My father grabs my arm, loops it with his and he mumbles, “Time to get this over with, Isabella. Now, smile and look happy. Don’t embarrass this family.” He reaches for the veil before we make our way.
I close my eyes and count to five before I open them back up. The veil now over my face, which I rather enjoy. It helps me keep distance from what’s about to happen since I can’t see much. The doors open again the music changes to “Ave Maria” for me to walk down the aisle. Everyone, facing the door from the pews. Every pair of eyes are on me. I plaster on the fakest smile. The high ceilings with stone columns and the stained-glass artwork are illuminated by the sun shining through. The intricate designs on the columns explain the history of God. The candles line the aisle, giving off a glow with the lights dimmedand covered with white dahila’s. There was no expense lost. My mother had full control of this wedding. I always dreamed of a small, intimate wedding with my husband and few friends and family. But she, of course, would not have that. It had to be over the top and expensive.
Ian stood on the altar next to the priest with a sly smile on his handsome face. His black tux fits him well with his dark hair slicked back, face perfectly shaven and his green eyes are watching my every move. I keep thinking of how this man is going to be my first real kiss, my first man I will be alone with let alone the first man who will see my body naked. He is going to see the rolls on my stomach with the stretch marks, the cellulite on my thighs and ass. I hate looking at my own body, and I know he will be disgusted. I’m nowhere ready to have sex with him and I know he is going to expect it.
Lucia locks eyes with me, pleading for me to stop but I can’t. My father and I reach Ian as he steps down to greet us.
The priest smiles and speaks loudly with his voice bouncing off the walls. “Who presents this woman to be married to this man?”
My father puffs out his chest and says, “I do.” He leans in, lifts my veil and kisses my cheek to show what an adoring father he is.
He then takes my hand and places it into Ian’s.
Ian bends down to make it seem he is saying sweet nothings. “Hope you’re ready for tonight to perform your wifely duties.” His words send a shiver down my back making me feel uneasy.
I can’t shake this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know there is no way for me to stop this whole charade of a marriage because my father would kill me without a second glance. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I close my eyes, pushing down the rising bile.
My legs feel like they weigh five million pounds and Ian has to practically pull me up the steps to that altar. I pass my bouquetmix of white hydrangeas and greenery before Ian takes both of my hands in his. He rubs each of his thumbs over the back of my hand. His hands are rough and dry, making mine feel itchy.
The priest speaks to the congregation. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirt, Amen.”
We all respond. “Amen.”
“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
We all echo, “Amen.”
He continues to a prayer. “O God, who created man and woman in your image, and joined them in the bond of marriage, we humbly ask your blessing upon your servants, Isabella Rose Costa and Ian Alberto Di Marco who now come before you to be united in the sacrament of matrimony.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure standing at the back of the church hidden in the shadows. They start to move and walk down the aisle as the priest reads from his Bible. Everyone has their head bowed listening to the prayer. “Grant them your grace to love and cherish one another faithfully throughout their lives, and may their union be a reflection of the love between Christ and his Church. We pray this through Christ and our Lord. Amen.”
I turn my head slightly before everyone lifts their heads to the rushing at the back of the church. My eyes lock onto the most chocolate eyes I have ever seen. Don Ricci. I could not forget his eyes. They have been appearing in my dreams. Now, they are here making me feel like I’m on fire from the inside.
Ian raises his head along with the priest and the congregation. He turns his head to see who has my attention, and when he sees its Don Enzo Ricci, the hold of my hands in his tightens. Ian growls with everyone turning in their seats as well.
“Son, what brings you––––”
“My deepest apologies, Father, for speaking before you ask for any objections.” He stops just a little over midway of the aisle.He has one hand in his pocket with the other across his black suit jacket. “This matter could not wait a second longer.”
My body starts to come alive at the alter staring at the man who has been taking up space in my head. In my dreams. Don Enzo Ricci. He appears like the dark prince I remember from the party a few months ago. The sharpness of his jaw beneath his light stubble is more pronounce under the lights of the church. My fingers itch to run along it to feel its coarseness against their tips. He’s dressed in all black, like the night I met him a few months ago. Crisp black button up shit, the top few are undone with his tanned and tattoos on display. I can’t move or look away as I’m frozen in place from his stare.
In a blink of an eye, he reaches around his back, pulls out his gun and aims it at Ian. My dream turns into a nightmare. The rumors of Don Enzo Ricci are real. He is dangerous. This cannot be happening. I need to move but my feet are stuck.
My eyes widen and I gasp, drawing my hand away from his to distance myself. Ian drops my hands and tries to reach for his and never moves in front of me to protect me. Screams bounce off the walls, people duck down, the Di Marco’s stand. Lucia darts behind the podium. The priest is frozen in place. And my father sits calmly and checks his watch.
In slow motion, I feel like I am watching a movie as the gun goes off making a loud banging sound. The next sound that I hear is my own piercing scream and covered in blood.
I kept to the shadows when I arrived at the church with my men spread throughout the dark alongside me. My eyes narrowed on Ian standing at the altar with a merciless look on his face. The beast inside me shook its cage to be released. I clench my fists at my sides with my fingernails digging into my palms. I spin my head as the doors open and soft music plays. The sun shines through the back of the church, creating a halo glow around Isabella, like a fallen angel whose wings do not need to be clipped but healed for her to fly.
My gaze travels over her body. At the way the dress hugs her curves in the right places. Places that I cannot wait to explore with my hands and, tongue, and marks when she obeys me. Her full breasts are contained behind the lace fabric of her dress. Her chest rises and falls with each breath. Her hair, dark as the night sky, is down in loose waves, draping over her shoulders. The veil covers her beautiful face, shielding her from what is to come. I watch her every moment as she walks. She grips her bouquet, making her fingers white, and I see her father whisper something in her ear. Her posture stiffens and I hate the way how her father’s words can cut her. I suppress a growl.
They make their way to the front, where Ian is waiting. The look he had as she walked toward him was like watching a spider weave its prey into their web. Her hand slips into his before the priest begins his prayer.
I start to move along the darkened side of the church to where Isabella just exited from. I step into the light while everyonehas bowed their heads in prayer. My feet carry me quietly down the aisle and stopping when her sapphire eyes meet mine. The sides of my mouth pull into a small smile as I see her shake off whatever comment she heard from her father. Her shoulders relax the longer she looks at me and the tension in her face softens. And I ache. The control I have over her with just a look.
Ian’s gaze snaps to mine. His nostrils flare, face turns red, and his grip on Isabella’s hand tightens.
Father, standing in his white robe, purple sash hanging around his neck and down his chest. His glasses are too small for his old face and his white as snow hair is only around half his head with the top bald.
“Son, what brings you––––”
