Vanessa’s looking at me rather than the box. “Did you want to try it on? We’ll need to check the sizing and then figure out the best places to conceal weapons.”
Try it on? She wants me to put the dresson? The very symbol of what’s to come. The decision made. My possible mistake.
Suddenly, she reaches over and sets her hand on mine, her touch soothing the grip I’ve unknowingly latched onto the cardboard. “It doesn’t have to be today. Soon would be best…but not now. Alright?”
I only nod, and she and Anastasia leave.
When I was a kid, I envisioned wedding dress shopping with Madre and friends, though Alessio doing the work feels appropriate. Considering our marriage will be hopefully a moment in time that’ll be cast from memory, it wouldn’t be fair to endure the shopping aspect, feigning pleasure in deciding my appearance forhim.
That’s what I try to remind myself as I lift the glossy, thick white lid from the base, being met with more white. A folded-up note rests on top of the dress. With cold fingers, I pick up the cardstock, noting the embossedAVby the top.
Signorina Mancini,
This is what you will wear to walk down the aisle to me. Since you’re new to our world, I’ve taken it upon myself to ensure you will be a bride worthy of a Vitale. Every Five Family will be in attendance. All Capos, their wives, children, most trusted advisers, and the five Commission members. You willnotembarrass me.
Which brings me to my next point.
The wedding will go off without a hitch. This will be what the entire Cosa Nostra expects from us: a grand ceremony in an approved church, under the eyes of God. Our union will be blessed by a priest I am flying in from my own church. He has wed every Vitaleand will continue to do so. You will not bother with bridesmaids, and I will forgo groomsmen. I am quite eager to get to the vows, and watching other women walk down the aisle does not interest me.
Following the ceremony, we will go down the street to the hotel for the reception. You will smile and play the joyful bride. We will dance. You may speak with your Bratva friends. You will do everything to appear like this is what you desire, or so help me, you will not like me for the remainder of our lives. You will eat what is placed in front of you because I will not have a fainting bride. You will drink no more than two glasses of champagne—and champagneonly. You will eat a small slice of cake, which I’m told will be magnificent. By ten, we will leave.
Until then…
Have Volkov inform your school you will no longer be attending. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. But you won’t return after this week.
Your new friendships in Russia will end. Use the reception to say goodbye. The morning after, we will travel to my home, where you will have no further contact with the Bratva. I will wipe their numbers from your phone myself if I must.
This includes Lev Petrov. You already know what’s expected of you as my wife. You will wearmyring and bearmychildren. If I catch word he’s sniffing around, deal or not, his life ends. Make no mistake—he will never touch you again. Ensure he’s aware of this, or it’ll be his head on the line.
Until next week, my beautiful bride.
—A.V.
The note falls from my hand as a new wave of rage consumes me. My body shakes, and the box is shoved off my lap. Behind my palms, tears drip; this note is simply the start. Demanding and cruel—exactly what he’ll be.
It’s temporary. It’ll be over soon.
Inhaling, I reach inside the box for the gown.
Temporary, temporary, temporary. One night. A few hours to survive.
The gown is lifted halfway out of the box, enough to glean a general idea of the design. It’s pretty, with a sweetheart neckline, floral lace overlaying the bodice, clinched until mid-thigh before it flares into a long train, but it’s nothing I’d have chosen.
“What’s that?”
Lev’s voice, his sudden intrusion, has me dropping the dress like it’s on fire, spinning to catch him in the entranceway. Eyes as dark as this very moment narrow on the gown, and his expression narrows. “Oh.”
“Alessio sent it,” I explain before he incorrectly assumes I picked it.
“I’ll be in the basement,” he mumbles before disappearing, leaving a different sense of emptiness behind.
Once his steps fade down the hall, I turn back to the box with a scowl. Beneath the dress is a pair of white heels, teardrop earrings with a matching necklace, and a veil also lined in a flower pattern.
I stuff everything back into the box and slide the entire thing beneath my bed, rushing from the room to escape. No one’s downstairs, allowing me to slip into the basement undetected. I find him at his computer desk, a game on the screen. His fingers rapidly stab the keys, the volume hiked to fill the space with the sound of computer-generated bullets aimed at virtual enemies.
It’s loud enough to mask my steps, though he doesn’t react when my hands rest on his shoulders. He simply taps the spacebar to pause the game and turns halfway, reaching to pull me onto his lap. He buries his head in my hair, whispered words tickling my skin. “The dress makes it seem so much sooner.”
“Less than a week,” I reply, slumping in his hold. “Faster it comes, the faster it ends.”
