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“Roses. I adore all colours but especially pink and red.”
"We can do a bouquet in a mix of pink, red, and white if you would like." Eroldo offered.
He crossed the floor to a stand filled with buckets of flowers on the other side of the store. He plucked a handful of pink roses from one bucket, then the same in red and white from buckets alongside. He merged them with sprigs of Baby's-breath before coming back to where I stood.
"What do you think? We'll use white and pink ribbon tied in a huge bow and the ends will flow down your dress."
“I love it, thank you.”
"We'll have the roses delivered fresh on the day and bring the bouquet to the house about an hour before the wedding," Alec assured.
"Four corsages also, gentlemen. One for me, Enzo, Benvolio, and Gaetano whom I assume will stand up with him."
“Will you be having a bridesmaid, Nikita?” Eroldo questioned.
“No. I have a few good friends but no one I want at the wedding.”
Lucia and I hugged the men, said we would see them again on the day of the wedding, and left the store.
We climbed back into the car and Lucia instructed Mario to take us to Myers at Eastgardens. He delivered us to the entry doors and Lucia, and I spent the next hour combing the store. I’d left my credit card back at the house and Lucia kindly offered to pay for everything, refusing my offer to pay her back.
Shorts, skirts, tops, sandals, scuffs, lightweight dresses, and flat pumps were added to the basket in my hands before we headed to the cosmetics and perfume counters. Hair accessories, makeup, and a bottle of Chanel No 5 were the final products before we paid.
Lucia sent a text to Mario who met us back at the doors and my parcels were loaded into the boot of the car before we were driven away.
On the way home Lucia spoke about the remaining tasks that needed to be done. "I've organised hair and makeup, Chantelle has a young lady who does both and I believe she is very good. There is only the caterer to be contacted now and I will do that when we get home."
I placed a hand over Lucia’s that was resting on her thigh, and she turned her face to mine. “Thank you for everything, Lucia. I don’t want this marriage. I don’t want to be anyone’s wife, least of all Benvolio’s, but I will do this for you because I don’t want to cause upset. But, Lucia, please don’t hold out hope that there will ever be love between me and your son. There is too much hatred between us, and a marriage begun under these circumstances will never succeed.”
"Give it one year and if you are unhappy at the end of that time, I will speak with Enzo and do whatever I can to help you divorce."
“Thank you.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence as I contemplated there was a light at the end of a very dark tunnel. In some ways, I was actually looking forward to my wedding. It was likely the only one I would have, and I wanted to see what it felt like to be a princess for the day.
Chapter Seven
BENVOLIO
Gaetano pulled the car into a space in the secured car park at Nascondiglio. After stepping from the vehicle, I straightened my tie, noting a couple of spots of blood, and fastened the button on my jacket, putting the blood out of sight.
Nascondiglio was an exclusive, illegal gambling den with a membership of only eighty men. Clientele were carefully chosen and included politicians, high-ranking police and defence officials, billionaires, judges, and lawyers. They were all men with a hell of a lot to lose which made me confident none would breathe a word about club activities. It had been operating for almost forty years under the supervision of my father and there had never been even a hint of a problem.
It was common that mafia families, like motorcycle clubs, only catered for men which, although socially unacceptable in the current day and age, was not going to change anytime soon. Even the dealers at the tables were trusted members of the family and all men. In all, we had six gambling dens and four strip clubs positioned throughout the city. Nascondiglio was our most exclusive and largest. It was a lucrative business, turning over in excess of two hundred million dollars a year.
I punched a code into the top panel on the wall by a door and a second code into the panel below. The door clicked and I pushed it open. This door gave us entry into the yard surrounding the warehouse which was protected by four-metre-high brick walls and a state-of-the-art surveillance system.
We crossed the yard to a one-metre-thick steel door. I pushed my thumb onto a pressure pad before punching a code into the panel below. The door swung open, and Zane greeted us when we stepped inside.
Looking over his shoulder, I saw many of the tables were active despite it being early in the afternoon.
“Casey is in the office.”
We followed Zane to the club’s administration office where we shook hands with Casey. Savastino closed the door and while Zane poured us all a whisky, we sat down.
“What can we do for you, Boss?” Casey asked.
Zane set the whisky in front of us and stood behind Casey.
