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She carried a bouquet of burgundy flowers. As was the Italian tradition, I had sent the bouquet as a gift to my bride-to-be this morning.
Napoleone looked like he would burst with pride. He was very fond of his daughter, and I could tell by the way he looked at her that he loved her very much. That in itself was unusual for Made Men of his generation—they tended to keep their emotions hidden. The Venetis, however, seemed to do everything in their own way.
As she walked toward me, she kept her eyes straight ahead and avoided my gaze.
When they reached the altar, Napoleone slowly lifted her veil, revealing her face to me, and placed her small hand in mine.
She looked up at me, not flinching as I stared back at her. She was indeed beautiful, and I felt lucky to have her as my bride.
As I held her warm hand tightly within mine, the Catholic priest began the wedding ceremony.
“Lorenzo and Annunciata, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
I replied, “I have,” and then looked across at my bride.
She replied, “I have,” and I gave a silent sigh of relief. At least the girl had some sense of self-preservation.
“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live? And are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his church?”
I replied, “I am.”
“I am.” Anni’s voice was strong and firm.
“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of holy matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his church,” decreed the priest.
I turned to Anni to make my vows to her. “I, Lorenzo, take you, Annunciata, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
Then it was Anni’s turn. “I, Annunciata, take you, Lorenzo, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
Hearing her say these words willingly made me think that perhaps our marriage could work and be a happy one.
The priest asked for the rings, and Aloysius passed me the wedding ring he was looking after.
I took Anni’s band and slid it onto her finger. “Annunciata, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
Anni then took my wedding band and repeated the same words to me as she placed it on my finger.
When the priest announced that I could kiss my wife, I felt a moment of triumph. I pulled her roughly against my chest and pressed my lips firmly against hers.
A small gasp escaped from her mouth as if she hadn’t expected the kiss, and I let my warm breath caress her perfect lips.
As I pulled back, I looked deep into her eyes. My kiss had been hard and possessive. She was mine now, and I felt a sense of satisfaction surge within me, as well as the flames of desire stirring my loins.
The string quartet struck up Schubert’s Ave Maria. As I held tightly onto Anni’s hand, we turned to face the congregation and made our way back down the aisle.
Outside St. Napoleone’s, we stood on the stone steps as people congratulated us, and the photographer snapped away.
“Congratulations, bro,” said Marco, shaking my hand and giving a rare smile. “I’m happy for you, I really am.”
I thought back to our previous conversation where he’d told me that my kids needed a mother. I’d known in my heart of hearts that he was right. “Hey, you’re twenty-seven now, so you should be married soon as well.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” was all he said. He wasn’t a man to be tied down—he was a cold, ruthless monster who lived for power and bloodshed.
Once the photographer had got what he needed, I put my arm around Anni. “Come. I’ll drive us to the reception.”
ANNUNCIATA
Lorenzo gripped my hip possessively and ushered me to his black Mercedes to drive me to the reception.
