I smile weakly. “No, I don’t. This dress is awful.”
“You are always beautiful.”
As he embraces me, I feel the gun holstered under his arm. Damiano is prepared for violence, even on my wedding day.
Ariana joins us without a word, wearing a simple pink bridesmaid dress, chosen by Mom, of course. As the wedding cars, festooned with white satin ribbons, pull up the driveway, Mom and Dad come downstairs. Dad wears a dark suit. Mom is in a pencil dress with an embroidered jacket, and she’s wearing a large, decorated hat.
She examines each of us critically, hunting for faults. The Barones are going to be on display before all of the important people of Malus today. We can only be perfect. Anything less than that is unacceptable.
After twitching folds of my skirt, straightening Damiano’s tie, and adjusting the strap of Ariana’s dress, she says, “Very well,” and walks out of the front door to the waiting cars.
Dad follows her out of the house without a word to me.
“We’re so proud of you, Lucy,” Damiano mutters, glaring after them. “How beautiful our daughter looks on her wedding day.”
It’s sweet of Damiano to care how they treat me, but even if they did say those words, they wouldn’t mean them.
My bouquet is laying on the hall table, and I collect it. The flowers are uninteresting and pale, and not what I would have chosen.
I’m supposed to ride to the church in the second car with Dad, but Damiano insists on being the one with me instead. It causes an argument because it’s “not how things are done,” but eventually Mom gives up, and she, Dad, and Ariana get into the car in front of ours.
As we drive along, Damiano helps me arrange my voluminous skirts, and while I’m distracted, he steals a kiss.
My eyes close as warmth and love spread through me. I want to linger in this kiss, but I quickly pull away. We’re drivingthrough the busy streets of Malus, and people love to peer inside wedding cars for a glimpse of the bride. “Damiano, someone might see.”
“Let them see. You won’t deny me this while you still belong to me.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me again.
I don’t have the strength to push him away. His lips move over mine with heartbreaking tenderness. As we break apart a few minutes later, gasping slightly, I catch the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but he quickly looks away.
The church where I’m going to marry Andreas is the same one we frequent for Christmas and Easter services. The outside is gray and forbidding, and inside it’s cavernous and always freezing.
We all meet outside the church, and I listen to the voices and music from within. Damiano’s expression is hard and his whole body is taut. Mom and Dad stand several feet from us, as silent and cold as strangers. Ariana is lost in her own miserable world, no doubt anticipating her own fate on these steps in a few months. I insisted upon this charade. The full wedding experience befitting a beloved Barone daughter obediently marrying a Montoni man, before Mom and Dad wash their hands of me forever. They can’t wait to be rid of me.
“Come along, Damiano,” Mom says crisply. She has a seat in the front row, and Damiano will join my fiancé at the altar. Dad moves to my side because he will be walking me down the aisle, but he still doesn’t look at me as he offers me his arm. Ariana will follow behind.
Damiano grips my waist and says tightly, “I don’t want to leave your side. Let me be the one who walks you down the aisle.”
“Damiano, go inside that church.” Dad’s eyes are glinting with so much anger that I wonder if he noticed us kissing in the wedding car.
I cup Damiano’s cheek and gaze up into his handsome face, my heart aching with longing for him. “Please, Damiano. You have to go inside so you will be there when I arrive at the altar. I won’t be able to do this without you, and I must do this.” I lower my voice and whisper, “For us.”
Damiano doesn’t understand what I mean, but he will soon enough.
He presses one last kiss to my lips, not caring that Dad is standing right there, and looks deep into the eyes. “You will always be mine.”
My fingers slip through his, and my throat feels tight as I watch him walk away from me.
Dad has to tug sharply on my arm when it’s time to walk down the aisle. I put one white satin heel in front of the other, and a shiver goes down my spine as the massive church opens up before me and the music sweeps over me. There are roses at the end of every pew, and they’re filled with people who have come here to witness this spectacle between the Barones and the Montonis. They will fill all of Malus with gossip about this wedding for days, weeks to come. What happens here today will strengthen our two powerful families or shatter them.
In the crowd, I glimpse Adora standing beside her tall, dangerous husband, and her amber eyes are filled with concern for me. She’s the only person beside Damiano who’s truly here for me.
I’m vaguely aware of Andreas standing at the end of the long aisle next to the priest. I seek out Damiano, my pillar of strength. Our eyes lock as I approach the altar, my heavy gown dragging on me, and my fingers white-knuckling my bouquet. I’m so focused on Damiano that it’s a shock when Ariana takes my flowers and Dad propels me toward Andreas before stepping away.
Andreas gazes down at me with awkward haughtiness. This is probably the most important he’s ever felt in his life. Over his shoulder, Damiano is looking at me with pain and darkness swirling in his eyes.
Ever since Andreas tried to force himself on me and my parents didn’t care, Andreas has been strutting about like he’s finally a “real” man. In private, he’s a little wary of me, waiting for me to bring up what he did. I’ve been smiling at him and simpering like I’m excited to be his wife, and he’s almost convinced himself that it’s true.
He has no idea I’ve been investigating him. That I’ve documented every suspicious question, every secret meeting. That I have photos that are proof of his betrayal.
