Chapter 6

Catalina

The day before the wedding, our plane touched down at a small airport roughly an hour from the Luciano mansion. Despite the offer from Vincent Luciano to use his soldiers, Papá had his own soldiers travel ahead. Our soldiers and their cars were waiting as we landed. My immediate family wasn’t alone; Uncle Nicolas, Aunt Maria, Mireya, and Nick as well as Uncle Gerardo and Sofia were aboard our private flight.

As we taxied, Camila covered my hand with hers and whispered, “You look pale. Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Camila’s, Mireya’s, and Sofia’s concerned looks didn’t go unnoticed.

I had other things besides food on my mind. Mainly, I was thankful that private airflight avoided TSA. While every man on our flight was carrying at least two guns and multiple knives, I was thinking about Em’s early wedding gift. Beneath my flowing sundress was a thigh holster, holding a five-inch stainless-steel fixed blade. During the last two weeks, Em and I spent hours working on self-defense and knife skills. I wasn’t strong enough to beat a man like Em or Dario when it came down to brute strength. My defense had to be offense—quickness and surprise.

As we landed in Missouri, I was morbidly obsessed with what my wedding night would bring. My first night of passion or a bloodbath. These definitely were not the musings of a normal bride-to-be.

Our cars approached the Luciano mansion by first passing through a large gate with a guard. For a moment, I wondered if the guard would ask our bodyguards to exit the cars or remove their weapons. I sighed a bit of relief when they didn’t.

Mama told me that there would be a performance of resigning weapons at the ceremony, but even that was for show. There was a good chance the groom would be armed. After all, he was about to become capo of the KC Famiglia.

Arianna Luciano, Dario’s mother, met us as our cars came to a stop near a large fountain on a circular drive. As our door was opened, I looked up in awe at the grandeur of the home before us. While our home on a cliff was large with a spectacular view of the ocean, the Luciano home was enormous, surrounded by a sea of trees and views of rolling mountains like something out of a travel brochure. There was so much green.

This was my third meeting with Dario’s mother. She was an attractive woman in her mid-fifties. As soon as I stepped onto the brick-paver driveway, Arianna met Mama and me with an embrace and then took my arm, anxious to show us around the house and grounds. “Catalina, we’re so happy you’re here.”

I tried to decipher her truthfulness. If she wasn’t happy about her son marrying a non-Italian, she was doing a good job of hiding it from me. Then again, according to Em, all of the famiglia lied. “Thank you. Your home is beautiful.”

Arianna held tightly to my arm as her stare bore into me. “My son is a collector of sorts. You should know that we’re happy he’s finally decided to collect a woman of worth.”

Of worth.

Before I could respond, her voice rose, talking to everyone. “We’re more isolated up here,” she said, “than being down on the waterfront. Vincent prefers the peace of mind that comes with space.”

Mama, Camila, Aunt Maria, Sofia, and Mireya followed along as Dario’s mother took us from wing to wing, finally settling in the guest wing where we each had our own bedrooms.

Mrs. Luciano pursed her lips. “I won’t pretend to know what the men are doing for most of the day, but I hope that you will make yourselves at home. Dinner will be at six. There are people setting up for the wedding tomorrow, but for the rest of the day, feel free to wander the house, roam the grounds, or use the pool.”

As Camila, Sofia, Mireya, and I settled in, Mama and Arianna discussed the wedding-day plans from the arrival of the beauticians to the ceremony itself. Although Mama never complained, I believed she would have preferred to have been in charge of the festivities. Alas, Patron took that decision from her as he’d taken away my options.

Later that night, I lay in bed staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, wondering where my future husband could be. Was he out in one of the famiglia’s casinos or strip clubs, sowing his oats and fucking every woman he could get his hands on? Was he causing harm to them or others? Was he thinking about the woman Mia mentioned, Josie? Would any of that stop after we were wed?

With too many thoughts and questions, sleep didn’t come easily.

At some time after midnight, I decided to slip from my room and find something to eat. The appetite I hadn’t possessed for most of the day was back, gnawing at my empty stomach. I justified my middle-of-the-night search. After all, Arianna told us to make ourselves at home.

Wrapping my robe over my nightgown, I stepped from the bedroom, expecting to find Miguel. The chair at the end of our hallway was empty. Even bodyguards needed their rest. For a moment, I considered going back to the room for the thigh holster and knife. I pushed that thought away, deciding my paranoia was silly. Certainly, the Lucianos had their security. Luis and Em were on top of ours as well.

The sound of my footsteps was muffled by the long rugs running down the middle of the maze of hallways. Shadows crept around me, created by the small lights shining near the floor. The Luciano mansion was giant during the day. At night, it took on a mysterious mammoth existence. More than once I considered turning around, but honestly, I wasn’t confident on finding my room. Eventually, a large marble landing and a sweeping staircase led me to the foyer. Once on the first floor, I tried to recall the way to the kitchen.

