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It’s not until we’re sent off with cheers and applause and rowdy shouted jokes and in our room, the door firmly shut behind us, that Luca turns to me with an expression like someone just walked over his grave.
“We have to talk,” he says quietly. He sinks into a nearby chair heavily, pulling at his tie, and I can see that he’s a little drunk.
My heart skips in my chest, my throat tightening. Nothing about his tone suggests that it’s something good, and I bite back my frustration.I thought marrying you today meant everything would be okay,I want to snap, but I don’t. For once, Luca doesn’t look cold, or irritable, or combative. He just looks exhausted.
As I stand there, waiting for him to say something else, I see his gaze trail over me, from my face all the way down my dress to the floor and back up again. There’s nothing cold or assessing in it though, nor is there the hot desire that I’ve seen there before, the desire to possess me, to force me to bend to him.
“You look beautiful,” he says softly, and all I can do is stand there speechless.
This isn’t the Luca I know.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice trembling a little. “Is there some problem? Has something gone wrong?”
“It’s Rossi,” Luca says, leaning forward.
“What about him?” I keep my voice carefully neutral, even as my heart starts to race. I can feel that old familiar pinging sensation, that warning of danger, and it’s all I can do not to run out of the hotel room. But whatever Luca is about to tell me, whatever is about to happen, there’s one thing that I’m certain of.
I’m not going to be able to escape it or outrun it. I can see it in his face.
“He knows that you’re a virgin,” Luca says carefully. “I don’t know how he found out, but—”
I feel my blood turn to ice. For a second I can’t breathe, the room swirling around me. I remember the conversation I’d had with him on the dance floor, and suddenly it all makes sense.
“It’s my fault,” I whisper. “I didn’t know that he wasn’t aware—”
Luca is on his feet in an instant, striding towards me. “What happened?” he asks sharply. His gaze meets mine, bright and intense, and I suddenly feel very small beneath it.
“He asked me if I was nervous.” I pause, chewing on my lower lip. “I wasn’t sure what he meant, and he said the wedding night—he wondered if I was worried about the first time.”
“Did you tell him that I’d agreed not to touch you?” Luca’s voice rises, deep and thunderous. “What the fuck did you say, Sofia?”
I shrink backwards. “Not much! I thought it was weird that he was asking me about having sex with you. I just said that I wasn’t really nervous, that I was sure you knew what to do and that you’d help me through it. And then he just nodded like I’d answered some question for him, and passed me off to another guest who wanted to dance. I thought it was strange, but—”
The memory of my dance with Don Rossi comes back to me, the way he’d looked down at me with that charming smile on his face, his eyes flicking over me as if sizing me up. The way he’d casually asked “Are you nervous, little one? For your first night with a man like Luca?”
I’d said no, of course, that I wasn’t nervous at all. “It’s supposed to be something to look forward to, right?” I’d said cheerfully. “The first time with your new husband?” And he’d smiled knowingly, as if I’d just told him something he’d been curious about.
Which, of course, now I know that I had.
I look up at Luca, twisting my hands together to keep them from trembling. “What’s going on?”
His jaw clenches tightly, the muscles there working, and I can see him holding on to his self-control. It makes me almost dizzy with fear, because I can tell that this is more than just him being irritated or pissed at me. Something is very, very wrong.
“I lied for you,” he bites out, looming over me. “Do you knowanythingabout the marital customs of mafia families, Sofia?”
“No,” I whisper. “I never needed to, I—”
“The custom,” he says sharply, each word coming out punctuated, “is that the parents of the bride and groom, the maid of honor and the best man all come up to the bedroom the next morning, to see that the marriage has been consummated. It’s tradition, to prove that the marriage is real and legal, and that the bride’s virginity has been taken by the groom. It’s old and outdated,” he adds, seeing the look on my face, “but it is custom. And since you insisted that I not touch you as a condition of our marriage, well—you can see how that put me in a difficult situation.”
“You should have told me,” I whisper. I feel as if I can’t breathe.
“You’re right,” he admits, and I can feel my eyes widening just from the shock of that admission. “But it’s my experience that the more people who know you’ve told a lie, the more quickly that lie is found out.”
“So what now?” I wrap my arms around myself, the soft lace of the dress rubbing against my skin. “What happens?”
Luca looks down at me for a moment, and the silence stretches out between us. “We have to sleep together tonight,” he says finally.
I stare up at him, speechless. My first, immediate thought is that he’s lying tome, so that he can get me into bed. But looking into his eyes, I can see that isn’t the case. I’ve seen hunger in his eyes, and desire, and lust. I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he wants to make me beg for him, when he wants me to bend to his will. This isn’t that. He looks almost defeated, like a man who is backed into a corner with no recourse.
