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Leave it to Concetta Cavallaro to be upset that my almost kidnapping has interfered with the wedding reception she planned for months.
We’re in the cathedral’s choir room. A few moments ago, Benny grabbed my hand and brought me inside, only allowing my father, mother, and Cristian to join us. Tommaso attempted to come, but Benny slammed the door in his face. My father’s face was red. No doubt, he was ready to argue, but he stopped when he realized Tommaso hadn’t attempted to fight Benny’s dismissal.
Tommaso sure is backing down from Benny.
Even in my father’s presence.
“It’s not like anyone from our families died,” my mother continues her argument, hell-bent on making this party happen. “We have no one to mourn.”
One thing this life does is smear nonchalance over death.
The longer we’re in, the more empathy we lose.
She has a point though.
But I don’t back her up since I’d rather not have the reception. I shift from one foot to the other, staring at the ripped skirt of my bloody dress while masking the vulnerability percolating through me. I rub at my body in all the places the man touched me. I feel exploited, a person punished for someone else’s wrongdoings. I haven’t done anything to piss off a group of men with guns. It was those around me, and I was the easy target to seek revenge on them.
Years ago, my father told me it isn’t a rarity for men to target family members to get revenge. I’ve heard stories where they make a man watch as they kill his family, saving him for last. The more suffering, the better. But today really punched reality in my face.
I’d been so nervous about the wedding, but there’d been a sense of ease when we kissed.
Maybe we could do this marriage thing without killing each other. But that positivity died at the sound of gunshots.
Benny and I marrying will always be a bad idea.
“I’m taking Neomi to the mansion,” Benny tells the room before glancing at my mother. “You can hold the reception dinner there … for you and the girls.” His tone is all business as he turns his attention to my father. “Why would someone want to kidnap Neomi?”
My throat thickens, and I desperately want to say,because of one of you.
“No idea.” My father runs a hand over his sweaty face. “Both of us have enemies in this city.”
I shiver, hugging myself, and Benny removes his blazer before draping it over my shoulders.
For a man who didn’t want to marry me, he’s sure worried about my safety.
And for a woman who didn’t want to marry him, I sure ran straight into his arms.
Benny stands tall, staring harshly at my father, as if he wants to read any lies on his face. My father’s face hardens—a dare that he won’t find what he wants.
No one will own up to anything until they know all the details.
“Can we go?” I ask. “I’d like to change out of this dress and”—I run a hand through my ratty hair, thickened with blood and brain matter—“shower this off me.”
Benny ushers me through the back exit and helps me into the passenger seat of his Range Rover. He doesn’t allow anyone else to ride with us.
As he drives, I want to shrivel into the heated leather seat and vanish. This is exactly what I didn’t want to be—helpless in front of Benny.
I jerk on my seat belt. One of Benny’s men drives in front of us, and three more tail the SUV.
“Why didn’t you let them take me? Kill me?” I ask, my throat raspy. “It would’ve solved our ‘being married to each other’ problem,” I say with air quotes.
“Our problem?” He keeps his attention on the road. “Had he killed you, it would’ve solved mine, absolutely. But I wouldn’t consider you dying or kidnapped a solution toyours. I hardly think marrying me would be worse than whatever they had planned to do with you.”
Fair point.
“Now, I need answers from you,” he adds.
“What do you mean?”
