Five

 Elena's POV:

The servers began piling the tables with antipasti, everything from Carpaccio, Vitello Tonnato, Mozzarella di Bufala, an entire leg of Parma ham, over a selection of Italian cheeses. My stomach growled at the sight of so much food. It seemed to feel like a decade since I last had breakfast this morning, I grabbed a piece of bread and tore into it.

Mother said, "I wanted to make a toast to you, but your father wouldn't allow it."

That was typical, just like what father would do.

"Never mind him," I said, a little too loudly.

Dimitri and Matteo and the other man with them glanced at us. Mom's eyes hardened on them.

I tugged at her from under the table. "Stop glaring, Ma, you'd put father in trouble," I said, regretting it immediately.

He deserved trouble. I couldn't be the only one to suffer. I hated him for this.

But I just didn't want mum to be the cause of his misfortunes.

I dropped the food I was holding,back on the plate. Suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.

The eyes of everyone on the table snapped to me. 

I tried to hold up my usual smile. Someone stood up across the hall holding a champagne glass in hand, everyone turned their attention back to him.

I breathed a sigh of relief, glad someone had saved me from that.

I leaned back against my seat, a migraine was threatening to barge into my head and mess things up, as if things weren't already messed up just the way they were.

"May I indulge the bride and groom please?" The man that had stood up, said suddenly. My eyes that were almost closing, fluttered back open.

"In Italy, Sicily, we usually have the bacio tradition at every wedding. Since Signore Dimitri is partly Italian and the bride is also partly Italian, may I ask that you indulge us."

Dimitri's eyes gleamed.  

I turned to Mother, a question burning in my eyes — what was Bacio all about — but before I could open my mouth to ask the question, a chant of "Bacio Bacio!" rang out from the crowd. 

Matteo had a wolfish grin on his face as he stared sideways at me. Something about this made me uneasy.

"Mother what is this about?"

"The bride and groom have to kiss." Mother replied helplessly, glaring at the crowd chanting, as though she wanted to beat them up.

The migraine that had been threatening to break out since, finally did with a loud thump! 

Now, I had to battle with both a throbbing head and a hammering heartbeat, resounding in my ears.

"Let the bride and groom kiss!" Matteo cried out, laughing over a glass of champagne.

The chants continued. 

Dimitri stood up, holding out his hand.

I let him pull me to my feet.

There was nothing else I could do to stop him anymore, even though I resented him and our marriage — we were already married anyway and there was no getting out of this.

The Bacio — Bacio cry got even louder. Dimitri tugged me toward him. I stumbled against his chest, his hands slid around my waist, holding me in place, firmly. And his eyes pierced mine as he lowered his lips and brushed them against mine — the music started up, sealing the moment.

His lips tore their way into mine, eating away all the protest, all the hate and resentment. His tongue toured through all the crevices and when we pulled apart, we were both panting.

The crowd cheered and clapped, the music continued drowning out my throbbing heart.

Making my migraine double up.

I was already losing too much of myself in this stupid marriage.

"Do you want to dance with your husband now?" Dimitri asked, smiling down at me.

He was much, much taller than all his men I'd seen that evening. Even taller than father, who was around 6 feet. 

My breath caught as our eyes met and then he grinned. 

Dimitri the cold killer grinned? Unbelievable!

My eyes almost popped out. He stared at me as if he had all the time in the world, his gaze leisurely travelling from the top of my head to my toes, then back up to my face. I felt my toes tingle.

"The dance," he repeated.

I nodded lamely, and his hands curled around mine and steered me out. I was still in a daze. 

What the fuck just happened?

My lips still tingled. 

One dark brow lifted as we reached the dance floor. "Elena, the dance, we have to dance," he reminded me. 

I shoved my thoughts aside, ignoring the knot forming in my stomach, and lifted a hand to place over his shoulders, while he gripped my waist tightly.

The dance began, my heartbeat outmatching the music. 

Dimitri pulled me against his chest for the waltz and I had no choice but to rest my cheek against it. I could feel a gun under his vest. 

The feel of the weapon rekindled my fear, even the groom came to his own wedding with a gun? 

With a goddamned gun under his vest?

I thought nothing about this marriage was normal, but now I really knew it wasn't. We weren't safe even on our own wedding.

A war could break out, people could get killed, on our wedding!

The bloody heck!

"Once we're back at the table, I'll leave you to handle the guests," Dimitri whispered, his lips casually brushing my earlobes, my hair stood on end.

I looked up at his face, fighting down the fear seeping through me. "Why, where are you going?"

His face turned to the same cold passive mask I'd already pictured him to be.

How the hell could he change his expression so easily?

"I have a business meeting to attend to," he said coldly, pushing me back and leading me away from the dance hall, back to our seat. The smile was gone, the cheerful grin and all had disappeared in a flash. 

He was back to steel, cold and emotionless as before.

He let me take the seat before him, then he came up at the rear, picking up a glass of champagne from the table and turning back to face the guests, lifting his glass up. 

The music paused, the people who were still on the dance floor halted in their tracks and threw dirty looks at the disk jockey.

But none of them could say anything when they saw it was Dimitri standing.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologise for cutting you halfway through the party," he said and gave a slow perfunctory bow.

His eyes turned to my father who was still seated — Mother wouldn't dance with him, and he didn't really seem inclined to too. 

"I have to excuse myself for the rest of the night, but feel free to enjoy yourself and party all you want, and drink as much wine and relax."

Father's face turned sour then — this was an insult. He knew, everyone knew, but he had to accept, because he couldn't do anything else about it. The strong always had their way.

Dimitri turned back to the crowd and lifted his glass high.

"Please go on gentlemen, don't let me stop you."

The music started up immediately. Dimitri downed his glass, threw a brief look at his brother and the other men and they all walked out. The party continued, everyone carried on like nothing had just happened, like this was a very normal

thing to happen, like it was okay for a groom to walk out on his bride at their wedding reception.

My hands curled into fists.