He has no idea what’s coming.
At our wedding, I’m going to destroy him in front of everyone.
16
Damiano
The wedding is still on.
I pick up my wineglass and down the contents in three swallows. Every drop tastes bitter and burns down my throat like acid. I was anticipating Andreas and Cristiano to jump me, attempt to beat my ass, and demand to know what the hell I was doing with my “sister.” There was no way the marriage would continue after the groom had seen his bride with another man. I would have welcomed the chance to fight Andreas, maybe even “accidentally” kill him.
It’s been nearly three weeks since Andreas caught Lucy and I together, and everyone’s pretending like nothing happened. When I came home that night after searching fruitlessly for Andreas, Lucy was different. Distant. Compliant. She wouldn’t tell me what happened while I was gone, just that the wedding was still on.
I know something happened. I can see it in her eyes. But she won’t talk about it.
In front of Mom and Dad, she’s been talking about the guest list, the honeymoon, and her future with Andreas. They managed to secure the ballroom at one of Malus’s big hotels for the reception, and the church has been booked for the ceremony.
I overheard Lucy and Mom shortlisting baby names, and I wanted to put my fist through the wall.
Andreas sits across from me at the table, flushed red from too much alcohol and talking and laughing loudly with the men around him. Next to him, Lucy is smiling, sipping her wine, speaking every now and then when Mom or an aunt or another woman talks to her. She’s a perfect, demure mafia bride-to-be, wearing a butter yellow cocktail dress with her long, loose curls neatly pinned back with sparkling clips. Laid out on the table are the remains of the wedding rehearsal dinner.
They’re getting married tomorrow.
Lucy looks radiantly happy about it.
I’m going out of my fucking mind.
But there’s something off about Lucy’s performance. She’s too perfect, too composed. She smiles at all the right moments, says all the right things. But her eyes… There’s something hard and calculating in them. Like she’s watching everything from a distance. Planning something.
But what? What could she possibly be planning?
The music changes to something vibrant and classic, and the Montonis and their wives and friends call out that Andreas and his bride should dance. Andreas waves them off, protesting good-naturedly, as their calls grow louder and more insistent. Lucy laughs as Mom’s sisters push her toward her groom, and finally the pair get to their feet, hand in hand, as applause breaks out around the room. Andreas pulls his bride close with an arm wrapped around her waist and his hand holding hers, and they start to dance. Everyone in the room fawns over them, and a few minutes later, several more couples join them on theimprovised dance floor. Lucy smiles up at her husband-to-be as he says something to her. They look like the picture of soon-to-be wedded bliss.
I can’t tear my gaze from them as thick, angry jealousy pounds through my blood. There must be a murderous expression on my face, because I hear someone ask, “Damiano, are you all right?”
The world has gone insane. My woman is marrying someone else, and she’s happy about it. I’m so goddamn far from all right.
Lucy must feel my eyes upon her because, a moment later, she turns and watches me over Andreas’s shoulder. Only her eyes are visible, and the hand that’s caressing the nape of his neck. There’s an unreadable expression in her eyes, hard and glittering.
I wonder if she hates me because I couldn’t save her from this.
I wouldn’t blame her. I hate myself.
The party starts to break up. People say their goodbyes and leave the restaurant. Andreas kisses his bride good night on the cheek. The next time they see each other will be at the altar.
I can’t stand it any longer. I go out and stand in the moonlight, my hands shoved angrily into my pockets.
Lucy joins me a few minutes later. Standing before me, she reaches up and strokes her fingertips through the short hair by my temple. She says nothing, but her eyes are filled with that same hard glitter.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“Like what? I’m admiring my handsome brother.”
My insides twist and burn up, and I look sharply away. “I’m not as handsome as your groom, apparently. Are you angry with me, Lucy? Do I deserve you tormenting me like this?”
“How am I tormenting you?”
“By being happy while I am sunk in the blackest misery, with nothing but torture to look forward to in my future.”
