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“I’d forgotten you played,” she announces when I stop abruptly in the middle of the composition.
I stretch my fingers again, anxious. “It’s been a while. The last time was with your mother, I think.” Maybe I shouldn’t mention Caterina. It brings to light the nature of our relationship: two souls brought together by chance and unlikely circumstance.
Christine closes the door behind her, twisting the deadbolt to lock us away from the outside world. “Mom tried to teach me when I was younger, but I was rubbish. I didn’t have the patience to learn and couldn’t appreciate my feeble attempts at playing. I only liked the piano when she played it.”
Knowing Caterina, she wouldn’t have gotten upset if her daughter chose to walk away from learning an instrument. My father beat me once because I said I didn’t want to learn how to playThe Nutcracker Marchfor his Christmas Eve festivities. We grew up very different than one another, which is what makes being together all that more enjoyable.
The family we build together will be a reflection of hers, not mine. Our children will have the privilege of growing up withtwo devoted parents who will love them unconditionally. We won’t impose strict rules or expectations on our kids, except for the annual tradition of taking cringe-worthy family photos at Christmas in matching flannel pajamas. Our home will be filled with warmth and love, a safe haven for our family to grow and thrive in.
“Sit,” I pat the bench beside me. “We should talk.”
She sets her bag down at the entrance and walks over, nestling beside me on the piano bench. “If you’re going to try and teach me piano, you’d have better luck teaching a fish to ride a bike. I can’t do anything with my hands.”
Caterina could knit and sew; Christine has never been the crafting type. But it isn’t fair to compare the two of them. I was forced to marry Caterina to appease my family; I want to be with Christine because she makes me feel like anything is possible.
“I’m not much of a bicyclist myself, so maybe you can just settle for listening,” I offer with a teasing grin.
She leans her head on my shoulder in a moment of unexpected tenderness. “I’d love to.”
In the last few weeks, Dante and I have talked through a dozen different ways to save her from marrying Rocco Castiglione. I’m still in favor of killing Rocco or Giovanni, but my brother said both ideas would lead to a war that the Terlizzi family isn’t ready for.
My fingers gracefully glide over the smooth ebony and ivory keys, each note of theMoonlight Sonatafilling the room with its melancholy melody as I pick up where I left off. “I think we should get married.”
Christine’s body stiffens beside mine, but she doesn’t outright reject the suggestion. “What if Giovanni sends Marco to kill you?”
I shrug my shoulders, continuing along in the composition. I make a mistake that my father would have screamed at me for making two decades ago, but Christine doesn’t even notice.
“We’re going to make Giovanni an offer, kind of like a dowry,” I explain. “Dante thinks $25,000 isn’t enough to sway Gio, and I think he’s right. But we’re going to make him an offer and if he says no, we will use that money to throw the biggest wedding this side of the Missouri state line.”
A small, subtle smile twitches on her lips; I can feel the corners of her mouth tugging upwards against my shoulder. “An extravagant wedding is going to save you from Giovanni trying to kill you?”
“It’ll be insurance, yes,” I explain. “The larger the wedding, the harder it’ll be for your uncles to get away with murder. If we can give the Midwest families a show, killing me will backfire on Giovanni. They’ll demand retribution for my death, and it’ll be the end of the Lucatellos.”
The tension in her body pulls as tight as a garrote around the neck of our enemies. Dante warned me that the hardest part would be convincing Christine to go along with the plan because she values her independence.
“Can I keep going to university?” She asks quietly.
I stop playing mid-key, letting the tune hang in the air. “Of course, you can. Why wouldn’t you?”
Christine takes her head off my shoulder but refuses to look at me. Instead, she taps a finger on the keys before her, testing the notes. The piano bench creaks beneath her weight as she shifts slightly, deep in concentration. “Giovanni said when I marry Rocco, I have to move to Kansas City, and I can’t go back to college.”
“What?” I demand sharply. “When did he say this? When have you been talking to him?”
She doesn’t raise her gaze to meet mine. “Just before Finals week. He was going to be in town, so I asked him to meet for lunch.”
My knuckles turn white as I ball my hands into tight fists, my nails digging into the flesh of my palms. The urge to slam them down onto the keys in frustration is almost overwhelming, but I force myself to stay still.
“H-he said that we could do whatever we wanted in the meantime. We could be together,” she whispers, desperation in her voice. “We could have the next few months. You’ll get bored of me, anyway. By the time June rolls around, you’ll be glad Rocco is around to take me off your hands. Then,” she pauses. Christine clears her throat of the thick emotion building up. “Then I wouldn’t have to worry about becoming a widow at 19. I don’t want my uncles to hurt you, Nic. I’ll trade my freedom for your life if that’s what Giovanni wants.”
The vulnerability in her voice cracks my heart wide open. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer, forcing her onto my lap, and it still doesn’t feel close enough. “Listen to me,dolcezza,” my voice a raw whisper, “I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you trade your freedom for mine. You’re not a pawn intheir twisted game. You are my heart and my soul, and I won’t let them take you away from me.”
She stiffens in my grasp, and I continue. “I will never get bored of you, Christine. You are everything to me. More than the beats in my heart, more than the blood in my veins. I can’t—no, I won’t—imagine a life without you.”
My hands move to cradle her face, wiping away the tears that have begun to fall down her cheeks. “I will not let you become a sacrifice. Not for me, not for anyone. I’ll be damned before I let Giovanni or anyone else dictate our fate. I choose you, and I choose us. No matter the consequences.”
In a moment of recklessness, I seize her lips with an urgency that mirrors the intensity of my emotions. The kiss is not a tender promise; it’s a fervent affirmation of my love for her. Our mouths meld together, tongues dancing in a fiery embrace that conveys my hunger for her. It’s a desperate exchange, a clash of passion that leaves no room for uncertainty. When we part, breathless and entwined, I rest my forehead against hers, and our rapid breaths mingle in the sensually charged air.
“We’re in this together. I will find a way to rewrite our destiny and defy the fate your uncle seeks to impose upon us. I promise.”
