Mom tugged on the dress Dad had chosen for the occasion. For the meat show, as Gianna called it. However, no matter how much Mom tugged, the dress could no longer resist. I looked at myself in the mirror uncertain. I had never worn anything so revealing. The black dress fitted my butt and waist and ended at the top of my thighs; the top was a shimmering gold bustier with black tulle straps. “I can’t wear it, Mom.”
Mom met my gaze in the mirror. Her hair was up; it was a few shades darker than mine. She wore an elegant floor-length dress. I wished I had been allowed something so modest.
“You look like a woman,” she whispered.
I made myself small. “I look like a prostitute.”
“Prostitutes can’t afford a dress like that.”
My father’s mistress had clothes that cost more than some people spent on a car. Mother put her hands on my waist. “You have a wasp waist and the dress makes your legs look very long. I’m sure Luca will appreciate it.”
I looked down at my cleavage. I had small breasts and not even the push-up effect of the corset could change that. I was a 15-year-old girl dressed to look like a woman.
“Here.” Mother gave me five-inch black heels. Perhaps by wearing them, I would reach Luca’s chin . I slipped into them. Mom forced herself to smile fake and smoothed my long hair. “Hold your head up high. Fiore Cavallaro called you the most beautiful woman in Chicago. Prove to Luca and his entourage that you too are more beautiful than any woman in New York. After all, Luca knows most of them.” From the way she said it I was sure she had also read the articles about Luca’s conquests, or maybe Dad had told her something.
“Mom,” I said hesitantly, but she took a step back. “Now go. I will come and find you, but this is your day. You should go into the room alone. The men will be waiting. Your father will introduce you to Luca, and then we will all meet in the dining room for dinner. He had told me this dozens of times before.
For a moment I wanted to take her hand and beg her to accompany me; instead I turned and walked out of my room. I was glad that my mother had forced me to wear heels for the past few weeks.
When I arrived in front of the door to the room with a fireplace on the second floor of the west wing, my heart was pounding in my throat. I wished Gianna was by my side, but Mother was probably warning her to behave herself at that moment. I had to go through this alone. No one was supposed to steal the scene from the bride-to-be.
I stared at the dark wood of the door and thought about running away. Behind resounded male laughter , my father and the Boss. A room full of the most powerful and dangerous men in the country and I was to enter. A lamb alone with the wolves. I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking that way. I had already made them wait too long.
I grabbed the handle and pressed. I slipped inside, still not looking at anyone as I closed the door. Gathering my courage, I faced the room. The conversation died. Was I supposed to say something? I shivered and hoped they wouldn’t see it. My father looked like the cat that got the cream. My eyes sought Luca, and his piercing gaze made me still. I held my breath. He set down a glass with a dark liquid with a clanking sound. If no one said anything soon, I would flee the room. I quickly scanned the faces of the assembled men. From New York were Matteo, Luca and Salvatore Vitiello, and two bodyguards-Caesar and a young man I did not know. From the Chicago Outfit were my father, Fiore Cavallaro, and his son, future boss Dante Cavallaro, as well as Umberto and my cousin Raffaele whom I hated with the burning passion of a thousand suns. And on the sidelines was poor Fabiano who had to wear a black suit like everyone else. I could see that he wanted to run toward me for comfort, but he knew what my father would say.
Finally my father moved toward me, put his hand on my back, and led me toward the men gathered like a lamb to the slaughter. The only man who really looked bored to death was Dante Cavallaro; he only had eyes for his scotch. Our family had attended his wife’s funeral two months ago. A widower in his 30s. I would have taken pity on him if he hadn’t scared me to death, almost as much as he scared Luca.
Of course, Dad guided me straight toward my future husband with an expression of defiance, as if he expected Luca to fall to his knees in amazement. Judging by his expression, Luca might as well have been staring at a rock. His gray eyes were hard and cold as they focused on my father.
“This is my daughter, Aria.”
Apparently Luca had not mentioned our awkward encounter. Fiore Cavallaro intervened. ” I didn’t promise too much, did I?”
I wished the earth would open up and swallow me whole. I had never been subjected to so much … attention. The way Raphael looked at me made my skin crawl. He had only recently been initiated and had turned eighteen two weeks earlier. Since then he had become even more obnoxious than before.
“You didn’t,” Luca said simply.
The father looked evidently discouraged. Without anyone noticing, Fabiano had sneaked up behind me and slipped his hand into mine. Well Luca had noticed and was staring at my brother, thus bringing his gaze closer to my bare thighs. I shifted nervously and Luca looked away.
“Maybe the bride and groom-to-be want to be alone for a few minutes?” suggested Salvatore Vitiello . My eyes snapped in his direction and I couldn’t hide my shock fast enough. Luca had noticed but didn’t seem to care.
My father smiled and turned to leave. I couldn’t believe it.
“Should I stay?” asked Umberto. I gave him a brief smile, which disappeared when my father shook his head. “Give them a few minutes alone,” he said. Salvatore Vitiello even winked at Luca.
Everyone left until only me, Luca and Fabiano remained.
“Fabiano,” said my father’s sharp voice. “Get out of there now.”
Fabiano reluctantly let go of my hand and walked away, but not before he gave Luca the deadliest look a five-year-old could throw. Luca’s lips puckered. Then the door closed and we were alone. What did Luca’s father’s wink mean?
I glanced at Luca. I was right: with my high heels, the top of my head graced his chin. He looked out the window. He did not dignify me with a glance. Dressing like a prostitute did not make Luca more interested in me. Why should he be? I had seen the women he dated in New York.
They would have filled out the bodice better.
“Did you pick out the dress?”
I gasped, surprised that he had spoken. His voice was deep and calm. How come that was all it was?
