79

The walk lasted an eternity and yet ended too soon. Luca held out his hand, palm facing upward. My father grabbed the corners of my veil and lifted it, then held out my hand to Luca, whose gray eyes seemed to burn with an emotion I could not place. Could he hear me trembling? I did not meet his gaze.
The priest in his white robe greeted us, then the guests, before beginning the opening prayer. I tried not to faint. Luke’s grip was the only thing keeping me focused. I had to be strong. When the priest finally got to the closing lines of the Gospel, my legs could barely hold me up. He announced the marriage rite, and all the guests rose from their chairs.
“Luke and Aria,” the priest addressed us. “Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to one another in marriage? Will you love and honor each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?”
Lying was a sin, but so was killing. This room breathed sin. “Yes,” Luke said in his deep voice, and a moment later my “yes” followed. He came out resolute.
“Since it is your intention to contract marriage, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Luke clasped my hands. His were warm against my cold skin. We were facing each other and I had no choice but to look into his eyes. Luca spoke first, “I, Luca Vitiello, take you, Aria Scuderi, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” How sweet were the lies that came out of her mouth.
I recited the words that were expected of me, and the priest blessed our rings.
Luca picked up my ring from the red pillow. My fingers trembled like leaves in the breeze as I lifted them, my heartbeat as fast as a hummingbird’s. Luca’s strong hand was firm and steady as he took mine. “Aria, take this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
She slipped the ring on my finger. White gold with twenty small diamonds. What was supposed to be a sign of love and devotion to other couples was nothing more than a testimony of his ownership of me. A daily reminder of the golden cage in which I would be trapped for the rest of my life. Till death do us part was not a vain promise as it was for so many other couples who entered into the sacred bond of marriage.
For me there was no way out of this union . I was Luca’s until the end. The last words of the oath taken by the men when they were conscripted into the Mafia could well have been the conclusion of my wedding vow:
“I go in alive and come out dead.”
It was my turn to speak the words and slip the ring on Luca’s finger. For a moment I wasn’t sure I could do it. The tremor shaking my body was so strong that Luca had to stop my hand and help me. I hoped no one had noticed, but as usual Matteo’s watchful eyes rested on my fingers. He and Luca were tied up; they would probably laugh at my fear for a long time.
I should have run while I still had the chance. Now, as hundreds of faces from the Familias of Chicago and New York stared back at us, running was no longer an option. Neither was divorce. Death was the ‘only acceptable end to a marriage in our world. Even if I still managed to escape the watchful eyes of Luke and his henchmen, my violation of our agreement would mean war. Nothing my father could say would stop Luca’s Familia from exercising revenge for making him lose face.
My feelings didn’t matter; they never did. I grew up in a world where no choice was given, especially to women.
This marriage was not about love, trust or choice. It was about duty and honor, about doing what was expected. A bond to ensure peace.
I was not an idiot. I knew what else it was about: money and power. Both were diminishing since the Bratva, the Triad and other smaller criminal organizations had tried to expand their influence in our territories. The Italian Families in the United States needed to end their feuds and work together to defeat their enemies. I would be honored to marry the eldest son of the New York Family. This was what my father and every other male relative had been trying to tell me since my engagement to Luca. I knew it, and it was not as if I had not had time to prepare for that exact moment, yet fear gripped my body in a relentless grip.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
I raised my head. Every pair of eyes in the pavilion scrutinized me, waiting for a glimmer of weakness. Father would be angry if I let my terror show, and Luca’s Familia would use it against us.
But I had grown up in a world where a perfect mask was the only protection offered to women, and I had no problem forcing my face to assume a placid expression. No one would know how much I wanted to escape. No one except Luca. I couldn’t hide from him, no matter how hard I tried. My body would not stop shaking, and his grip on my hands grew stronger. When my gaze met Luca’s cold gray eyes, I could tell he knew. How many times had he instilled fear in others? Recognizing it was probably second nature to him.
He bent down to fill the ten inches that towered over me. There was no sign of hesitation, fear or doubt on his face. My lips trembled against his mouth. My first kiss, if you can call it that . His eyes stared at me, even as he pulled back. Their message was clear: you are mine.
Not really. But I would be tonight. A chill ran through me and Luke’s eyes narrowed briefly before his face broke into a tugged smile as we faced the cheering guests. He could change his expression in the blink of an eye. I, too, had to learn that if I wanted to have any chance in this marriage.
Luke and I walked down the aisle past the standing and clapping guests and left the pavilion.
Outside, dozens of waiters were waiting with glasses of champagne and small plates with canapes.
Now it was our turn to accept the blessings and congratulations from each guest before we could move on to the tables and sit down for dinner. Luca took two glasses of champagne and handed me one.
Then he grabbed my hand again and did not seem to have the slightest intention of letting go soon.
He leaned down, brushing my ear with his lips and whispered. “Smile. You are the happy bride, remember?”
I stiffened, but forced my brightest smile on my face as the first guests came out of the pavilion and lined up to talk to us.
