Going with that theme, the heat of disloyalty and passion burned through him, setting fire to everything he touched.
Me.
23
Rosalia
Aniello left early that morning. He told me he had work to do. He’d be back to pick me up when it was time.
Time.
That one word had me feeling a multitude of emotions.
It was time to do this. To show the world what we were,whowe were. No longer Aniello Assanti and Rosalia Lombardozzi, but Aniello and Rosalia—traitors to the oath.
Sometimes the excitement was too much for me, and I had to stop what I was doing to take a deep breath.
Sometimes the dread was too much for me, and I had to stop what I was doing and take a seat.
The entire world felt unsteady beneath my feet.
When the time was right, though, even if the floor undulated, Aniello’s hand in mine would steady me.
With only a few minutes to go until it was time, just the thought of him did.
I took a deep breath and then smiled at Cilla. “What do you think?” I turned to give her the full effect of the gown.
It was red—the color of passion, of fire through the blood.
The dress had a deep and wide-sweeping V neckline that crisscrossed, and it came in at the waist, flowing over my hips, creating a modest train in the back. It gave me an hourglass figure, highlighting all my best assets. The plus side? If anyone decided to douse me in blood, I was prepared.
Even though I’d shown it to Cilla before, I wanted her to see it all put together. My hair and makeup done. Heels on.
She held up her phone and snapped a picture. Then she tucked her phone in her pocket and, surprising me, hugged me so tight I rocked back on my feet.
“I. Can’t. Breathe.” Even though I said the words, I held her back just as tightly.
She sniffed, and I tried to pull back, but she refused to let me. “I’m not good at goodbyes, all right?”
“This is not—”
“It is,” she said. “Or it feels like it. I’m getting married next week. This is it,amica. We both know it.”
She was right. I was lying to myself. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen after we left, but whatever did, I knew Cilla wasn’t coming with us. She was leaving the next day to go back home.
“You’re going to be fine, Cilla,” I whispered. “You’re full of everything I wish I could be. Do you hear me? You are strong enough for this. Life is still going to be good. It’s going to be worth it. You’ll make sure of it—man or not.”
She nodded, held me tighter, and then a second later, released me in a rush that sent us both a step back. Like taking a full breath after being under for too long.
She swiped at her eyes. I dabbed at mine.
She looked at me, really looked me. “I l-love you,amica,” she said.
“I l-love you too, my show girl.”
She nodded and picked up Bambina, hugging her close, before she set her down. She grabbed her purse from the counter. “You take care of yourself. I’ll never forget you.”
“Cilla,” I said, before she stepped out of the door.