“No,” I admitted. “My father did.” Luca’s jaw clenched. I couldn’t read him, and that made me more and more nervous. He stuck his hand inside his jacket and for a ridiculous second I actually thought he was pointing a gun at me. Instead he was holding a black box. He turned toward me and I stared intently at his black shirt. Black shirt, black tie, black jacket. Black like his soul.
This was a moment that millions of women dream of, but I felt cold when Luca opened the box.
Inside was a white gold ring with a large diamond in the center sandwiched between two slightly smaller diamonds. I did not move.
Luca held out his hand to me as the awkwardness between us peaked. I blushed and extended my hand. I gasped when his skin brushed against mine. He slipped the engagement ring on my finger, then let me go.
“Thank you,” I felt compelled to say those words and even look at his face, which was impassive, though the same could not be said of his eyes. They looked angry. Had I done something wrong? He held out his arm to me and I passed it through mine, letting him lead me out of the living room and toward the dining room. We didn’t talk. Maybe Luca was so disappointed in me that he was calling it off? But if so, he would not have put the ring on my finger.
When we entered the dining room, the women of my family had joined the men. The Vitiellos had not brought female company. Perhaps it was because they did not trust my father and the Cavallaros enough to risk bringing women into our home.
I could not blame them. I wouldn’t trust my father or the boss either. Luca dropped his arm, and I quickly caught up with my mother and sisters, who pretended to admire my ring. Gianna gave me a look. I didn’t know what my mother had threatened her with to shut her up. I could tell that Gianna had a sharp comment on the tip of her tongue. I shook my head and she rolled her eyes. The dinner was confusing. The men were discussing business while we women remained silent. My eyes kept moving to the ring on my finger. It looked too heavy, too tight, absolutely too much. Luca had marked me as his possession.
*** After dinner the men moved to the lounge to drink, smoke and discuss whatever else needed to be discussed. I went back to my room, but I couldn’t fall asleep. Eventually I put on a robe over my pajamas, slipped out of my room and down the stairs. In a fit of madness I took the passage leading to the secret door behind the living room wall. My grandfather thought it was necessary to have secret escapes in the office and the fireplace room because that was where the men of the family usually gathered. I wondered what he thought would happen to the women after the men all escaped through the secret passage?
I found Gianna with her eyes glued to the peephole of the masked door. Of course she was already there. She turned around, wide-eyed but relaxed when she saw me.
“What’s going on there?” I said in a whisper, worried that the men in the room would hear us.
Gianna moved to the side so I could peek through the second peephole. “Almost everyone has already left. Father and Cavallaro have details to discuss with Salvatore Vitiello. Now it’s just Luca and his entourage.”
I squinted through the hole, which allowed me a perfect view of the chairs crowded around the fireplace. Luca leaned against the marble shelf of the fireplace, his legs crossed casually, a glass of scotch in his hand. His brother Matthew was lying in the armchair next to him, his legs spread apart and that wolfish grin on his face. In the other armchairs sat Caesar and the second bodyguard who had called Romero during dinner . Romero seemed to be the same age as Matthew, so around eighteen. Barely men by society’s standards, but not in our world.
“It could have been worse,” Matteo said, smiling. He might not look as lethal as Luca, but something in his eyes told me he could only hide it better. “It could have been bad.
But my goodness, your girlfriend is an apparition. That dress. That body. That hair and that face. Matthew hissed. He seemed to be provoking his brother on purpose.
“She’s a child,” Luca said in a dismissive tone. Indignation grew inside me, but I knew I should be happy that he did not look at me the way a man looks at a woman.
“She didn’t look like a child to me,” Matteo said, then clicked his tongue. He elbowed the older man, Caesar. “What do you say? Is Luca blind?”
Caesar shrugged, casting a careful glance at Luca. “I didn’t look closely at her.”
“What about you, Romero? Do you have working eyes in your head?”
Romero looked up, then quickly returned to looking at his drink.
Matteo threw back his head and laughed. “Fuck, Luca, did you tell your men you would cut off their dicks if they looked at that girl? You’re not even married to her.
“She’s mine,” Luca said softly, sending a chill down my spine with his voice, not to mention his eyes. He looked at Matteo, who shook his head. “For the next three years you will be in New York and she will be here. You can’t keep an eye on her all the time, or you intend to threaten every man in the Outfit . You can’t cut off all their dicks. Maybe Scuderi knows some eunuchs who can watch over her.
“I’ll do what I have to,” Luca said, swirling the drink in his glass. “Caesar, find the two idiots who are supposed to watch over Aria.” The way my name came out of his tongue made me cringe. I didn’t even know I had two guards now. Umberto had always protected me and my sisters.
Caesar left immediately and returned ten minutes later with Umberto and Raphael, both of whom looked sorry to be called like dogs by someone from New York. My father was a step behind them.
“What does this mean?” asked Father.
“I want to talk to the men you have chosen to protect what is mine.”
Gianna huffed beside me, but I pinched her. No one could know we were listening to this conversation. My father would be angry if we revealed the location of his secret door.
“They are good soldiers, both of them. Raphael is Aria’s cousin, and Umberto has worked for me for almost twenty years.”
“I’d like to decide for myself whether to trust them,” Luca said. I held my breath. It was as close to an insult as he could get without openly insulting my father. My father’s lips thinned, but he nodded abruptly. He remained in the room. Luca approached Umberto. “I hear you’re good with a knife.”
“The best,” his father intervened. A muscle in Luca’s jaw twitched.
“Not as good as your brother, as they say,” Umberto said, nodding toward Matteo, who flashed him a sharklike grin. “But better than any man in our territory,” Umberto finally admitted.