Stately sitting rooms with fireplaces taller than I linked the different rooms. Near the back of the house, in a room with floor-to-ceiling windows, the furniture was absent. No doubt this space was about to be used for the wedding tomorrow. After a few wrong turns, I found the massive kitchen.

While Dario’s mother had walked us through this area, she hadn’t taken time to point out the different features. Without searching for a light switch, I utilized the ambient lighting under cupboards only to discover that all of the cupboards and appliances were covered by the same façade. Cabinets and appliances all looked alike.

Through trial and error, I finally found the refrigerators. The first double doors I opened revealed the entire industrial sized refrigerator filled with silver-covered trays holding food for tomorrow’s wedding reception. It was in the second refrigerator where I found what I’d been hoping for. On the bottom shelf were numerous dishes of the dinner we’d been served, covered, and left for anyone who missed their meal.

I hadn’t missed it. While sitting in the giant dining room surrounded by what seemed like everyone except the future groom, I’d failed to do more than push the lamb, potatoes, and fresh vegetables around my plate.

Since Lola had a habit of preparing extra servings, I’d hoped the Lucianos’ cook did as well. Lola did it for the cartel guards and soldiers who missed mealtime. This way they always had something to eat when they could spare a moment. I felt a twinge of guilt at taking someone’s meal; however, there were multiple plates, and I doubted they would all be claimed. 

Within the glow of the refrigerator’s light, I chose a plate with a smaller portion. My mouth watered with anticipation of the tender roasted lamb I’d barely consumed earlier in the evening. As I started to close the icebox’s door, I stifled a scream, almost dropping the plate of food.

A tall man wearing a dark suit reached for my wrist. His grip tightened as his stare scanned over my unmade-up face, flowing hair, and the robe covering my nightgown.

“Let go of me,” I said, feigning all the strength possible.

“Armando,” a deep voice reprimanded.

The man released my wrist, and we both turned toward the deep voice.

I sucked in a breath at the vision of my fiancé. While he appeared tired, there was still an overpoweringly dominant look to him, as if at every turn he was in charge. After a day and night of whatever he did, Dario’s tie was gone, his collar open at his neck, and the sleeves to his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. His long legs were covered with gray pants, and his leather loafers moved silently over the kitchen floor.

Dario came closer, displaying a hint of a smile. “We didn’t mean to frighten you.”

His deep voice and proximity ricocheted through me, firing synapses of my nerves with tiny explosions. I took a step back, keeping my focus on Dario. “I wasn’t hungry during dinner. Arianna said to make ourselves at home.”

Dario’s lips curved upward. “After tomorrow, this will be your home.” He nodded toward the man with the iron grip. “This is Armando.” Dario looked around the kitchen. “Where is Miguel?”

“You know Miguel?”

“I know everything I can about what’s mine and what is about to be mine. I know he’s supposed to be watching over you, keeping you safe, and if this is any indication, he’s failed.”

I didn’t want to throw Miguel under the bus. He’d been omnipresent throughout most of my life. It wasn’t his fault I slipped away. “I didn’t tell him I was leaving. I simply wanted a bite to eat.”

“Armando will be in charge of your safety beginning tomorrow.”

I knew Miguel would stay with Camila and the cartel. Swallowing, I looked up at the man who moments earlier was ready to crush my wrist. “Armando.”

His once-fierce expression melted before my eyes. “Ma’am. I apologize for earlier.”

“He won’t be touching you again,” Dario said in a tone that I assumed was meant more for Armando than I.

I shook my head. “It’s my fault for sneaking around.” I put the plate back in the refrigerator and reached for the door. “I’ll go back to my room. I’ve lost my appetite.”

Before I could close the door, Dario stepped closer, his cologne mixed with a masculine scent filling my senses and simultaneously sending a bolt of lightning directly to my core. Under the harsh refrigerator lighting, his features were more pronounced—his high cheekbones and dark eyes. There was a dark shadow of stubble on his chiseled jawline.

I stepped back as he reached past me for the plate and closed the refrigerator door, dimming the room. “You said you didn’t eat earlier.”

“Nerves, I suppose.”

Taking the plate, Dario walked across the kitchen and opened a microwave that would have taken me multiple tries to find. “I can warm this for you.”

I started to say he didn’t need to, but before I could, he removed the covering, closed the microwave door, and hit buttons.

Turning, he leaned against the counter and casually crossed his ankles. “We won’t live here.” He shared the information so nonchalantly as if where we lived wasn’t pertinent, as if I would be moving in with him in months not hours.

I’d been given that information. Of course, not from Dario. “In Kansas City?”

He nodded. “We have an apartment in the city. Your father had your things shipped there.” He grinned. “However, when we’re here…” He scanned me up and down and lifted a brow. “I would recommend more clothing for middle-of-the-night walks. Our guards come and go out of the kitchen at all hours.”

I wrapped my arms around my midsection, suddenly conscious of my robe and nightgown. “That’s good information.”

Dario nodded toward Armando who walked away, leaving Dario and me alone in the faintly lit room. “Have a seat.” He pointed to the tall stools at the counter.

