34. Nyah
NYAH
Dear Diary,
There was no one coming, and I knew what I needed to do.
The lace itched.
It scratched at my skin, and despite the rushed alterations my mother’s tailor had made to the dress, it still clung too tightly across my belly. Proof the baby inside me got bigger by the day.
I shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of my father’s limo, and my mother slapped my arm.
“Stop fidgeting! You’re getting creases everywhere!”
I didn’t bother arguing or telling her I didn’t care.
It had been her who shoved me into a shower this morning, so I was ready for the army of hairdressers and makeup artists who had descended on her house before the sun had properly risen.
I’d just been shuttled along from station to station, letting my mother respond when I’d been asked if I wanted my hair up or down, my makeup dramatic or natural.
I was completely numb to it all and that was how I wanted to stay until it was over.
The limousine stopped in front of the church, the grand staircase leading up to the doors looking more like the steps to Hell. But I’d made my decision. And there was no backing out now.
My father’s driver got out and opened the door for us. My father got out next, offering his hand to help me out.
Excitement radiated from my mother. She tucked her hand into my arm and squeezed it. “This is what I always dreamed for you, Nyah. A big, grand wedding to a rich man.”
I stared at her. “That was your dream for me? Not that I get to study? Or have a career I was passionate about? Or that I marry for love?”
Her sharp fingernails pinched my arm. “Don’t be such a fool. Marrying for love is for idiots. Fictional fairy tales they tell little girls. There’s a reason I never read those to you when you were a child.”
The thought of Constance Matish curling up on a bed and reading any type of story was laughable. It would be like hoping for affection but then snuggling up against a cactus.
“Let’s just get on with it,” my father interrupted. “There’s a church full of people up there, waiting to see Carlos Guerra take a bride, and the sooner that happens, the sooner we can all breathe easily.”
I stared at him. The father who was supposed to love me. But all I saw was the businessman who had deals to make and places to be.
I wouldn’t breathe easily once I was married. But I doubted my body knew what breathing easily was anymore. It hadn’t taken an easy breath since Dax had left, and it had only gotten harder with the loss of Luca and then Lynx.
I glanced around me, still hoping one of them would pop out of thin air and rescue me.
But there was no one coming, and I knew what I needed to do.
I put my heeled foot on the bottom step and then the next and the next, until I was at the church doors.
My mother hurried ahead and pulled open the door a few inches. She spoke with someone inside then waved my father and me over.
Her eyes gleamed. “The wedding planner says the church is full. Every seat! This is going to be the event of the decade, Nyah. Every woman in there is going to be staring at you with envy.”
I doubted that. They were all in there, summoned at the last minute by a Mafia don they were scared of. But there was no point arguing with her. She lived in her own dream world.
I lived in mine. I hadn’t invited Violet or anyone from the clubhouse. I hadn’t even told Violet I was going through with marrying Carlos. She would have tried to talk me out of it. Would have promised she and her family would be there for me and the baby.
But a supportive friend didn’t make up for not having a family of my own. So I’d made my peace with knowing there would be no friendly faces inside, smiling at me proudly as I walked down the aisle.
I hoped Violet would forgive me when she found out. I hoped she would know, if I had been marrying for love, I would have had her standing right next to me in a pretty dress and clutching a bouquet of flowers. I hoped she knew how much her friendship had meant to me.
We entered the church, into a little foyer. The roof was high above my head, stained-glass windows casting rainbows on the walls that were entirely too cheerful for the mood I was in.
The wedding planner rushed up to me and fussed around, talking a million miles a minute, my mother questioning everything she said, the two of them debating over how fast we should walk down the aisle.
As if it mattered.
I strode toward the door that led into the main body of the church. The chatter of the hundreds of people inside echoed back, and my stomach flipped in anticipation of going out there and having all of them stare at me.
I blew out a long breath. “Let’s just get on with it. Someone play the music.”
The planner nodded, and the traditional wedding march filled the air.
The doors opened, and then I was moving down the aisle, flanked either side by my proud parents.
My mother hissed at me through her fake smile. “Why do you look like you’re being led to your execution? Smile, girl!”
I did as I was told because it was easier than arguing. I forced my mouth into something that might have resembled happiness, but it apparently wasn’t good enough for my father. He peeked at me as we slow marched down the aisle.
“Don’t ruin this for me, Nyah. This is a good match for you.”
I realized in that moment I hated him, and I couldn’t keep it inside a second longer.
And that in marrying Carlos Guerra, maybe I didn’t have to.
I paused and twisted to face my father, keeping my expression schooled into something the crowd of people staring at me might mistake for father-daughter affection.
“I’m doing what you want, aren’t I? Be grateful.
And remember who you’re speaking to. I’m about to become Mrs. Guerra. ”
He stared at me in shock.
My mother clearly overheard and stifled a gasp at the same time.
I couldn’t walk another inch with the two of them, when they were nothing but my enemies.
For show only, I leaned in and kissed my mother’s cheek, and then my father’s. I pulled my hands free from both of them and walked the rest of the way up to the altar alone, joining Carlos standing at the top, his brother, Enzo, beside him as his best man.
