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He sticks out his hand to me. I hesitate, gritting my teeth. Maria narrows her eyes at me, so I force myself to clasp his hand, tighter than he does mine.
“How are you coping?”His eyes are hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses.
“Fucking fine,” I say through my teeth, holding onto the little ounce of self-restraint I have. The gun in my waistband is itching to be pulled out and pressed into his forehead.
“Are you going to behave today, Luca? My father is very concerned that your intentions are not sincere,” Antonio says.
I’m seething. Imagining wedging my bullet into his brain and it splattering across the stones beneath our feet.
Where is the old asshole, anyway?
“He’s made his point, loud and clear. Don’t worry.”I can still feel my mom’s warm heart against my fingers.
I turn on my heel and head to the church.
“You have plenty more family members to pick from, Luca. Quite the family man, aren’t you? Mrs. Russo was us being kind to you. Little Darcy, however, now that’s a different story.”His smooth Italian accent hits like a brick.
I stop, bile rising up my throat at Darcy’s mention. My two-year-old niece. I wish I had another drink this morning. Rubbing my jaw, I try to relieve some tension.
I turn and hold my hand out, nodding to Maria. She smiles up at her brother, like the cat who got the canary, and saunters over to me, lacing her fingers through mine.
“Good choice. We aren’t joking.”Flashing me an exaggerated smile, she swings her hips next to me.
I take a step into the church, the weight of the world on my shoulders nearly crippling me.I look up at the array of colors shining through the stained glass window.
The room is filled to the brim with guests, white roses lining the ends of each aisle. A gold cross sits at the head of the church, and I laugh to myself.
If there is a fucking god, he hates my guts.
With what I have planned, I won’t be getting welcomed into heaven anytime soon.
I have a one-way ticket to hell.
CHAPTERSEVENTY-ONE
rosa
Ihear a click and face the door.
“It’s time to go, Rosa.” I turn to face the man standing there. He’s similar looking to Dante with jet black hair, just a smaller build.
I clutch hold of my bouquet as if it will offer me some sort of protection. My feet are planted in the spot.
Tossing the shawl onto the chair, the man’s eyes go wide as he spots the marks scattered on my arms.
“Put that back on,” he says gruffly.
I shake my head. “It will ruin my dress. Dante won’t want that. He picked this out for me. He put these marks here, it must mean he wants me to show them off.”
He narrows his eyes. “Fine, just pull your hair over or something. We can’t have the priest seeing these.”
I do as he says, letting my curls fall over my shoulders and down my arms.
He holds open the door, his suit opens, and I catch the silver glimmer from his gun and my mouth goes dry.
Giving me a knowing glare, he says, “Move.”
I shuffle past him, the cold air beating against my skin. The parking lot is nearly empty. I don’t know why I expected Luca to bring an army. It was the hope I was clutching on to. Disappointment consumes me. Maybe I was wrong. I’m not hisfamily.He made clear he would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way.
