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“No, I don’t see anyone I recognize.” Mia continues in her slow, curious, tone. My lungs skip a breath. I shake my head at her dramatics. Of course she makes it all sound ominous. She’s not ready for all of this.
I am.
Even if it’s not asoladaothat I know.
I’ve worked on my Russian and Italian and even some Gaelic, but I’m not proficient. I’ve spent the most time on my Italian, since Luna’s cousin, Zeno, who we all call Z, has always sat near the top of my list. Even a match with him would be difficult though, beyond the language. I’ll be an outsider. I’ll have to exchange myfamiliafor hisfamiglia.
I step back to make sure the shoes aren’t too much with the dress. It will have to do for the man waiting downstairs.
A Made man.
Mafia men, Mob men, Bratva men, they’re all cut from a similar cloth. Powerful, serious, passionate, and duty-bound. No matter which faction, I’ll know how to speak his language. I hope for love, but I’ll be happy with a strong partnership. He’ll be a man of principles—albeit mafia principles—strength, courage, and loyalty.Papáwouldn’t settle for anything less. I’ll support my match, champion him, raise his sons and…satisfy his needs.
I gulp and hope Mia doesn’t notice.
I’ve heard the rumors of our men and their appetites. Two years ago, an engaged cousin mentioned she hoped her betrothed was a gentle lover, and all of the aunts just laughed at her. Not polite giggles, either. They guffawed at the thought of a mafia man with a “normal” sex life.
I clear my dry throat as I put my earrings on.
Okay, I definitely hope it’s someone I know.
Papáand I haven’t talked about specifics. Beyond telling me he and Tío Fausto have been taking calls, gushing proudly about what a catch I am and telling me not to worry, I know nothing. I have perfected myhappened to overhearskills, asAbuelacalls them. Which have revealed that for years now, the different syndicates across the United States have maintained peace. Thanks in large part, in Mamá’s opinion, to unbelievably strong women placed into complicated marriage arrangements over the last two decades.
I join Mia at the window. She’s right. Guards, drivers, and cars...
“So many cars…” I wonder aloud, my tone starting to match my sister’s. “Maybe Tío and Papá are holding more meetings after tea.”
“After tea?Tea, like you’re not about to walk down there, meet your future husband for the first time with your dad and your uncle and Mamá and me and our brothers and probably ten soldiers! Intimate little tea party, Ellie. Super quaint! Then it’ll probably be like two weeks and poof! You’ll be gone!”
“Mia,” I grab her hand. “It won’t be weeks and I’ll never be gone, okay? It’ll take months to plan the wedding and after that, at most, I’ll be a quick plane ride away. We’ll still FaceTime on your laptop just like we did when I lived on campus.” She inhales through still-flared nostrils. “I’m twenty-three. You’ll understand when your time comes. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Today is the start of my real adult life. No more waiting, training, wondering, hoping.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m happy, will you be happy for me, please?”
She rolls her eyes but fights a smile. “Maybe you’ll have to have areeeeallylong engagement.”
“You’re exhausting.” I smile and turn back to the mirror to add another layer of tinted gloss over my lips. I look at Mia in the reflection. “Aren’t you going to change, by the way?”
“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ like the teenager she is.
“Mamá will hate that.” I say, gesturing at her plain t-shirt and jeans.
She smiles wide. “I know.” Both of our heads snap to the door. “Speaking of…” Footsteps fall on the landing down from my door. “Last chance to try and run? I’ll run interference for you?”
“Stop it, Mia!” I whisper-yell at her, more because of nerves than actual annoyance.
“You look beautiful Ellie.” She takes my hand and her features actually soften to a genuine, supportive smile. “Let’s go meet your man.”
As I nod at her, Mamá bursts in. She whispers so many words so fast as she waves for us to follow her, I can’t catch them all. She is tense but happy. It makes my nerves compound. She’s met whoever waits for me on the veranda, and she’s not giving anything away.
I try to read her features as we make good time descending the stairs. In my mind I’m screaming at her to tell me who it is, or rather what he is.Am I walking towards an ancient Bratva don? A vicious Capo from New York? Z? What? Who?
But soon we’re down the double winding staircase, through the grand sitting room and stepping out the bright white French doors that lead to the back patio.
I inhale and look down so that I can’t frantically search the male faces waiting for us.Calm, Eleanna. You are a mafia princess, soon wife.I slow my last few footsteps right as Tío’s voice greets me.
“There she is, our radiant Eleanna! Come,sobrina, meet my good friend.”
I look up from below my lashes, keeping my gaze deliberate. I take him in, from the shiny black Italian leather shoes, to the long, built legs in navy trousers, a broad chest in a crisp white shirt and matching navy jacket with a pin. No tie, no stubble and no doubt, no question, no contest…the most striking man I’ve ever seen in my life. Dark brown hair like mine, but gray-blue eyes, a strong jaw, firm brow, lightly-tanned skin and gleaming white teeth in a wide, perfect smile.
This man is tall and intimidating.