Carlos smiled at me, and for the first time, I honestly felt the warmth in it. He took my hand and helped me up the last stair. His gaze swept over me, but it wasn’t in the harsh, leering way he had when I’d lived in his home.
This time, it was with the affection of a man who might have actually cared.
It shocked me to my core to see real emotion in his normally cold eyes.
He cleared his throat. “My son would have thought you beautiful in that dress, Nyah.”
My heart clenched at the mention of Luca.
The priest opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Carlos ignored him and stepped closer to me, guiding me gently into his arms. He held me for a long moment, hugging me, breathing slowly, like he was trying to get himself together and covering it so all the vultures watching us didn’t notice.
He stepped back just enough for me to see the emotion in his eyes and hear the sincerity when he said, “It’s proper to say the traditional vows.
But I wanted to make you a promise before we do.
” He clutched my arms, his voice only loud enough for the two of us, and probably the priest and Enzo to hear.
“I want this second chance, Nyah. Losing Luca…” He pressed his lips together and breathed through his nose for a second, trying to get himself under control before he continued.
He pressed a hand against my belly. “I won’t lose another heir.
I’ll be good to you, and to him.” He smiled down at his hand on my belly. “My grandson, soon to be my son.”
I stared at Carlos’s face, and for the first time since I’d agreed to stand here and marry him, I felt hope.
There was something different about him.
Something gentler. Kinder. Something that made me believe losing Luca had completely gutted him in the same way it had me.
That maybe we shared the same grief over that.
I suddenly had hope this man I was about to marry could be more like his son. Hard and cold to some, but gentler and kinder with those he loved.
Maybe that love could extend to me. He would never have my heart, that would always be owned by Dax and Lynx and Luca.
But maybe we could be friends. Maybe I could live a happy life beneath his roof, never having a man to touch and hold me in the way his son and Dax and Lynx had, but a good life, where my baby never felt the way Luca had.
“What do you say, Nyah?” Carlos said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Will you marry me?”
When I nodded and let Carlos have both my hands so the ceremony could begin, my brain whispered I was making the right decision, even if my heart screamed no.
My heart didn’t get a say in my life anymore. I’d tried that, and it had failed miserably. All I had left now was to be smart.
I looked over at the priest. “Please begin.”
Carlos beamed at me, a genuine smile that was so much like Luca’s I wished he’d stop. I stared down at our joined hands instead and let the priest’s words wash over me.
“Do you consent to being married beneath the eyes of God and in accordance with the law on this day?”
“I do,” I forced out.
“Do you, Nyah Matish, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?”
“I do.”
“Do you agree to love an honor him above all others?”
“I do.”
Every time I responded, I forced myself to mean it. By the time I said my last I do, I was able to look my future husband in the face once more.
He smiled at me reassuringly as the priest turned to him.
“Carlos Guerra. Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, beneath the eyes of God and all of those here present as your witnesses today?”
Warmth radiated from Carlos. He squeezed my fingers and held my gaze. “I—
A crack of noise echoed around the room, so ear-splintering loud.
I flinched. “What was—”
Carlos’s eyes went wide.
His grip loosened on mine.
His knees buckled, hitting the floor, and he collapsed face down on the altar at my feet.
A bullet hole in his back, blood pooling around us at an alarming rate.
Time slowed down to a crawl while my brain tried to process.
I glanced around the room, searching for the gunman. A sniper, hidden in the rafters maybe. Or a jealous enemy storming into the wedding from out on the street.
Screams rang out around the church, and Carlos’s men all came out of the woodwork, wearing all-black suits, blocking exits, glaring at the panicked crowd.
Enzo stepped forward, holding a gun in his hand.
A deathly silence settled over the church as one by one, everyone realized what had happened.
Enzo stared down at his older brother’s back, aimed his gun, and took three more shots, unloading bullets into his brother’s body.
I couldn’t move. Fear froze me to the spot, even as Carlos’s blood sprayed crimson red across my white dress.
Enzo put his gun back into the waistband of his pants and knelt at his brother’s side, pressing two fingers to his neck. Satisfied there was no pulse, he stood, facing the shocked crowd of onlookers. “My brother is dead.”
Someone cried loudly at the back of the church, a wail of sorrow and keening echoing through the room. Hushed whispers joined in one by one, as women clutched at each other and the men put on poker faces, schooling their features from shock to cold indifference.
I saw each emotion play out on my father’s face before he got himself under control.
The only man there who had been cold as stone the entire time was the one who stared at me now, his freezing, serpent-eyed gaze raking over me like I was the toy he’d wanted but his brother had kept from him.
There was no one keeping him from me now.
Enzo faced the room. “Sit down. All of you.”
I’d never seen three hundred people obey a command so quickly.
Enzo smiled, clearly enjoying the position of power he’d suddenly found himself in.
“My brother is dead, but his legacy will not end here today. The marriage will proceed. I will take his place. The heir will be legitimized and raised as a Guerra.” He turned to stare at me with all the sick things he wanted playing out over his too-sharp-featured face.
“This baby will have my name,” Enzo declared. “And Nyah will be my wife.”
The end…