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When we arrived at the salon, Jacob parked right in front of it, ignoring the ‘No Parking’ sign. Most of the cops in the city were in the back pocket of the Società, so he didn’t have to worry about minor inconveniences like parking tickets.
He got out of the car, scanning the immediate area for any potential threats, before opening my door and waiting for me to step out of the car. He put his hand lightly at my elbow and led me into the salon. “One of our soldiers is guarding the back entrance. I’ll wait in the car—I can see everything from there and I’ve got some calls to make.”
He could have come in and sat on the ‘man couch’, an area for guys to wait while the women had their treatments. If you were a normal girl, the waiting guy would be your bored boyfriend. However, if you were a Mafia girl, the waiting guy would be your bored bodyguard.
After getting my nails done, Jacob took me for my shift at the dog shelter. I volunteered once a week and today was going to be my last shift.
Mother would be furious if she realized that I’d come here straight after having my nails done. However, she was satisfied that Jacob was guarding me for the afternoon, and she was too preoccupied with last-minute wedding details to take much notice of me apart from that.
When I arrived at the dog shelter, I headed straight to see Honey. She was a golden Labrador who had been at a shelter for a few months now. Her owner had died, leaving her without a home, so a neighbor had brought her into us.
Honey had been heartbroken after her owner’s death, and we had struggled to get her mood to pick up. People coming into the shelter looking for a dog to rehome tended to go for the friendlier dogs, so they had steered clear of Honey who hadn’t been willing to engage with anyone. I had been so nervous about her future and who would want her.
It had only been when a litter of abandoned puppies had come in that Honey had perked up. One of the puppies, Scamp, always wanted to snuggle up to Honey, and she had started mothering him and taking care of him. That had been what had finally brought her out of her depression—she had a purpose in life and someone to love again and to love her back.
After that, it had been decided that Honey and Scamp would only be rehomed as a pair. A young couple had now chosen them to be part of their family and they were picking up both dogs later today.
It was outcomes like this that had made me love my work at the shelter.
I loved animals and had even looked into college courses to become a veterinary nurse, but I always knew in the back of my mind that my father would never allow it—not when I was worth much more to him as a bargaining chip for a potential alliance.
At the end of my shift, I said goodbye to all the staff and dogs.
I was determined not to cry, but I wasn’t able to hold back the tears, especially when saying goodbye to Honey. I’d grown close to her and would miss not seeing her every shift. My work had been a little window of normalcy in an otherwise constrained life. I would miss it very much.
After one last wave at everyone, Jacob started up his car and saw me safely home. He always looked out for Jess and me, and we were grateful for that.
I couldn’t imagine what life was going to be like living in Chicago—without my siblings, away from all the people I loved.
***
On the morning of the wedding, I was woken up far too early by my mother who was bubbling over with excitement.
She ripped open my curtains. “What are you doing still asleep? It’s a wonderful sunny day, the perfect day for a wedding! It’s time to get up—there is so much to do to get you ready for your husband.”
I groaned and covered my eyes, whether in response to the bright sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows or because of the thought of what lay ahead today, I wasn’t quite sure.
My mother carried on with her babbling, oblivious to my subdued mood. “I said to your father how lucky we were to get the church booked for a Sunday. You know that is the day we Italians believe to be the luckiest in regard to prosperity and fertility.”
The Marchiano and Bonardi families were already prosperous and wealthy, thanks to their less-than-legal dealings. And given the absolute necessity for me to produce a male heir for my husband, no one had argued against having the wedding on a Sunday, and I had no doubt that my father’s large donation to the church had smoothed the way to a Sunday suddenly becoming available. Money could do anything in our world and if that didn’t work, then it was easy enough to resort to violence.
Soon everyone was fussing around me, and I was surrounded by a whirlwind consisting of my mother, sister, aunts, and cousins. They were all here to help me get ready, along with the attentions of a professional beautician and hairdresser.
I looked over to my cousin’s four-year-old daughter who would be my flower girl today. She was skipping around my bedroom, giggling her adorable laugh while playing hide and seek with Jessica, her playfulness lightening my mood.
My mother pushed me into the bathroom to take a bath and insisted on pouring an over-generous amount of scented oils into the water. “You should smell special for your husband on your wedding night—he will appreciate all the effort you make for him.” I highly doubted he’d even notice, just so long as he got what he wanted tonight.
After bathing, it was time for a leg, underarm, and bikini wax. “Men don’t have to go through this torture on their wedding day,” Jess commented, wincing while she watched the beautician wield her waxing strips.
“No, they just have to bleed on their initiation day when they become a Made Man,” replied my mother.
“And women are made to bleed on their wedding night,” my aunt chimed in, with a bitterness to her tone.
I knew that my face showed horror and embarrassment at that comment. Seeing this, my mother quickly steered the conversation toward the innocuous topic of the flower arrangements.
“Are you okay?” Jess whispered.
I nodded. “I’m as okay as I can be. Of course I know what’s expected of me tonight, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I doubt a man like Marco Marchiano will show me any kindness or mercy.”
