“Don’t worry, cousin. Our enemies wouldn’t dare try anything tonight. Extra guards were posted at the warehouses. And there’s no way anyone will get in here to disrupt your wedding.” I nodded in response, whilst continuing my study of the room.
Music is playing in the background. Several people are on the dance floor swaying to the music. While others are in groups at various tables in conversation, or enjoying the wedding cake we cut before Elle excused herself. Serafina accompanied her.
As I scan the room, unease coils in my chest— Catalina and her friends are nowhere to be seen. I keep remembering the way she looked at Elle earlier. Without a word, I step into the corridor that leads to the bathroom. “Dominic, where are you going?” Dante calls after me. “I need to find Elle. She has been gone too long.”
Dante falls into step with me, his voice edged with concern. “Do you think something has happened to her in the bathroom?” We draw nearer to the room and the door swings open. Catalina emerges with Ehlena and Sarah by her side. They look smug, laughing and giggling like hyenas who had just circled their prey.
When they spot Dante and I, they fall silent. Smiles disappear as they look at each other nervously. Guilt written on their faces. The women are behaving like children, who’dbeen caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The knot in my stomach tightens, my unease justified.
“Oh! hmm, hello Don Vit… Vitelli.” Catalina stutters as I stare at her wordlessly, giving her the look that I reserve for my enemies. Getting the message, the three scurry past us, almost stumbling over each other to get back into the ballroom.
It was then that the bathroom door opened. This time revealing Serafina and Elle. Serafina has a reassuring arm on Elle’s back. She is looking at her with concern and barely controlled anger. Elle's eyes are puffy. Clearly, she’s been crying. What the hell. “Elle!” She looks surprised when she hears my voice, valiantly trying to compose herself. Pretending that everything is okay. Putting on a fake smile.
“Oh! Dominic, I’m sorry we took longer than planned. Is it time for our dance?” she rushed towards me, breathless. I brush my fingers against her cheek, catching a trace of tears. “You’ve been crying. Tell me what’s wrong?” “It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” She says, her voice trembling. “Elle, don’t lie to me.” I tilt her chin gently upward, so she is unable to avoid my gaze—unwilling to let her hide from me.
“I saw Catalina leaving the bathroom, did she say something to you?” She remains stubbornly tight-lipped. Turning my head, I make eye contact with Serafina. Lifting an eyebrow in question. She begins to eagerly disclose what had transpired in the bathroom.
“Catalina was waiting to ambush Elle the moment she stepped out of the stall,” Serafina spat. “She called her a husband-stealer and accused her of taking away her man.
“Then she claimed you two were engaged—that you were settling for ‘a nobody’ when you could have a mafia princess like her.’ the more I hear the more enraged I become.
“She said she was groomed for this life, and that the only reason you married Elle was because she saved your life.”
By the time Serafina finished recounting what she had the nerve to say to my wife, my anger was barely contained. Elle tried to pull away, tears streaming down her cheeks. I wiped them gently with my handkerchief and kissed her forehead. No one will ever disrespect my woman—not while I draw breath.
Dante and Serafina look on, clearly angry with what has transpired. “Dante, make sure Catalina and her friends are still in the ballroom. I need to demonstrate what happens when my wife is disrespected.” Dante and Serafina return to the ballroom leaving us alone in the corridor. “Dominic, please don’t.” She protests as I slide my hands into hers, leading her back to our guests.
“Hush, trust me, it’s going to be okay.” A quick kiss silences Elle. She looks as though she’s afraid that I’m going to pop someone. She’ll learn that disrespect towards my wife will not go unpunished. An example from the onset needs to be made. Violence towards women is not condoned. But there are other more effective ways to deal with them.
When we re-enter the ballroom, there is a commotion at the front of the hall. Three of my guards have Catalina and her two friends assembled there. They attempt to break free but it's no use. Brio is protesting loudly that his precious daughter should be left alone.
Everyone in the room is looking on, whispering among themselves. The crowd allows us to make our way to the front of the room, forming a path—like when Moses parted the red sea.
Dominic barely has time to react before Brio’s voice thunders across the room. “Dominic, what’s the meaning of this? Why have these fools brought my daughter here?” His voice slurred. Brio is flushed crimson red, veins are popping out on his forehead. He’s sweating profusely. The sour stench of liquor he’d over indulge in emanates off him. He looks like he’s about to pop an aneurysm. His fist clenches and body lurches—Dante stepsforward to grip Brio’s arm before he can reach his daughter. Tension crackles like a storm in the room.
My arms are around Elle: anchoring her body next to mine, when we stop in the front of the crowd. She’s holding her head high and her shoulders are pulled back in defiance.That’s my girl. “Brio, you should ask your daughter what she has done to deserve this treatment.”
Before he could say a word, the viper began to spew her nonsense. Her voice is shrill and venomous.
“It’s this bitch’s fault! I should have been the one to marry Don Vitelli. She’s an outsider who has trapped Dominic into marriage. A whore!” Spittle escapes as she rages.
Gasps ripple through the crowd, the sound as sharp as breaking glass. Her face is twisted with such hatred it warps her beauty into something grotesque.
The onlookers stare, stunned, but I barely see them. My jaw tightens. The weight of my vow is pressing down on me. My promise to never raise a hand against a woman—at this moment, I regret it more than ever.
Brio appears to be in shock. His wife is clinging to his arm, looking as though she is about to faint. “Brio, was there ever a marriage agreement between your daughter and me?”
“No.” He is quick to reply. “When you approached me with such a proposal, what did I say?” He now looks uncomfortable. “That you had no intention of ever marrying,” he admits reluctantly.
“What else did I say, Brio?” When he doesn’t reply, I continue. “Didn’t I make it clear, that if perchance I changed my mind about marriage, that Catalina would be the last woman I would marry? I have no intention of shackling myself to such a selfish bitch. Only a woman like Elle, could ever make me change my mind about marriage. Catalina would never be the kind ofwoman that Elle is.” I remind him. His face is twisted with rage and humiliation.
“Your daughter cornered my wife in her own home with her friends earlier. Disrespecting her. That is something I will not tolerate. She, and these sheep, who follow her around are no longer welcome in my home. They are not to attend any Family event at which my wife and I are present. Please get them out of here, so we can get on with our first dance as husband and wife.” I tell my men who move to carry out my request.
The band begins playing again at my signal. I led Elle towards the dance floor. Before I know what’s happening, there’s a loud screech. “You bitch!” Catalina breaks free of Antonio’s grip as she is dragged past us. She grasps onto Elle’s arm, in an attempt to pull her back. My wife grabs the bitch’s wrist, bending it backwards with her left hand. She then swings her right fist forcefully up, making contact with Catalina’s face.
There’s a crunching sound, as her nose breaks. “Don’t touch me, you bitch.” Elle snares at her. Catalina screeches in pain falling to her knees, as Elle continues to hold her hand, wrist twisted back painfully. Her other hand, reaching for her nose as blood seeps through her fingers. Everyone looks on in shock. “What a right hook!” I hear Dante say with admiration. Ignoring him I coax Elle to let go of Catalina. Who is escorted out, amid her screams with her parents trailing behind.
“I’m proud of you, wife.” I reach for her right hand, rubbing it gently. We smile at each other. “That hurt like shit. I didn’t expect to use what you and Jimmy taught me like this.” When we get to the dance floor, our first dance, as husband and wife, is announced. Christina Perri’s, A Thousand Year begins. Pulling Elle into my arms, we move to the music. The lyrics speak for me.
