd never set foot here because of it. "
"That makes sense." I leaned back in my chair. "From what Cecelia has told me, it was beaten into her from birth that we were the aggressors and responsible for every problem their family had."
"You need to make it known she's here," Romolo said, cautious but forceful. "Once it's public that she's your wife the calculus changes entirely. He can be angry but he can't make a legitimate claim."