Chapter 8

Catalina

As the priest began his prayer, I lifted my chin in search of Dario’s expression. As it was for most of our talk last night, his countenance was unreadable. His eyes were open, staring at the man with the collar and robes. Once the prayer was over, Dario squeezed my hand as a slight smile threatened his mask.

I willed myself to remain standing as different readings of Bible verses were given. It was easier than I imagined, blocking the world away and concentrating on my breathing; that was, until the priest asked, “Catalina Ruiz and Dario Luciano, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

My first instinct was to laugh.

Dario’s deep affirmative response reminded me of my role.

“Yes,” I said after Dario.

“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other as long as you both shall live?”

Now and forever.

In alive, out dead.

My gaze went to Dario, who effortlessly gave his oath. He turned to me.

My voice came out stronger than I even hoped. “I am.”

“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and His Church.”

Our hands were already joined.

Dario was the first to speak. “I, Dario Luciano, take you, Catalina Ruiz, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

I wanted to believe him.

It was a childish desire, yet I couldn’t push it away.

“Catalina?” the priest prompted.

After clearing my throat, I began, “I, Catalina Ruiz, take you, Dario Luciano, to be my husband.” I wasn’t sure how I made it through the entire consent, but I did, with Dario’s penetrating stare watching my every move while his hands offered support.

The priest lifted his hands. “May the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder.”

When it was time to place the rings, I was certain the entire congregation could see the way my hand trembled.

Despite the moving target, Dario slid the diamond-encrusted band over my fourth finger. “Catalina, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”  Lower for only me to hear, he added, “Are you all right?”

I nodded.

Camila handed me Dario’s ring. I turned back toward him, sliding the ring over his fourth finger. “Dario, receive this ring…”

The priest asked for God’s blessing and then said, “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss.”

Kiss.

My breath caught in my lungs as I turned toward my husband. Despite his hesitation last night, here, in front of witnesses, there was none. Dario leaned down and brought his firm lips to mine. The kiss lingered longer than I expected, as indicated by the way my body warmed from the top of my head to my toes. When we pulled away from one another, my cheeks and decolletage were warm and no doubt blushed. There was something new in his stare—possession. I was now his, now part of the famiglia. The deal was complete.

“Go in peace.”

As Dario and I turned toward the guests, I wondered if peace was possible. The Roríguez cartel on one side of the aisle and the Luciano famiglia on the other. Forcing a smile, I decided to be happy there was—as yet—no bloodshed.

Dario took my hand and led me down the aisle. The bridal party followed. As our guests were dismissed, I stood with Dario on one side of me and Camila on the other. Famiglia and cartel alike shook our hands, hugged, and congratulated us on our wedding. More than once, I heard men from the famiglia congratulate Dario on his beautiful wife.

I sucked in a breath as Josefina Roríguez appeared before me. “Catalina, you’re an absolutely beautiful bride. Mejores deseos.”

“Gracias.”

Patron was next. His large hands grasped my shoulders as he kissed both of my cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw we had Dario’s attention.

“Your loyalty makes you shine above all,” Patron said.

Dario possessively wrapped his arm around my waist. “Jorge, it’s an honor to have you attend our wedding.” Dario’s expression didn’t match his words.

Patron offered Dario his hand. “It is an honor to attend such a meaningful occasion.”

With the tense greetings, I almost missed the next guest in line. “Felicidades,” Aléjandro said. He motioned to the redheaded girl to his side. “This is Jasmine.”

She appeared young, with pale skin, vibrant blue eyes, and curly hair.

“Hello,” I offered.

She smiled in return, but her eyes were on my husband.

As she caught his attention, Dario stiffened at my side. “Jasmine?”

“Congratulations, Dario,” she said in a quiet voice.

If looks were daggers, Dario would have taken Aléjandro to the ground with only one. To Aléjandro’s credit, he only smiled.

Giorgia and her husband were next. He was tall and lanky with obvious respect for Dario. While they seemed like a happy couple, I couldn’t help thinking of him slicing her wedding gown on their wedding night.

The tradition turned my stomach.

