And I'll spend every day trying not to think about how badly I want her to choose me—not because she has to, but because, like me, she can't imagine being with anyone else.
Polina
The church is small. Old stone, stained glass, the smell of incense clinging to everything.
My hands shake as I smooth the skirt of a cream silk dress that someone—Dante's assistant, I assume—delivered an hour ago.
This is happening. This is actually happening.
I'm getting married.
To a man I met two days ago.
The priest stands at the altar, his expression kind but impersonal. He's done this a thousand times. For him, this is just another Tuesday.
For me, it's everything.
Dante stands at the altar in a black suit that makes him look like sin incarnate.
The only other people in the church are three men—Dante's inner circle.
He introduced me to them when we arrived.
Luca, his underboss, with sharp cheekbones and calculating eyes, stands beside Dante, watching me with interest.
Another man, Mattia, who is broader, with scars visible even from this distance, stands at the doors like a security guard.
The third man is Dante’s brother, Dario. He’s handsome. Not as handsome as Dante, but no one is. Not to me.
Three very dangerous mafia men.
And I'm about to marry their Don.
Dante’s eyes find mine, and everything else falls away.
I can't breathe.
The priest begins speaking in Italian, and I only catch a few phrases. Doesn't matter. I know what I'm agreeing to.
I repeat the vows when prompted, and I mean every single word—to have and to hold, for better or worse—even though I know he doesn't feel the same.
He speaks his vows like a man signing a treaty. Clear. Concise. Binding but emotionless.
I try not to mind.
This is business for him. A strategic move to keep the peace and protect an asset.
The priest says something about rings. Dante produces two simple gold bands—when did he have time to get these?—and slides one onto my finger.
It fits perfectly.
Of course it does.
Then it's my turn. I take his large hand and slip the ring onto his finger. I’m trembling so badly I almost drop it, but he steadies me with a slight squeeze.
"Per il potere conferitomi," the priest intones, "vi dichiaro marito e moglie."
Husband and wife.
