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So why do I feel like a trapped animal?
Fighting the ringing in my ears, I focus on not panicking as Lucas says the vows and slides the platinum wedding ring onto my finger, cracking all the right jokes and stroking all the right egos as he does. It’s not real. None of it is. It’s a political show; it’s not for me. Hell, he barely even looks my way as he promises to comfort me, to love and to hold me, blah, blah, blah, his eyes glued to the power players in the audience. And the worst part is? I do the exact same thing. I hardly even hear myself as I recite the vows.
“And do you, Vivian Dalton, take Lucas Emmerico as your lawful wedded husband?” the officiant asks.
My breath hitches in my throat, my eyes sweeping out across the sea of guests, all waiting on me. The Emmerico family stares from one side of the aisle, the Dalton family from the other, all of them armed to the teeth and all of them with their eyes on me. From her place in the front row, Callie gives me an encouraging nod, but as my eyes slide around the guests once more, I see a familiar face. Familiar lips.
Someone clears their throat and I nearly jump. I swallow as I look back at my soon to be husband, and then croak out, “I do.”
The officiant nods. “And do you, Lucas Emmerico, take Vivian Dalton as your lawful wedded wife?”
“I do,” Lucas says automatically.
“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant proclaims. “You may kiss the bride.”
Lucas’s movements are wooden as he leans forward, puts his hands on my waist, and presses his lips to mine for the briefest of seconds. It’s not a real kiss, and both of us know it. He pulls away just as quickly, tugging me roughly against his side and raising a hand to the crowd, which has erupted into applause and cheers. And just like that, it’s official: I’m married to Lucas Emmerico.
“I guess that’s it,” Lucas mutters, not looking my way. “Let’s go.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s.”
…
The reception is being held at the Emmerico family estate, a sprawling complex owned by Lucas’s father and designed to be impenetrable. Inside, a staff of waiters in black suits serve a buffet of canapés and wine, and on the dance floor, a DJ is playing a sultry waltz. There are dozens of people milling around, but I don’t know most of them, and by the hundredth “Thank you so much for coming,” I’m ready to pull my hair out.
Lucas separates from me almost immediately to visit with the guests, and while he’s busy chatting up the businessmen, politicians and other Mafiosi that have flown over from Europe and the Middle East to mingle, I’m on my own. Callie is out in the garden, getting some air, so I’m left to find my way to my mom and Violet, who are standing off to one side by the bar.
“How do you feel, honey?” Mom asks. She’s a small woman, her auburn hair graying a little like my father’s, but there’s authority in her demeanor, and she’s dressed to the nines, as always.
“Honestly?” I reply. “I’m totally overwhelmed.”
Mom gives me a sympathetic nod. “For what it’s worth, honey, it gets easier,” she tells me. “Your father and I—”
“You were an arranged marriage, but you learned to love each other,” I reply, a little facetiously. “Tale as old as time, right?” My tone is as dry as paper, but only because it’s either crack jokes or burst into tears.
Violet shoots me a withering look. “Try not to sound too excited, sis. You’re lucky to be getting a place so close to the top of this new hierarchy. Not to mention your new beau.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Successful, confident, gorgeous...”
“Yeah, and I just married him in a freaking gazebo,” I retort. “Why the hell am I even here?”
“Because you can’t get with the program to save your life,” Violet says, and there’s both resentment and a hint of admiration in her voice. “The whole ‘problem child’ thing will only get you so far, Vivian.” That hits harder than she probably meant it to, because she flushes bright red. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You’re just saying what we’re all thinking.” If I had my shit together, Violet would be the one in the white dress today, not me. “Cheaper way to get me out of your hair than shipping me off to Switzerland, right, Mom?”
“Hey.” Mom glances at me. “Knock it off, both of you. This is bigger than all of us. You girls know that.”
I grimace. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“Besides,” Mom continues, turning to Violet, “it won’t be long before your father and I find you a suitable match too. An alliance that will benefit the family as much as this one.”
That seems to cheer my sister up, because she shoots me a smile, even with her arms folded over her chest. “Just try not to fuck it up in the meantime, yeah?”
“No promises,” I reply with a grin.
“Lucas is important to the business,” Mom says. “He’ll take good care of you, Vivian. He has a strong place in the community. And he knows how to—
But then she stops short, cutting herself off and clearing her throat.
I frown, not liking the sudden tension in the air. “What?” I ask. “Mom, what is it?”