Without a word, I did as he said.

When I turned his way, I tried unsuccessfully to read his expression. There was something in the way he was looking at me that made me self-conscious. “Is everything all right?”

“I’ve never seen your hair down. It’s lovely.”

Warmth filled my cheeks. “I suppose we shouldn’t be down here together like this. I’m sure someone would object.”

The microwave signaled that the meal was warm.

Dario opened the door and taking out the plate, brought it to the counter. “I’m not objecting.” Next, he found cutlery and handed a knife and fork to me. “Things have been” —he hesitated— “busy. I should have been at tonight’s dinner.” It wasn’t an apology, but I appreciated that he said it. “I’d hoped to get a moment to talk to you before” —he grinned— “tomorrow.”

I’d hoped for the same thing. Except my hope had started six months ago and ran out long before we arrived in the Ozarks. I took a bite of the lamb. The meat melted like butter on my tongue. “This is delicious. Have you eaten?”

Dario shook his head, took another plate from the refrigerator, and set it in the microwave. Once it was warm, he set the plate on the counter to my side. Before taking the stool, he offered me a sexy grin. “May I?” He was asking if he could sit beside me and tomorrow night, we would be consummating our marriage.

Probably.

“Yes.”

His warmth transcended the sleeve of my robe as he took the seat to my side. Looking up at his dark eyes, I marveled at how small I felt next to him. And yet, despite Em’s warning, I didn’t feel the need for my knife.

“I should have reached out to you more over the last six months,” he said before taking a bite of his dinner. “I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.”

Surprised, I asked, “You are?”

“Yes, Catalina.” He tilted his head. “My lack of interaction isn’t representative of my interest.” He paused. “Did you change your mind?”

Looking down at my plate, I thought of the many times I’d done just that. With a slight grin, I replied, “I could tell you no.”

“You could, but starting our marriage on deceptions isn’t the way we should begin.”

I inhaled. “I thought about changing my mind, more than once,” I admitted. “The reality is I never had a choice.”

Dario laid his fork on the counter, and for a moment I wondered if he would be upset. However, when he turned my direction, I didn’t see anger. I saw something closer to understanding. “Sometimes that’s the way of my world…our worlds.”

“Did you have any choice in marrying me?” I wasn’t sure where my bravery was coming from, but I couldn’t stop my question.

“I chose you. Never doubt that.”

“Was there a list…a menu of prospective wives?”

A laugh came from deep in his throat. “Would yes be a better answer? Saying I was given a variety of choices and chose you above the others?”

“Were you…given a variety of choices?”

Dario shook his head. “I was involved in the negotiations with Jorge.”

I sat taller.

“Our marriage is good for both organizations. I’ll admit I turned down Camila.”

“Patron offered Camila?”

“He did. As I said before, I’m not interested in marrying a child. You’re young—”

“I’m twenty-four, a year older than when you proposed…or gave me the ring.”

Dario’s cheeks rose. “You’re not a child. I also suspect you’re informed in the ways of the cartel.”

“Please don’t ask. I won’t betray their trust.”

“I’d never ask that. I hope that your knowledge will help you accept the ways of the famiglia, and with time you’ll volunteer the same level of loyalty to your new famiglia.”

I hadn’t thought of that. As Em said, after tomorrow I would belong to Dario. I would be part of the famiglia as would our children.

A question about the whore from Wanderland was on the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t make my mouth form the words. In Dario’s presence, I didn’t feel threatened or in danger. While I’d spent most of my life sheltered and my intuition was rarely tested, I couldn’t see Dario as a man who would cause harm. That wasn’t true. He was a made man. He did cause harm, but if I were to associate the famiglia with the cartel, that harm was different. It was necessary. It was business. It helped Dario to be seen as a man capable of becoming capo.

There was no reason why this handsome and currently kind man would purposely harm a woman just because he could.

With my plate empty, I scooted back my stool. As my bare feet touched the floor, I remembered my attire. “I’ll remember to wear more to the kitchen in the future.”

Dario stood and took a step toward me. His touch was warm as he lifted my chin, bringing my gaze to his. The indirect lighting glistened in the depths of his dark orbs. “Good night, Catalina.”

Is he going to kiss me?

My tongue darted to my lips. “Good night.”

He inhaled. “You should go up to your room. If you don’t, I may lose the fight I’m currently having with myself. As future capo, I pride myself in my self-control.” He reached for my long tresses and draped my hair over my shoulder.

Disappointment washed through me; nevertheless, I found myself without an articulate response. “Okay.”

He softly reached for my hand. “Tomorrow, in front of witnesses, I intend to take my first of many kisses.”

Many.

The promise caused a tingle to tighten my stomach. “Tomorrow. Good night.”

When I turned, Armando was waiting in the archway. I looked to Dario.

“He will escort you safely to your room. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.” I didn’t mean to show my unease, but I must have because Dario added, “You’ll be safe.” He held his fist to his chest. “Now and forever. I swear on my life.”

My cheeks rose as I smiled. “Good night, Dario.”