Ana and her husband, Elizondro Herrera, were next. My eyes opened wide. I hadn’t seen Ana since her wedding nearly six years ago when she left for Mexico. While she was recognizable, she’d also grown even more beautiful. To my surprise, she hugged me, whispering in my ear, “Love him even if he doesn’t deserve it. Make him love you. You can make it work. I did. You can too.” She backed up and smiled. “Catalina, you remember Elizondro?”

“Si, it’s an honor.”

Elizondro was younger than Patron, but no less powerful. His and Ana’s marriage united the two cartels. It was no wonder Ana shared a fortress with him. He was renowned for his cruelty and wealth. Thankfully, it appeared Ana only experienced one of those behaviors. Elizondro took my hand and lifted my knuckles to his lips. “Hermosa.”

Dario’s body tensed at my side. The power at this wedding was reason enough why I should have worn my thigh holster. Retrieving my hand, I laid it on Dario’s arm. “Dario, this is my friend Ana and her husband—”

“Herrera,” he said with a nod, the muscles in his jaw tight. I noticed that he didn’t offer his hand to shake. “An unexpected surprise.”

“I couldn’t deny my wife’s request to attend her friend’s wedding.”

Dario forced a tight smile. “I’m sure I’ll have the same problem—denying my wife.”

I’d wanted to ask Ana about her children, but the mood was taut enough to shatter. I was grateful for the next round of guests. Vincent’s consigliere, Tommaso Moretti, introduced himself and his wife, Gia. My aunts and uncles, as well as Dario’s, congratulated us. The women hugged me. Some of Dario’s uncles’ leers made me squirm. The procession continued as my feet ached. Finally, we reached the end of the line and Dario led me to the head table on the large terrace.

As we were taking our seats, a chant came from the guests as others clinked their wine glasses with silverware. “Bacio. Bacio.”

Others chanted “Beso. Beso.”

They were repeating the word ‘kiss’ in both Italian and Spanish, neither side wanting to be outdone.

Looking up at Dario, I stiffened, wondering what he would do.

“The first of many,” he said with a grin before leaning down, his lips again taking mine.

The guests cheered.

“Welcome, sister,” Dante said, stepping around Dario’s shoulder. It was the first time I’d formally met Dario’s brother. The Lucianos didn’t favor one son over the other in the department of looks. Dante was also handsome, in a more youthful and easygoing way than Dario.

“Dante,” I replied. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

His grin quirked. “It will be hard to avoid me.”

Dario smiled. “Dante and I work rather closely. I’m afraid you’ll be sick of him in no time.”

The wedding party settled into our seats as the waiters and waitresses filled our glasses with champagne. Dante was the first to stand, offering a speech that basically said it was about time Dario tied the knot. Camila’s speech was more sentimental. I fought back tears as she talked about missing me when I move away and about our friendship as sisters. Papá spoke and then Vincent, both mentioning the newfound association of our two families. For a moment, I wondered if Patron would stand. He and Josefina were seated with my parents. A collective breath was taken as the priest offered the final speech and prayer blessing our union and our meal.

Waiters descended upon the guests, delivering the first course as well as refilling glasses. The menu favored traditional Italian foods, making me wonder if Patron or others in the cartel found that offensive. I tried to keep my attention on Camila, afraid I wouldn’t be able to eat if I thought too much about Dario. It seemed he was preoccupied with Dante. More than once I heard Aléjandro’s name mentioned.

“Is everything okay?” Camila asked.

“Who is the redheaded girl with Aléjandro?”

She looked out over the tables. “I don’t think I’ve seen her before. Why?”

I kept my voice low. “I got the feeling Dario wasn’t happy to see her with Aléjandro.”

Camila lifted her glass of champagne. Drinking age wasn’t a factor when you were surrounded by criminals. She lowered her volume. “Maybe Dario is all right. He has a good sense about him. Aléjandro is a pig.”

We clinked our glasses.

The sound multiplied as more glasses rang with strikes from silverware and chants again began. Dario turned my way. The inscrutability of his gaze appeared to be changing. Perhaps thawing. With each kiss, I saw…could it be desire?

Chefs appeared before multiple tables, each table having a different entree. We watched as lamb, veal, beef, and pork were carved. Dario was served first and then me. By the time our plates were filled, Dario laid his hand on my leg beneath the table. “If you eat now,” he whispered, “we can avoid late-night trips to the kitchen.”

