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He stands, and so do his goons. Gia stays sitting, her head tilted as she studies me. Marco and my brothers haven’t stood up either.
There’s a tension in the room, and I don’t know what it’s about, but I definitely don’t like it.
Elio turns, snapping the silence as quick as a knife thrust. “Put her in the car. I’ll follow after making a stop.”
I frown. Who is he talking about?
Everyone turns to me, expectant. One of the goons moves forward, but Sal throws out a hand. “You don’t touch her,” he growls.
I look at Marco. “What’s going on?”
“It seems that your new husband has a plan for how the rest of the evening will go,” he says coolly, his eyes glued to Elio.
Elio arches one eyebrow. “I believe my wife and I are entitled to some privacy on our wedding night.”
He says ‘wife’ like it’s a curse.
Then, I realize what’s going on. “Wait. No. I’m not ready to go anywhere. I thought that we would still have time to….” My voice trails off.
Time to say goodbye to Luna.
She’s packed, mostly. I know that Sal and Dino will get her to Nonna Mia’s farm just outside of Shamong, and they’ll protect her with their lives if they have to.
But I didn’t say goodbye to her.
“I need my bags. My clothes. My things,” I try to say without my voice shaking.
I don’t need clothes or anything of that nature. I have no doubt that Elio probably has a whole new wardrobe for me in Italy, but I need the cell phone that’s hidden inside a secret compartment in my Louis Vuitton bag.
I need to say goodbye to my child.
Blood is rushing in my ears as I scan my brothers’ faces. Their expressions range from cool detachment to dismay, and I can see Sal flexing his fingers, his thigh vibrating as he fights the urge to lash out.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
We didn’t discuss what might happen if Elio had a marriage license right there on the table in front of us.
Marco is staring at me, his eyes cold.
My heart screams. I want to beg Marco to say no. To let me stay.
He gives me the tiniest shake of his head, and I know that he’s telling me to go along with it.
It’s worse than being stabbed in the back.
“Marco…” I whisper.
Elio spins. For the first time he looks at me dead in the face, coming close enough that I can count the dark eyelashes fanned out at the edges of his eyes.
Dear god.
They’re Luna’s eyelashes.
“Don’t say his name. Don’t call for him. He can’t help you anymore. You're mine, Caterina, and no one can save you now.”
He says it under his breath, a hissed whisper that is meant for me and me alone.
Caterina.
