With his wife’s shrewish gaze on my back, I follow Nico down the hall where we may speak in private. “Happy Birthday, Cat. It’s from Dante and me both.” He places a long, slim jewelry box in my hands. I expect a bracelet or necklace but it’s heavier than that. When I open it, I see why.
“A knife?” I whisper.
It’s a jack knife, unfolded for this presentation on black velvet. The four-inch silver blade gleams brightly under the hall lights, and I feel strangely powerful when I pick it up. The handle is mother of pearl, and there’s an inscription –‘If you must bleed, make them bleed, too.’Fascination takes hold as I run my finger along the raised script.
For the past two years, Dante and Nico have both worked with me whenever they could. I can load and fire a gun. I know how to safely use a knife if I’m attacked. I could break free from a man’s hold… if he were an untrained weakling. None of it will truly protect me from a man like Alessio, but at least I don’t feel as hopeless now.
“I’m not going to be able to get you out of this as I once believed,” Nico says heavily, and I realize the guilt still weighs him down.
“It’s alright.”
“No, it isn’t. Never again will I act before thinking three steps ahead after the way you’re paying for my sins, sweet one,” he says, touching his chest where I know his Trio tattoo lies hidden beneath his shirt.
“Father was going to marry me to Sil, Jr. You may have saved me from a far worse fate.” I don’t know how Alessio will treat me, and I’m afraid, but I know his brother would’ve been a monster without a doubt, an inescapable one.
He gives a slow nod and kisses my forehead before stepping back, indicating we should rejoin the party. “Keep it somewhere close but out of sight.”
My bodyguard, Armando, steps into the hallway as we’re walking back. Nico bristles. No blood has been shed the past two years within the Trio, but I wouldn’t put it past these two. Armando is no mere soldier, according to Frankie. He’s Alessio’s closest friend and confidante. With the tension that rises between Nico and Armando, who knows what will happen when Nico and Alessio are in the same room. We’ll be lucky to escape without a bloodbath.
My father and brothers don’t like him being here, but Armando is charming at least, which is more than I can say of my husband-to-be. “There you are, Caterina. I would hate to report I failed in my duties and lost you so close to the big day.” The reminder of the approaching wedding isn’t welcome as his dark eyes flick down to the box in my hands. “A gift from your beloved?”
I purse my lips and clutch the box tightly. “This is a gift from my brothers.”And, your boss is not my beloved,I add silently to myself.
Alessio sends me expensive jewelry for every special occasion, and today was no different. It is a beautiful necklace, but I’m certain he didn’t pick it out. A courier delivered the fancy-wrapped piece, same as always. I’ve not seen my intended since the betrothal dinner. There is no love between us or even friendship, and I’m sure he’s very busy in Las Vegas with work. It’s likely he’s busy with other women, too.
Armando smirks as I keep hold of the box before following me back to the living room. He’s been my ever-present shadow even before the day Manfredi died in an automobile accident over a year ago, the poor old man, but I won’t give him an excuse to take my knife.
It’s mine, my final defender,I think, running my fingers over the inscription again that night as I lie in bed.
***
“I’m surprised your fiancé permits you to have Armando as a guard. My father only permitted older, married men to guard me before marriage. It’s a risk an important man doesn’t take.”
The friendly conversation at the bridal boutique between the women of our families comes to a halt with Margareta’s unexpected contribution. I didn’t think she’d choose to join us for my final dress fitting since she’s constantly reminding us how miserable she is carrying twins. I don’t blame her for that, and I feel sorry for her, but she’s so unpleasant.
Her smile is insincere when our eyes meet, and I don’t like the way she looks at Armando either. Dante has said Margareta plays games with my older brother, hoping to make him miserable enough to leave her. She only plays herself. No one in the Trio divorces. ‘Till death do us part, Caterina’echoes in my head.
My gaze sweeps over to my bodyguard who keeps staring at his phone. Without raising his eyes, he replies, “Alessio knows I will always respect what is his, Mrs. Morelli.”
I scowl at him, not liking the way I’m classified as a possession. As if he knows it, he tilts his head up and grins unrepentantly back at me.
But, his grin melts away the next moment when Gia steps out of her changing room. “I’m not so sure about this gown now,” she says, quietly.
I smother a gasp seeing the finger-shaped bruises on her upper arms where the sleeveless dress can’t hide them. They’re an angry dark purple, and I’m sure she didn’t have them when she came over for my birthday last week.
I look to Frankie, both of us in agony on her behalf but, for once, it’s my mother who surprises me with her compassion. “No, I don’t think that one suits you so well, my dear. Charmaine, would you fetch Mrs. Barzetti the other lavender gown to try? I think it would look beautiful on her.” The shop lady dashes off without a word, and Mother turns me toward the dressing room. “Come, Caterina, I’ll help you with the buttons.”
Despite all my trepidation over the wedding, there is one element I’ve enjoyed, silly as it may seem. Just as Alessio decreed, my gown was of my choosing, a soft white lace confection with full sleeves and a fuller skirt. It’s a fairytale princess dress, the sort I daydreamed of when I’d read my books. I love the way it makes me feel when I slip it on even if it’s a bit over-the-top. There are layers of petticoats and so many tiny buttons.
“This dress will drive your groom mad when it’s time for the bedding,” my mother chuckles under her breath. All my happiness evaporates in an instant, thinking of Alessio taking me to bed and Gia’s bruises. Mother feels me stiffen under her touch. “Forget I said that.”
“How can I? Oh, Mother...”
She sighs, pressing her forehead to mine. “Caterina, I can’t promise it will be easy but, if it gives you any hope, your father is a violent man, a very bad man, but he has never once raised his hand to me, not in twenty-nine years of marriage.”
Though he often hit my brothers when they were still boys and occasionally disciplined me that way, it’s true I’ve never seen him show my mother violence. But, I’ve seen her on those mornings when he didn’t return home the night before. I’ve smelled the exotic perfume his mistress prefers on his jacket more than once and overheard my mother’s broken sobs.
“There are many ways a husband can hurt a wife,” I murmur, making her sigh again. “Sorry. I don’t want to fight.”
