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“He’s not the only one watching you. I’m here.”
My mom pounded again as I rushed to the balcony. “What do you mean, you’re here? Where?”
“Do you really think I’d miss your wedding? He’s a dick, but you love him. If you can’t kill him, get rid of the chick across the hall. Show him how you’ll handle his side pieces.”
“I can’t kill her.”
“Allegra!”
“Coming,” I hollered to my mom. “I have to go,” I hissed into the phone.
“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding. You should have it outside. If you decide you’d rather be a widow, text me.”
The call disconnected. As the phone powered down, I rushed into the bathroom, opened the linen closet, tucked it into my box of tampons, and pushed it to the rear of the shelf.
I dashed back into the bedroom and opened the door. “Sorry.”
“Why did you lock it? And who were you talking to?”
I closed the door behind her. “I was in the bathroom. I told you my stomach is upset. It’s nerves.”
My mom handed me a banana. “Marco suggested this if you’re hungry.”
I stared at it. Damn him. This was perverse torture. I laughed, a maniacal sound as more tears welled in my eyes. This was why I couldn’t hate him. But then I remembered he’d been with Francesca, and I couldn’t love him either.
Finally, I had my dress on. No flowers, no special song, no intimate moments to cherish. I ran my fingers over the sheer lace of my veil. Then I dropped it to the floor. I didn’t need a symbol of purity.
I wore a blood-red stone on my finger, and the dress left nothing of my figure to the imagination. I split the tulle and adjusted the blade from Knox strapped to my thigh.
“What are you doing?”
I lifted my head at my mother’s shocked gasp. “I’m a mafia wife.” I fluffed the tulle. “This isn’t a wedding. It’s executing an agreement.” And I was going to remind my husband of his vows. “I’m ready.”
“You aren’t wearing shoes.” My mom held her hand to her heart.
“No one is going to be looking at my feet.” My ankle was still too tender for heels. I opened the door and strode down the hall.
“Your veil.” Mom snatched it off the ground and rushed to catch up to me. “Wait for your father. He wants to walk you down the aisle.”
“No. He’s not giving me away. I was sold for power and soldiers.”
“You foolish girl.” She grabbed my arm and squeezed. “His mistress is sipping champagne, greeting your guests, and sparkling like a Bruno diamond.” Her gaze raked down my body. “This dress is indecent. Mafia men don’t share. Every man in this house is going to see your body.”
I ran my hand along the bodice. The lace and fabric played peekaboo with flesh. I’d chosen the dress because the heat of Marco’s eyes made me melt. With every touch, I’d submitted to his fierce, possessive claim over me.
Now his whore was in the room across from mine, and I was a prisoner in my home.
I paused at the stairs. “Where are the vows being said?”
“Father Josue is waiting with your guests in the reception room.”
“Please ask everyone to gather outside near the pool. Out in the open.”
“Everyone is already waiting.”
“I’m not asking.” My voice rose. “Look at me, mother.” Tears filled my eyes again. “Stop criticizing me. Stop arguing with me. Stop pretending that either one of us has a damn thing to say about today.”
I grabbed the veil and tossed it over the banister. The white gossamer lace floated to the floor below.