Looking up, I took in his features. “I enjoyed last night’s snack.”

“I plan to enjoy tonight’s even more.”

I shuddered as Mia’s comment came back. ‘Men like it bald. No hair in their mouth.’

Dario tipped his forehead to mine. “You just turned pale and earlier you were trembling. Don’t tell me you’re scared of me.”

“Aren’t people supposed to be scared of you? Isn’t that how you do what you do?”

“Not you, Catalina. I don’t want to scare you.”

I nodded. “I’ll eat.”

I managed a few bites of the delicious meal. As we cut the cake, the sun set over the mountains, leaving a crimson hue in the western sky. Next, Dario led me onto the dance floor illuminated by strings of overhead lights. More twinkling lights seemed to go forever into the surrounding forest, giving it an almost fairy-tale appearance.

With my hand in his, Dario wrapped his arm around my lower back and tugged me against his hard body. Ignoring the hardness of a pistol beneath his jacket, I craned my neck to see his handsome face.

His deep tenor rumbled through me. “You look magnificent, Catalina. When I saw you coming down the aisle, I wondered how I was lucky enough to have you as my wife.”

“I suppose that was Patron’s doing.”

Dario’s eyes darkened. “It was my doing. Never confuse the two.”

The music began and Dario led me around the dance floor. Despite his change in expression and tone, I concentrated on the way it felt to be held in his strong arms. Whether a predator by day or a criminal by night, Dario exuded power, strength, and control. It was almost natural to allow my body to follow his lead. By the time the music faded, Dario’s expression was back to unreadable.

We walked to our seats. My rest was short-lived. Vincent Luciano asked me to dance—an offer I couldn’t refuse. Thankfully, he held me at a respectable distance and didn’t require much in the way of conversation. After Vincent, Dante and I waltzed. I lost count of the number of partners until Aléjandro tapped my shoulder with a bow.

Taking my hand, he pulled me closer than necessary, increasing my anxiety.

His lips were close enough to blow warm air on my ear and neck. “Dario is a lucky man.”

I pulled back, meeting his stare. “From what I understand, he’s a deadly man. Luck had very little to do with it.”

Aléjandro acted like I’d just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard before he said, “The next time I’m in KC, we should go to dinner with you.”

“We?”

“Jasmine and me. She’s something. I’m sure Dario told you about her.”

I’d worked too diligently to wear a mask to let it fall now. “She’s a child.”

Before Aléjandro could respond, there was another tap, this time on his shoulder. We both stopped dancing as Dario glowered at Aléjandro. “I believe the future dances are mine,” my husband said, spinning me away from Aléjandro. I landed against his chest, where he possessively held me in place. Before I could say goodbye to my dance partner, my husband had me moving about the floor. “What did you say to him that was so funny?”

I tried to recall. “He said you were a lucky man.”

“And you?”

“I told him you were deadly, and luck had little to do with it.”

Dario’s lips curled upward.

“He also said something about having dinner with us the next time he’s in Kansas City.”

Dario’s dark stare bore into me. “Did he mention Jasmine?”

“He did.”

Dario tensed as his lips pressed together.

“Who is she?”

His expression softened as he leaned down and brushed his lips with mine. “Not tonight, Catalina. Tonight is about us.”

Is she one of his whores?

“She’s a child, Dario.”

“She is.” It was the final word.

Near midnight, Dario stood and reached for my hand. He didn’t need words to tell me what he wanted. His stony façade of indifference had morphed throughout the night. Each kiss. Each look. Each display of his possessive nature. They all combined in a melting cauldron of desire, his wanton hunger glistening within his dark orbs.

“Bed her,” Dante said. “Bed her.”

I closed my eyes, expecting the same chant as with the kisses; instead, there was silence. Dario’s expression quieted even his brother. Clinging tightly to his hand, I let Dario lead me away from the remaining guests up the staircase and toward a wing of the house I hadn’t seen.

Releasing my hand, Dario opened the double doors to a beautiful bedroom. “Mrs. Luciano.” He gestured inside.

Was this how those queens felt as they walked up to the executioner?

I stepped inside and Dario closed the door.