GIO
From a tender age, I had been a witness to countless weddings, each carrying its own unique tension, a natural byproduct of the tradition of arranged marriages. Yet, Pearce’s wedding to the young Gallo girl outshone them all. It was more than just the generational gap that made it unnerving; the girl was notably younger than Millie, while her groom, Pearce, was well past fifty. Such a match was disconcerting even by the standards of our world. However, it wasn’t this alone that caused my unease. The culprits behind my agitation were none other than Dario and Sienna.
In the aftermath of the ceremony, both Dario and Sienna had vanished, leaving little to the imagination as to their whereabouts. Their escapade was glaringly apparent. Their timing was utterly disrespectful, considering that Sienna was to be wed to Gallo the following day.
Frustration compelled me to voice my confusion to Mathias. As I gestured toward Pearce and his inappropriately youthful bride, I mused aloud, “I don’t comprehend it. She’s younger than two of his own daughters.”
Mathias’s response was measured, tinged with disapproval for Pearce’s choice. “Certain traditions prove resistant to change,” he offered. Though our interactions had grown civil again, it was largely for the sake of appearances before our assembled men. Sending them mixed signals was something we couldn’t afford. The arrangements had been made by Gallo and Pearce, and as I was well aware, the influence of a Capo in familial matters was rather limited.
“Kayla being close to my age makes conversing much easier,” Mathias commented, his gaze shifting toward his wife. He had strayed from tradition by marrying someone who had been previously married, a personal choice that couldn’t be imposed on others. I understood this predicament all too well. Were it solely my decision, I would have abolished the archaic tradition of examining bloody sheets long ago, but the dynamics of power within my family necessitated my compromise. Regardless of my rank, leading the East Coast required collective support, not just my dictation.
Mathias’s attention shifted past me, settling on a young girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen. She bore a striking resemblance to him, her blonde hair an unmistakable family trait. The question of why the Outfit boasted so many blondes had often crossed my mind; it was possible that the concentration resulted from the northern Italian roots of many of our families, originating from Genoa and Bologna. The girl approached us, her demeanor exhibiting an unexpected sense of poise despite her age. She kept her gaze lowered, her curtsy a brief acknowledgment before she addressed Mathias.
With a melodious voice, she relayed, “Mom instructed me to find you for a dance.” Her eyes briefly flicked up to meet mine, and her cheeks flushed. It seemed this was among her first ventures into the social sphere, evidently unaccustomed to interacting with males beyond her immediate family. I understood well why she had been dispatched; Mathias’s sister had likely sensed the undercurrents of tension between her brother and me.
Mathias placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Allow me to introduce you to my niece, Cera,” he declared. His tone bore a protective edge as she squared her shoulders and met my gaze head-on. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
I offered a dismissive shake of my head. “I’m not that old.”
Mathias’s gaze narrowed, and I couldn’t help but suppress a smirk. His family held firm to the standards of decorum, but beneath that veneer lay a shared understanding. He harbored his own demons, much as I did. “If you’ll excuse us,” he interjected, steering the girl away to engage in a dance.
With them occupied, I turned my attention, spotting Dario’s approach toward Sienna. Hadn’t he already stirred enough trouble? Should they disappear from the celebration again, rumors would ignite. I couldn’t permit such a spectacle to unfold, not within the gaze of the entire Outfit. Swiftly, I moved forward and reached Sienna before Dario did.
“Dance with me,” I ordered, my approach lacking the usual courtesies. My patience was wearing thin, and my abruptness reflected that. Sienna’s eyes widened, yet she complied, allowing me to lead her to a quieter section of the dance floor, my hold a touch closer than convention dictated. I aimed to keep our conversation private.
She remained tense within my grasp, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. Was her unease related to my awareness of her actions? Her previous dalliances prior to her wedding wouldn’t have concerned me had she not chosen to involve one of my own men. That was a predicament, my predicament. “You intend to proceed with this marriage? You and Dario were absent for a significant stretch.”
