“You wouldn't know them,” I say.
"No." Mila's smile widens. "I don't suppose we would, what with such a quick and private wedding ceremony and all."
“He certainly is not his father,” Mila adds. “Don Leo was always fond of a good party.”
I don’t say anything in return. If these women know even a fraction of what I know about Don Leo, none of them would have anything good to say about Don Leo.
“Love the dress, by the way.” Carina reaches out and fingers the thin sleeve hanging off my arm. “Where’d you get it?”
“At a boutique in Soho.”
Her smile widens. “But which one?”
“Oh…” I pause, trying desperately to remember the name. But I hadn’t been paying attention when Anastasio brought me there. “I don’t remember.”
“Such a shame,” she tuts. “I would love to visit and choose a design as… bold as yours.”
“Yes, very bold,” Mila says. “Did no-one tell you about proper decorum in a church?”
I want you to wear it to church. So that I can identify every man who dares to look at you, and know exactly who to bury after.
But while no man is looking at me, I can’t say the same about women. All three of them stare at my bared shoulders in disdain. And all around, the older wives are doing the same in their own little circles. Hands rise up to cover their mouths. Whispers take flight on wings under the arched ceiling, and I know the topic of their gossip even without hearing a word.
“No-one’s really told me much of anything,” I lie, suddenly resenting that Nico took what was supposed to be my weapon against him into another way for him to humiliate me.
“Well that’s obvious,” Talia murmurs. “If they had, you’d know about every protocol you’re breaking right now.”
“Now, now, be nice, girls.” Carina smooths her own covered sleeve. “She doesn’t know any better. But I suppose that’s what happens when the Don picks a common girl like her up off the streets.”
My face flushes hot and I want to shout that she’s one to talk, with her tits practically falling out of her own dress. But I know that’s exactly the kind of reaction they’re looking for. And I knowthat if I react now, all I’d do is cause a scandal that will make its way to Nico.
And if that happens, then my life will only get more miserable. I’m sure of it.
So, I do my best to keep my face as neutral as possible. “I think I’ll go find my seat. It was lovely meeting you all.”
“Yes it is, Mrs. D’Ambrosio,” Mila bows mockingly. “You and Don Nico simplymustjoin me and Dante for brunch one of these days. I’m sure we’ll have so much more to talk about.”
“I’m sure we do.”Pretty sure we don’t.
I start walking away from them, and there’s no mistaking the peal of laughter that bursts out between the three of them. The buzzing murmurs are growing louder now, and I take a seat at a far corner of the pews.
But it’s impossible to hide here. Eyes keep turning towards me. I reach up and hug myself tight, and I swear I can hear more laughter rising up all around.
"Don't mind them." A warm and low voice rises from my left.
An older woman is standing to my side. Her eyes are kind with visible laugh lines crinkling at the edges. She’s wearing a simple navy dress and a little girl in a white pinafore holds her hand, half-hiding in her skirt.
"I'm Elena," she says. "My husband Sal is an associate of your husband’s. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. D’Ambrosio."
There’s no malice in her voice, and the warmth of her eyes tells me that her pleasure is genuine.
I muster a small smile at her. “Good to meet you, Elena.”
“Here.” She pulls out a soft cream scarf from her bag and holds it out to me. “The stone makes it cold here, even in the summer. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold on your first mass with us.”
It's a small mercy and a small lie. But I accept her gift with trembling hands, and wrap it around my shoulder. Warm relief pours into me as soon as I do.
“Thank you.” I smile at her again, before looking back at Mila, Carina, and Talia still gossiping amongst themselves.