My legs began to ache when we had passed half of our guests. The words addressed to us were always the same. Praise for me for my beauty and congratulations to Luke for having such a beautiful wife-as if that were an accomplishment-always followed by not-so-hidden hints about the wedding night. I wasn’t sure if my face had remained as bright during all of them. Luca kept looking at me as if to make sure I kept up the charade.
Then it was Bibiana and her husband. He was small, fat, and bald. When he kissed my hand I had to restrain myself from shaking. After a few obligatory words of congratulation, Bibiana grabbed me by the arms and pulled me to her body to whisper in my ear. “Make him be good to you. Make him love you , if you can. That’s the only way to get through this.”
She let go of me and her husband wrapped an arm around her waist, a meaty hand on her hip, then they left.
“What did she say?” asked Luca.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, happy for the subsequent supporters who prevented Luca from asking any more questions. I nodded and smiled, but my mind was spinning around what Bibiana had said. I wasn’t sure if anyone could force Luca to do something he didn’t want to do. Could I make him want to be good to me?
Could I make him want to love me? Was he capable of such emotion?
I risked a glance at him while he was talking to a New York mob soldier. He was smiling.
Feeling my eyes on him, he turned and for a moment our gazes met. There was darkness and a fiery possessiveness in his eyes that sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I doubted there was a glimmer of kindness or love in his black heart.
“Congratulations, Luca,” said a sharp female voice. Luca and I turned toward it and something in his demeanor changed slightly.
“Grace,” Luca said with a nod.
My eyes locked on the woman, even though her father, Senator Parker, had started talking to me.
She was artificially beautiful, with an overly narrow nose, full lips, and a cleavage that made my moderate breasts look like child’s play. I didn’t think any of this was natural. Or maybe it was my jealousy talking. I chased the thought away as quickly as it had come.
With a glance in my direction, she leaned over and said something to Luca. Her face remained a passive mask. Finally, she turned to me and hugged me. I had to force myself not to stiffen. “I should warn you. Luca is a beast in the bedroom and so is he. It will hurt when he takes you and he won’t care. He won’t care about you or your silly emotions. He will fuck you like you want an animal. He will fuck you to death,” he murmured, then stepped back and followed his parents.
I could feel the color fade from my face. Luca took my hand and I gasped, but he squeezed it anyway. I pulled myself together and ignored him. I couldn’t face him now, not after what that woman had just said. I didn’t care that it was necessary to invite her and her parents. Luca was supposed to keep them away.
I could tell that Luca was frustrated by my continued refusal to meet his gaze as we talked to the last guests. When we made our way to the tables that had been set up under a canopy of garlands attached to wooden beams, he said, “You can’t ignore me forever, Aria. We are married now.
I ignored that, too. I held my composure with desperate abandon and still could feel her slipping through my fingers like sand. I couldn’t, didn’t want to burst into tears at my wedding, especially since no one would mistake them for tears of happiness.
Before we could take our seats, a chorus of “Kiss, Kiss” went up among our guests. I had forgotten that tradition. Every time the guests shouted those words we had to kiss each other until they were satisfied. Luca drew me against his rock-hard chest and kissed me again on the lips. I tried in vain not to be as stiff as a porcelain doll, to no avail. Luca let me go and we were finally allowed to sit down.
Gianna sat down next to me, then leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I’m glad he didn’t stick his tongue down your throat. I don’t think I could swallow my food if I had to witness that. I was happy, too. I was tense enough as it was. If Luca really tried to deepen a kiss in front of hundreds of guests, I might lose it altogether.
Matteo sat down next to Luca and said something to him that made us both laugh. I didn’t even want to know what kind of obscene joke that could be. The rest of the seats at our table belonged to my parents, Fabiano and Lily, Luca’s father and stepmother, as well as Fiore Cavallaro with his wife and their son Dante. I knew I should have starved to death. The only thing I had eaten all day had been the few pieces of banana in the morning, but my stomach seemed content to live only on fear.
Matthew got up from his chair after everyone had settled down and hit the champagne glass with his knife to silence the crowd. With a nod toward Luke and me, he began his toast. “Ladies and gentlemen, old and new friends, we have come here today to celebrate the marriage of my brother Luca and his beautiful wife Aria…” Gianna took my hand under the table. I hated having everyone’s attention on me, but I gathered a bright smile. Matteo soon made several inappropriate jokes that made almost everyone scream, and even Luca leaned back in his chair with a smirk, which seemed to be the only form of smile he allowed himself most of the time. After Matteo it was my father’s turn; he praised the great collaboration between the New York Mafia and the Chicago Outfit, making it sound like it was a corporate merger and not a wedding banquet. Of course, he also implied that it is the wife’s duty to obey and please her husband.
Gianna was squeezing my hand so hard that I was afraid she would fall. Finally it was Luca’s father’s turn to toast. Salvatore Vitiello was not as impressive, but every time his eyes rested on me, I had to hold back a shudder. The only good thing about listening to the toast was that no one could say ‘Kiss, Kiss’ and Luca’s attention was focused elsewhere. That respite was short-lived, however.