Do I take this man?
I donot.
I don’t want him.
I want Damiano.
Yet I turn obediently to the priest and listen as he begins the service. I wince as Andreas takes my hands in his and speaks his vows, promising to love and honor me. He doesn’t know the first thing about loving me, and there’s not one drop of honor in his body.
The priest announces that I’ve written my own vows, and I feel Mom’s gaze boring into my neck. She didn’t approve this. I made the priest promise not to tell her, making it sound like a lovely surprise for my family and groom. I know they’re going to be surprised.
I take a steeling breath before I begin. It’s important that I speak these words loudly and clearly for the whole congregation to hear.
“I, Lucy Barone, vow to obey you, Andreas Montoni. I will obey you when I’m frightened. I will obey you when I’m sobbing.” I pause as a slightly confused ripple passes throughthe church. It dissipates quickly. I lick my lips and continue. “I vow to give you my body without protest or tears, even though I would rather die than feel your hands on me again, because your vile touch makes my skin crawl.”
The ripple breaks over the congregation again, stronger now. I can feel the people shifting behind me. The confused glances they’re sharing. The pretty smile on my face and the adoring way I’m gazing at my groom doesn’t match what I’m saying.
“I will obey you when I’m panicking. I will obey you when I’m begging you to stop.”
The priest is staring at me in horror.
My groom’s interest has wandered, and it takes Andreas some time to realize I’m not speaking words of love and obedience. When he does, his eyes suddenly widen. He leans close to me, and whispers harshly, “Lucy. What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m reciting my wedding vows, Andreas,” I say, and my voice rings through the stunned silence of the church. “I thought you would want truthful vows, and so I am giving them to you. What was it you said to me? I’m a nasty slut who needs to be taught a lesson. I need to be corrected, and that’s a husband’s duty. And so I vow to submit without protest to whatever you decide to do with my body, no matter how much it hurts. No matter how scared I am, or how many times I beg you to stop.”
Mafia brides are lambs to the slaughter, but I’m not going to silently bare my throat to the knife.
By the time I’m finished speaking, my voice is trembling with anger. I feel a vindictive flash of pleasure knowing everyone who matters in Malus has heard what I’ve said. I’ve kept my hatred from Andreas bottled up tight, but now I’ve yanked out the cork, and every drop of loathing I feel for him is ringing in my voice and blazing from my face.
Andreas glances nervously around at the dozens upon dozens of shocked expressions on the faces of the congregation. Behind closed doors, daughters and wives are expected to swallow their tears and pretend that everything’s rosy, but a rapist is still a rapist in the cold light of day. Condemnation for what Andreas has done resounds through the church.
A large, dark figure appears over my groom’s shoulder. Damiano looms over Andreas like a demon summoned from hell. In a voice brittle with violence, he seethes, “You raped my sister?”
Andreas turns from Damiano to me, frozen in panic. “No! I didn’t. I swear, I…” He looks to the priest for help, but the man of cloth has taken a healthy step back.
Damiano reaches inside his jacket and pulls out his gun. The dark metal glints in the red and golden light beaming through the stained glass windows. He only holds it, he doesn’t point it, but all the blood drains from Andreas’s face. For the first time since he pinned me face down on my bed and half suffocated me, I feel a weight lift from my chest. The air smells sweeter. The world is brighter. How beautiful that Andreas finally feels a fraction of how terrified he made me.
“You hurt Lucy? You said those disgusting things to her?” Damiano glares at where Andreas is still gripping my hands. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
Andreas yanks his fingers from mine. “I—I don’t know what she’s talking about. Nothing happened. Ask your mom. She was there.” Andreas points desperately into the front row.
Damiano whirls around and glares at Mom. Her back is ramrod straight as she keeps her polite society smile fixed to her lips, but her eyes are wide and showing signs of panic. She leans forward, and hisses at Damiano, “Stop this right now. Put away your gun. You’re making a scene at your sister’s wedding, and your father and I will not stand for this.”
Damiano seizes Andreas by his suit collar, and tosses him down the aisle, where he lands in a heap on the ground. In one long stride, Damiano reaches me, holsters his gun, and sweeps me into his arms. He takes my face in his hands and presses his brow to mine, pain etched on his face. “I’m so sorry, Lucy. I didn’t know. What did he do to you, my love?”
Emotion swells in my chest, and I lean my cheek into his hand, seeking his warmth. “I wanted to tell you. He saw us together, and he tried to ‘correct’ my attraction to you, but nothing could change how I feel about you, Damiano.”
In front of the whole church, Damiano, the man the whole world believes is my brother, is caressing me like a lover. The shock and condemnation in the room takes on a whole new flavor, but I don’t care. This is what I wanted, all our secrets out in the open so Mom and Dad can’t quietly force us into miserable marriages.
I wrap my arms around Damiano’s neck and turn my lips up to his. We’re dappled in colored sunlight coming through the stained glass. The man I love is holding me in his arms.
“Lucy…” Damiano whispers, his eyes growing hazy with desire.
His lips descend toward mine, but he’s prevented from kissing me when a hateful voice cuts through our perfect moment.
“Lucy’s lying. I didn’t do a thing to her. You two are fucked in the head. You’re brother and sister, and you’re screwing. Look, everyone. You can all see it!” Andreas has pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off, and he’s fuming in anger.
I pull away from Damiano and turn to face Andreas.
