***
Glad to have the never-ending receiving line behind me, the real party has barely begun when I feel a different variety of discomfort building. “Where are you going?” Alessio asks sharply when I stand from the head table.
“To the ladies’ room. Do I need your permission for that?” I snap back, annoyed by the way Armando’s snickering from Alessio’s other side.
“You’ll need to wait. It’s time for our first dance as man and wife, my darling.”
I want to roll my eyes at him and his ‘my darling’ but I see he’s right. Everyone is staring at us expectantly so I allow him to guide me to the dancefloor as the crowd starts clinking their glasses, calling out,“Bacio! Bacio!”Sadists.
“I believe they want us to kiss again,” he taunts, turning me toward him.
I’ve barely drawn a proper breath in preparation – willhebitemethis time? – when Alessio presses his lips to mine and…oh. It’s not like the first one. It’s swift but soft. Just a touch of heat that leaves me wanting more. A sweetheart’s kiss. I can’t tell if he even realizes how it affected me as the band begins to play. It’s probably best he never realizes.
He pulls me close and we begin to sway. He moves more gracefully than expected. I suppose predators generally do. “Thinking of running?” he asks in a low, deadly voice.
I am now.But, I won’t admit that. “I’m thinking of peeing all over you if this song lasts too long.” Realizing I said that partaloud, I nearly clap my hand over my mouth - I should know better than to taunt this man - but he throws his head back and laughs, a deep, rumbling sound. The act seems to startle several of the guests. “They don’t know what to make of your laughter,” I comment.
“That’s because when the Reaper laughs, it’s generally a bad thing for whoever hears it,” he says, darkly.
That sounded like a threat, and I stiffen as the image of him torturing someone and laughing madly like the Joker comes to mind. But, his hand on my waist is warm and steady, and there’s part of me that might like to make him laugh again.
Once our dance ends, I have to dance with my father, then his father while Alessio dances with Bibi and then my mother. Then, other couples take to the floor. Carlo Vicini leads Sofia out, and they receive several nods of approval.
Just as I’m hoping to escape, Alessio’s cousin Rocco comes my way, intending to claim a dance. It’s tradition to dance with the groom’s male family members, and it would be rude for me to decline, but I do not want to dance with him. Frankie has shared too many disturbing tales about him. She should know having lived under the same roof with him the past three years.
“My pretty new cousin owes me a dance,” Rocco says, his unctuous tone and elevator eyes making my skin crawl.
“My wife is on her way to the ladies’ room.” Alessio has joined us unexpectedly. Hearing him call me ‘my wife’ is going to take getting used to. “She’ll be dancing with me again when she returns.” Annoyance burns in Rocco’s eyes, but he’s not stupid enough to argue with Alessio. “Go on before you have an accident in that dress,” he drawls, loud enough for Rocco to hear.
I flush scarlet and want to smack him, but he did save me from the unwanted dance, so I quickly nod, murmuring my thanks.
Alone at last, I find relief in the fancy powder room down the hall despite the incredible awkwardness of trying to pee with an abundance of lace and crinoline hoisted up around my ears. Frankie offered to help me with the dress, but I honestly just wanted five minutes to myself. I’ve had this dress on for three hours already, and there’s several more to go before Alessio’s expected to take it off of me. I may not be loving my wedding reception, but I’m not ready for that either.
I startle when the door opens, and two women walk in chatting, standing at the mirror to reapply makeup. I recognize one voice as Margareta’s, and the other is a friend of hers from New York. “I cannot wait to get out of this godforsaken desert,” Margareta complains. “Give me your wine. My husband is being an asshole about it as usual.”
“But, you’re pregnant.”
“So?”
The other woman says no more and, between the crack in the door, I can see Margareta drinking. I hold my breath and hope they won’t notice my white satin heels under the stall door. Does Margareta often drink or is it just the wedding?
“I’m surprised he made you come here since you’re getting closer to your time,” her friend comments.
“Oh, Nico tried to make me stay home, but I insisted on being here.”
“Why? Because of the Seconda?”
Ew, I don’t want to hear about this or think about it. Not when it comes to my brother. And, not when it comes to my husband either. For a large wedding like this, the Trio generally celebrates for two nights – a reception following the ceremony where the guests drink and dance well into the morning hours after the newlywed couple retires for the bedding, and then the Seconda Notte, or Second Night, where the men gather to discuss business without their wives or children present. It’sviewed as an opportunity for bonds to be renewed and lucrative new arrangements may be made.
But, there are also women there, the best prostitutes from the best houses who they may take their pleasure with once the business talk has ended. In the Trio, a man is only truly expected to be faithful to his oath and Capo. And, over the decades, it’s become a tradition for the newly married groom toparticipatein the fun.
“I don’t care what he does as far as that goes. I hate him with every fiber of my being. If my father hadn’t forced this marriage on me…”
I knew they were unhappy, but shehatesNico?
“So, why are you here?”
“Because I wanted the chance to see…” A loud noise outside the restroom interrupts. “What wasthat?”
