Mario straightens and heads for the door. “Thanks, man,” he says. “Got the name we need and no need for a douchebag brother-in-law. Excellent.”
The door slams behind us. We just threw a fucking grenade at the Campanelles.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rosa
Bright sunlight poured into the large bay window where I dressed. The angels themselves couldn’t have fashioned a more beautiful day. Birds tweet outside the windows, and Mama’s set up the garden to look like a fairy wonderland.
I stare at myself in the mirror and suppose from the outside I look pretty enough.
“Beautiful.”
Santo’s deep voice comes from the doorway but it’s a mocking tone with a cold edge. I turn to him, dressed in bridal white.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” I whisper.
“Why not?” he asks with a scowl. “Not see the Mafia Princess married to her Prince Charming?”
I turned away from him. It was too painful to listen to his taunts, and I knew it would make me cry.
“Go away. My makeup’s been done, and I’ll have to ask them to fix it if you make me cry.”
I tried to sound aloof and detached, but my voice would wobble at the end.
“Go ahead. Cry. It won’t do you any good now,” he says. I look to see him take another long sip from his flask.
It was a morning wedding. He probably never even went to bed the night before. Still, he looked handsome as sin in his tux, a trail of ink showing at his neck.
“Go away, Santo, you’re drunk.”
Don’t go. Stay here. Don’t let this happen.
But those were the words that couldn’t be said aloud.
He only took another sip and looked at me, bleary-eyed and unfocused. It broke my heart.
“He’s a good man,” I lied.
He shut the door behind me with a bang that made me jump. Stalked to me. Placed his hands on my hips. The two of us stared ahead into the full-length mirror and captured each other’s eyes. It was strange, staring into his eyes as he stood behind me.
“He’s a bastard.”
I don’t argue with him.
“You’re beautiful, Rosa,” he whispered. “So damn beautiful. You’re an angel straight from heaven.”
The tenderness in his voice almost broke me.
If we were caught now, the consequences would bring my whole family to ruin. Anthony Mercadio would rant and rave and demand repayment in some terrible form from Romeo. And Papa… I couldn’t even bear to think what Papa would do.
To me.
To Santo.
I’d be beaten and locked up.
Santo would be killed.
“Santo…”
My voice was choked when he gently brought his lips to my neck and kissed me. My eyelids fluttered closed, and I stifled a cry.
“No, Santo. No,” I said, but it was a weak plea for him to stop.
But stop he did.
He pulled away from me at the sound of high heels clicking in the hallway. Louder. Coming closer.
“Go ahead,” he whispered in my ear. “Take the son of a bitch’s name. Wear his ring. Say those vows.” He released me and stood apart as the heels clicked louder.
I braced myself for scathing parting words, for him to call me a liar, for anything but what he did.
“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him,” he said softly. “Painfully and slowly.” He took another swig of whiskey and his eyes shone with tears when he said, “He doesn’t deserve a woman like you. Fuck it, no one does.”
The door between rooms clicked shut as he left, as the door to my dressing room opened for Mama.
“Aw, sweetheart,” Mama said gently. “It’s normal to cry on your wedding day.”
Santo came to me before he left.
He gestured for me to go into the room, pushed me in, and kissed me.
It was a kiss that knocked me off my feet and told me he loved me. I felt that kiss travel from my lips to every fiber of my being, warming me from the inside out.
But it was a kiss with a flavor of farewell. And I don’t… like to think I’m a superstitious person, but my mind travels back to the horoscope Marialena read on her birthday. The sense of foreboding I felt even then.
Santo kissed me because he knew something was going to happen, like a solider about to take his position on the front line of battle.
I doubt he felt he was going into dangerous territory so much as he felt something threaten the stability of… of us.
I’ve spent the day doing the usual things. I played with Natalia, and we bought a few more dresses online. Sometimes retail therapy helps, sometimes it doesn’t.
It didn’t help me today, but it cheered Natalia up.
I went over the incoming inventory lists with Elise and picked out some sweet little baby gifts to buy for Elise and Tavi.
I played with Angelina and the baby, and helped Mama cook the hugest batch of marinara I’ve ever seen, then convinced Nonna to make not one but two batches of her biscotti so we’d avoid Rossi Family World War III.