Her response was a quiet affirmation, though her body stiffened in my hold. Fear flickered in her eyes, a trait shared with Millie. They both exhibited the same mannerism, a worried nibble on their lower lips when anxious. Damn it all.
“You’re not obligated to stay married to him indefinitely,” I interjected, recognizing the worry that Millie undoubtedly harbored for Sienna, were she bound to Gallo.
Sienna’s gaze met mine as she subtly shook her head, her expression holding a mix of concern and resignation. “Father would never agree to a divorce,” she whispered, her words heavy with the weight of our predicament.
Her insight was astute, hitting home the truth we both knew. Pearce, our father, had never cared about our well-being or happiness. To him, we were mere pawns in his power games, assets to be traded for his advantage. Reflecting on his actions, it became evident that his consent to marry Millie off to me wasn’t rooted in a genuine concern for her happiness.
The thought that crossed my mind was that there were alternative paths to escape a marriage, routes that sometimes ended in death. I voiced this notion, albeit veiled, but Sienna’s reaction indicated that she had missed my implication. “He’s not that old,” she responded, her voice wavering slightly as if grappling with the idea.
Arching an eyebrow, I maintained a subtle air of intrigue. “Sometimes people meet their end unexpectedly.”
Her steps faltered for a moment, prompting me to gently urge her forward. She needed to refine her ability to mask her emotions. “Why can’t he pass away before my wedding?” she inquired, her eyes holding a mixture of desperation and hope. But even for Millie’s sake, I couldn’t orchestrate such a demise. Allowing Dario to eliminate Gallo, an act he would willingly undertake based on the venomous glares he shot the old man whenever he thought no one was watching, would inevitably lead to all-out war.
“Such an occurrence would raise suspicions. Let some time pass, and it will seem less contrived,” I advised, attempting to offer reassurance.
She shuddered slightly, leaning against me. “Dario might not desire me anymore by then.”
I couldn’t deny the truth in her statement. I pondered whether Dario’s feelings for Sienna would endure if she had endured months of Gallo’s advances. The mere thought was hard to stomach. While love might enable him to overlook such a transgression, I remained uncertain of the depths of his emotions. I doubted he would have taken her virginity if he didn’t hold genuine feelings for her. Dario possessed a certain honor that spoke to his character. However, emotions were fickle, subject to change.
“The Outfit harbors honorable men too. New happiness can be found,” I reassured her, my words sounding hollow even to my own ears. Marrying Arman was her way of preventing a potential war and shielding Dario from himself, an act of courage I acknowledged.
Yet, as the Capo of the Famiglia, Sienna wasn’t under my protection, a truth that unsettled me despite my resolve. The fate that loomed over her was undeserved, but our reality dealt us these unenviable cards all too often.
I led her back to her table, where Millie’s gaze met mine. She stood conversing with Kayla, yet something in my demeanor conveyed that my stance on Sienna and Dario remained unchanged. The risks were too great to prioritize their emotions.
Dario’s pursuit of Sienna had defied my direct orders. My leniency in not punishing him severely was a concession few would receive. Millie’s expression held disappointment and resignation, her determination to argue waning. While she had apologized for her secrecy and initially attempted to sway my decision in favor of her sister, my stance remained resolute. The chasm between us remained unbridged, and I took no steps to close it. In truth, anger lingered, and I had rightful cause for it.
Pearce’s cutting words drew my attention away, his presence disrupting my thoughts. “You and Millie have been married longer than Mathias and Kayla, and yet they’re on their second child, while Millie hasn’t conceived,” he remarked with a sharp edge, his curiosity about our childlessness clear.
My gaze hardened, my focus sharpening on him. “That’s not your concern. Attend to your new wife’s affairs,” I retorted, my irritation with him compelling me to withdraw.
As unfamiliar soldiers approached, I seized the opportunity to depart. Had our father’s traits tainted me too? The legacy he’d left was a nightmare, and I was hesitant to subject any offspring to such a legacy. Eventually, the need for an heir might arise, but certainly not in the immediate future.