CHAPTER 1
Ravenna
“Where is your sister?” Mother paces the church’s small, dank bridal preparation room. Her long black mourning dress sweeps the floor. “I knew I shouldn’t have let her run that last minute errand this afternoon. She’s made a run for it. I can’t believe she’d do something like that to us. Your father will be furious.” She nervously wrings her hands.
I sit on the sofa, dressed in black to mourn my dead brother. Today I’m also prepared to lose my twin sister when she marries Cian O’Rourke, brutal leader of the Irish mob—the Gaelic Devils—and the man who murdered our brother Matteo.
Can I blame her for running? Not at all.
Do her actions totally screw us over? Yep.
Without Elena here to fulfill the terms of this arranged marriage, we’ll once again be at war with O’Rourke and his clan of cutthroat Irishmen. This wedding is our one chance at lasting peace. A deal sealed in marriage.
“Are you listening to me, Ravenna?” Mother scowls in my direction. “Call your sister again and tell her if she doesn’t show up I’ll toss her in a convent and throw away the key.”
I do as I’m told, not bothering to tell Mama that Elena would prefer a convent to marrying the man everyone callsThe Beast. I don’t want to even think about how he came by that nickname.
Elena’s phone goes straight to voicemail, again. I relay the message, then pocket my phone. The clock on the wall shows a quarter to three. We have fifteen minutes before a Pontrelli woman has to walk down that aisle and seal this deal—or else we all face the consequences.
I am, quite literally, the only option. Is it a crazy idea? Hell yes it is. Not to mention dangerous. But I should have been the one chosen for this arranged marriage in the first place. I’m not sure why my parents insisted they put this on Elena’s shoulders, other than she’s technically the older twin.
Even so, she’s always been the soft spoken one, who hates conflict. While I’m…the opposite. I might just survive being thrown to the Irish wolves. She wouldn’t.
I stand up and turn toward Mother. “We have no other choice, it has to be me who walks down that aisle. Father will be in a rage if this peace deal falls through.” I inwardly shudder at how he’d react. His wrath could very well be worse than anything the Irish might dish out.
Mother frowns. “You’re right, but we can’t tell O’Rourke he’ll be taking a different bride. This is the man who postponed the wedding when we had to switch venues because the church flooded. He suspected a trap. He’s a very suspicious man. How do you think he’ll react when we promised him Elena and he gets you instead?”
“Then we don’t tell him. They never met face-to-face, so he won’t know the difference.” Plus, we’re identical twins, a lot of people find it challenging to tell us apart until they get to know us.
The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. “We don’t tell anyone. I’ll walk down that aisle and marry him as ElenaPontrelli. Once he figures out who I really am, it’ll be too late. Not that it matters which sister he gets, all he’s looking for is the turf, and peace, he’ll gain by joining with our family.”
“That’s true.” Mother mulls over my idea. “Your father can’t tell you girls apart anyway, so until, and if, your sister resurfaces, our secret will be safe. However, this can’t be temporary. A man like O’Rourke will kill you if he finds out we did a bait and switch. He can never learn your true identity.”
I swallow thickly. “Then from this day forth, I am Elena Pontrelli.” Will it be easy? No. I’ll have to act more like Elena around my friends and family to pull this off. Ugh, this is a mess, but we’ll figure it out. I’ll worry about the future later. My sister has to resurface, because I can’t imagine life without her.
Mother glances toward the door. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have much time.”
“Then we have to hurry.” I slip off my black dress and don the wedding gown that was designed for Elena. Luckily our measurements are close enough that it fits well. I slip into her shoes, put on her veil, and then I’m finally transformed… into my sister. And a bride—the wrong bride.
The clock strikes three. It’s time.
I release a slow exhale, my hands shake. I have no idea who I’m going to find standing at the altar, but whoever he is, he’s some version of liberation from my family. For a chance at freedom, I’ll marry an old man, an ugly man, just please, dear God, may he not be cruel to his wife. That is my single wish.
Give me a kind husband.
My father appears and I draw myself up, standing tall, then remember how Elena would act, and round my shoulders. I shrink into myself and avert my gaze, acting shy and compliant.
“Where’s Ravenna?” he demands, glancing around the small room.
“She wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home in the car,” Mother lies to him. A bold act, coming from her. But she lost her only son because of this war, I know how badly she wants to see the violence end.
My stomach flips. This is the beginning of a life-long charade. Am I really going through with this?
“It doesn’t matter. We don’t really need her here.” He turns to me. “Pull down your veil, he doesn’t get to see you until you belong to him.”
I lower the veil over my face, obscuring my features from view.
Until I belong to him…It has to be better than belonging to you, Papa.
