“You have to stop this. It’s not a wedding—it’s a prison sentence.”
I sit forward in the chair. Min never told me her mother’s name, but I can connect the dots.
Dante lifts one hand to me in warning. “Whose wedding?” he asks, as if we don’t already know.
“Minnie’s. Luca has Kepler. He’s using the ferret to force Minerva’s hand. If she doesn’t marry him, he’ll… he’ll kill it. Give it to her in pieces.”
My vision tunnels. Nobody touches what’s mine—not the girl, not the ferret, not the life she’s finally building.
Violet claps a hand over her mouth. Every vein in my body fires. I’m molten. Incandescent. If I had Luca at my mercy right now, I don’t know what I’d do. All I know is that I’d end his reign of terror.
“Where are they?” Dante asks.
“St. Bernadette’s. The chapel on the south side. It starts at eight. You have to hurry.”
I’m ready to sprint out the door. It’s past seven, and I know Vegas traffic.
But for some reason, Dante hesitates. “You don’t usually interfere with Vito’s decisions. Why are you telling me now?”
Alessandra hiccups. “Because… because she still calls me Mama. And I don’t deserve it. And when I saw her at the gala, I knew. For the first time, my little girl was happy. So I can do this. I can go against Vito one time. But you need to help my family, Dante. Please. If you care about your goddaughter at all… don’t let her end up like me.”
If she really wanted to go against her husband, she would have taken matters into her own hands. I’m furious at her for letting this go so far. Although if Vito’s the kind of man who would force his daughter to marry someone as sick as Luca Bianchi, who knows what he’s like with his wife? Clearly, he uses women as pawns. And as a man who has a mom and sisters who love him, that doesn’t work for me.
“Make sure she gets away. Please.” Alessandra’s voice is thick. “Please.”
Dante slams the phone down in answer.
Violet grips the edge of the desk for support. “I can’t believe this is really happening. It’s like we’ve drifted back into the dark ages.”
A detached sense of calm steals over me. I don’t know what rescuing her is going to entail. I do know that I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. “It makes sense. Min isn’t used to being able to count on anyone. And Kepler is her baby. He’s her emotional support animal, all she had to help her through life with her family. At least now, we know where she is, and I can prove she no longer has to go through life hyper-independent. I’ll be there for her.”
Dante opens a drawer of his desk and slips something into his pocket. “Me too, kid. Let’s go crash a wedding.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Minerva
I know a lot of girls grow up daydreaming about their wedding day, but I wasn’t one of them. For one thing, I didn’t have a lot of crushes when I was younger, and to my knowledge, the few boys I did notice never liked me back. I could wear a big poofy dress anytime if I really wanted to, which I didn’t. Besides, weddings never struck me as the height of romance. Even in stories and film, I liked the parts where the characters fell for each other, or overcame obstacles to stay together. Those were the interesting parts.
To be fair, my parents’ marriage didn’t inspire confidence in the institution, either.
A year ago, being subjected to a full glam squad, then crammed into this voluminous white dress with a corset and chicken cutlets, would have left me numb. I knew I didn’t want Luca, but I’d spent so long resigned to my fate that I was almost ready to roll over and accept it.
But this morning, it feels like my heart is breaking. As in, literally cracking apart inside my chest. For the first time, I can imagine walking down the aisle toward the waiting figure of a man I love, a man I want to spend the rest of my life with—and instead, I’m walking toward Luca. The ache isn’t just dread—it’s grief for the life I almost had, the one that finally felt like it fit the shape of me.
Dad’s grip on my elbow is firm. He walks with his chin up, never meeting my eyes, never even looking at me. I’d like to pretend that he’s feeling guilty, that he’s too ashamed to meetmy eyes as he prepares to throw me to the sharks, but I know better. Vito Marino is incapable of regret.
No, he’s not sorry; he’s disgusted. I’ve been dead to him since he handed me that hundred dollar bill. If it were up to him, I’d be an outcast forever.
But Luca wants me, and my father probably owes him a lifetime of favors.
I wish I were dead to Luca too. I wish he’d let me disappear.
Dozens of faces stare up at me, unsmiling, from the pews. I know all of these people by name, but they aren’t my people. They’re my father’s people. Many of the men are his age, dressed in tailored suits that cost more than the average car. I can’t always tell whether the women at their sides are their wives or their daughters. Aldo Oliveri’s new bride is only a few years older than me. She’s the only one whose face betrays any emotion; I can tell she feels sorry for me.
Everybody else is wearing one mask or another. Nobody else sees me.
“Eyes up,” my father hisses. “And smile, for fuck’s sake. Do you know how much trouble you put us through? Do you know what it took to get all these people here at this ungodly hour?”
