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I heard the door click shut and then the sound of a lock turning. This was going to be my prison cell.
At first, I could only stand with my arms wrapped around myself, feeling my cold fingertips against my skin and shaking uncontrollably. Being locked in this room—in his bedroom—brought home to me that I was now his captive.
I was still feeling nauseous and my brain felt foggy, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to the drug he injected me with or the terror I was feeling. Whatever the cause, I felt terrible. I tried to swallow down my panic, but it kept trying to take over my whole mind and body, wrapping its icy tentacles around my throat, making it feel like I couldn’t breathe.
After attempting to calm myself for a few minutes, I got up and walked around the bedroom. I looked around myself and attempted to take in my surroundings. The room had been furnished in a masculine style and there was little to soften the room’s hard feel. I tried to look around, but my eyes kept returning to the large bed.
Someone obviously slept in this bed. The nightstand on one side of it held a half-drunk bottle of water and a phone charger. The room had a hint of musk and lemongrass, just like the cologne Marco had worn today.
This was obviously his bedroom. And this was where I would be expected to sleep now. And do other things.
My wedding night was always going to be difficult, but now I was being held prisoner by a man who I hadn’t even married.
I sat on the bed. My body ached with tiredness and my head was thumping. My eyes felt gritty from my earlier tears and my current exhaustion. I longed to put my head down on the pillow and fall into a deep sleep, but I knew that he wouldn’t let me do that, not before he had claimed me.
I decided to distract myself and explore more before he came back. I went through a door which led me into an adjoining bathroom. I washed my hands and face in the hope that it might help clear my mind. The bathroom was luxurious, with a marble stone floor, dual vanities, a large walk-in shower and a huge bathtub. I looked around me, trying to take in my new cage and wondering if he was expecting me to make myself pretty for our wedding night.
I looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror. My eyes looked huge in my face and my skin was unnaturally pale.
I wandered back into the bedroom and decided to try the windows. But they were also locked. There was no way out.
MARCO
I headed back downstairs to check on my siblings. Alessio and Camillo were old enough and ugly enough to look after themselves. I wanted to make sure that Danio and Debi were okay though.
“Come on, shortcake, it’s time for bed,” I said to Debi, putting my arm around her.
“Go get ready and I’ll be up soon to tuck you in.” I had a few things to discuss first with Alessio.
We needed to get the security footage from the church to see exactly what had happened. No self-respecting church frequented by the Mafia went without CCTV these days.
Tonight, I also needed to visit in person the families of my dead soldiers. It was the last thing I felt like doing, but they deserved to hear it from me. That was my duty as Capo.
I recited the words every Made Man said upon a death: “Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori, adesso e nell’ora della nostra morte.” The meaning of those words was always so poignant: ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.’
The prayer was said as much for myself as for my dead soldiers.
Once I was done talking with Alessio, I went up to check on Debi. She was already asleep. I pulled the comforter up around her and kissed her gently on her forehead. I was livid at the Società for what they had made my little sister witness today. I took one last look at her and then headed out to visit the families of the dead soldiers.
JULIANA
After looking around the bedroom, I sank down into a velvet armchair that stood in front of the windows. My mind wouldn’t stop racing as I tried to comprehend what had happened today and what would happen tonight.
I huddled into the armchair and wrapped my arms around myself. I suddenly felt cold and had goosebumps on my arms. I didn’t know if it was because it was actually cold in here or if it was because of what would happen tonight in this room.
I could hardly keep awake and I longed to just curl up and sleep. But I knew that I needed to stay awake, to be prepared for when he returned.
I had always known that my marriage would be arranged and that it would be to a Made Man. It was forbidden to marry outsiders. In our world we didn’t marry for love—we married according to our family’s tactical objectives.
I hadn’t expected a knight in shining armor to sweep me off my feet. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I would be kidnapped on my wedding day by a heartless maniac.
All the stories I had heard while growing up about the horrifying brutality of the Fratellanza, ordered or carried out by Marco Marchiano, kept racing through my mind.
While we could never talk about such matters in front of outsiders, Mafia families liked nothing more than to gossip about these things among themselves. Dear Lord, would I be the next topic of gossip discussed by the wives of the Società Mafia during one of their coffee mornings back in L.A.? Would my name be mentioned in dramatic whispers, the wives pretending to be horrified and disgusted but at the same time secretly delighting in the new gossip they could speculate about and spread?
No matter how much I willed my brain to stop these thoughts, my mind kept spinning out of control, feeling like it was taking my sanity with it.
***
