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The stare-off could burn the chapel down. It goes on for a full minute as Gabi’s chest heaves, his hand still hovering over his gun. Enzo stands like a wall between Gabi and me.
The tap of a cane shatters the silence.
“Enough.” Nonna Rosa comes forward. “Today is a celebration. Any blood spilled here will be Benedetti blood since these two are already wed.”
“I expected better from you, Nonna.” Gabi grits his teeth, but after a long stare, he backs down, spins, and storms out of the chapel while shouting obscenities.
Apparently not even Padrino crosses this woman.
She smiles at me and levels a finger at Enzo. “Take care of your wife, and don’t be stupid, boy. Don’t make me regret vouching for you.” With that, she leaves as well.
Enzo turns to me and offers his arm. I don’t want to accept it, but my hand moves anyway. His warm, solid grip wraps around mine.
As we walk out, my gaze brushes Izzy.
Her eyes are like daggers, her lips pressed together tightly. I can sense pure venom radiating from every inch of her, and it causes a cold dread to pool in my stomach.
In chasing my freedom, I might’ve walked into a fire. I can already feel the flames.
Sophia
We head into a gleaming great hall for the reception, still on the Benedetti compound, which sprawls across acres like a small kingdom tucked into the hills. The hall itself, with vaulted ceilings that stretch impossibly high and blazing chandeliers, could fit two hundred. Tables creak under the weight of roast meats, glistening fruits, and crystal glasses filled to the rim with wine expensive enough to make drowning in it sound appealing.
Laughter livens the space, and I wonder how they can all seem so at ease after what almost happened in the chapel.
Enzo leads me up an altar-like platform, where I sit beside the man I just married.
He says nothing. If there are repercussions coming after that standoff with Gabi, he doesn’t seem worried about them. He simply sips more wine and stares into the crowd with deadened eyes.
I’ve learned enough from today to understand how to survive here. For now, or however long this bizarre arrangement lasts, we stick to the fake marriage game. Every muscle in my body stays taut as I play my role, my spine forced into a rod of elegance.
Men kiss my hand with oily grins. Women offer tight smiles. Children wave, some curious, some afraid.
I smile back and nod until my face aches and my neck muscles spasm. As I do, I die, inch by inch.
Enzo leans in. “The guests are going to continue coming up here to pay homage. It’s tradition. Stay put. Keep smiling. Don’t say anything stupid.”
His breath brushes the shell of my ear, eliciting shivers. Damn him.
“Does this circus come with a honeymoon suite?” My voice drips with sugar-coated venom. “Or are we skipping straight to the consummation?”
He stiffens slightly, narrowing his eyes while bending closer. “No, I have no interest in that. I know where to get my desires fulfilled.”
The response hits me like a slap.
My chest tightens. The shame and anger burning through me constrict my throat, and I have to force myself to breathe and not react.
Why does that sting?
I shouldn’t care…but I do.
I should feel relieved…but I don’t.
Izzy appears next, dressed in a golden gown snug enough to strangle logic. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
She walks up to me and hunches forward, hissing between flawless teeth. “Cute dress. Shame it won’t keep him.”
My chin lifts. “Cute face. Shame you lost him to me.”
