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Wait!
Realization hit me like a bullet to the gut.
It can’t be. He can’t be a white knight.
He was too stained in red to have any other color. No mafioso was selfless, never mind one that was set to rule this corner of the world. I stood there while they spoke, not hearing a word they said from that point on, just dwelling on this new piece of information that slowly sunk into my brain. I occasionally dared a glance at Matt as he smiled and talked, searching for the ruthlessness I had seen before, finding that it had simply vanished.
There had to be more to this swap than saving his little brother from marrying someone other than the love of his life. That would make Matt too… human, and I didn’t like what that did to my resolve.
Matt was gifting them a chance to be happy, and I was stuck dwelling on what one could call a technicality. I was already being bound against my will anyway, did it really matter to whom?
I couldn’t decide on how that realization affected me. Us.
Maybe the devil had a heart after all.
Chapter 3
Francesca
We kept up with the act, greeting and thanking every guest for gracing us with their presence.
It was so fake I could puke. Still, it needed to be done to some extent.
Matt exuded power, authority, and confidence, with every step he took, with every person he talked to, while he glided through the tables introducing me to everyone I didn’t know. I observed as all that commanding poise shone from him just as a bright aura would from an angel.
I couldn’t say he wasn’t captivating. I knew better than to lie to myself that way. It was just a damn shame he was my captor.
Every Don with a seat in The Commission was here, as well as every capo of the families under the Battaglia's reign, all dressed to impress, leaving the black suits paired with black shirts and black ties for another reality. Their souls? Those hadn’t the choice to morph on command.
Today, they all wore deception. New threads of lighter shades that hid the darkness beneath, hands clean of their regular crimson, and smiles instead of gritted teeth. All in honor of some of the guests who were still blind to our reality or found solace and safety in faking ignorance.
I couldn’t deny that knowledge was a power many died for. Or over. It depended on who spoke those words, the killer or the carrion. As for these honored guests, the mayor, two congressmen, a senator, and their significant others, it was best if they overlooked the red and focused on the green these men greased their hands with.
After introductions were made, I finally knew who this spectacle was for. The ones who believed that even the shadiest of men married for love. Selective naiveness, I’m sure.
As for me, my half of the guest list was just one table away, and then I’d be calling the shots.
These capi I knew.
They’d seen me grow up and thrive in a business made for men. I had been on my father and uncle’s arm since I could shoot a bullseye and vote on the same day. They knew the rebel and fighter in me. They also knew the chaos of pain scarring me since my father hadn’t returned home one night. That was almost two months ago.
Most of all, they gave me their respect for the whole package, and that was all I could ask for.
I could see my husband’s astonishment growing with each new interaction. Vicious men, vouching for me as one of their own. Their family, just as they would for the great Enzo Amato. Every new face lay a disguised threat, an army of mafiosos protecting me from my new husband.
Yet, at the end of the day, I was still his to do with as he pleased. That was the unspoken rule of these arranged marriages, and misogyny dictated that I’d take it and still thank him at the end.
Michael, Antonio, and Rafael, my brothers, enveloped me into a group hug, lifting me off my feet, taking turns to kiss me and whisper encouraging words, not refraining from showing their discomfort with this arrangement.
“We are a call away, Principessa. Husband or not, he doesn’t get to touch you if you don’t want him to.” Antonio was purposefully loud, making sure Matt was listening. If he took it as offensive, he didn’t show it.
He had this guarded demeanor, calculating and even cold. No emotion would slip past the mask he had put on.
“You’re tough, Baby Girl. This is a walk in the park. Soon enough, he’ll get whatever he’s running after with this marriage, and you’ll be free to leave. If not, we can always trust that a mafioso’s life expectancy is quite short. And accidents do happen every day, it seems.” Michael was always pragmatic, but instead of relieving, his words stirred my emotions all over again.
“That’s right, Francy. We’ll come visit whenever you want us to. Tommy will come for you, too. I’m sure.”
They meant well, but the mention of Tommy broke me right there and then, the sting of incoming tears burning my eyes all over again. How would I ever see Tommy again? It was too dangerous, and I couldn’t trust my new husband to understand.
