Chapter 3

CALISTA

“Are you certain about this Roman? I've known you since you were a little boy. Such.. err.. sudden decision is not in your nature at all.”

Roman's resolute voice echoed in the near-empty cathedral, “Yes, Father.”

“And you child? Are you certain of this?” The priest questioned me. “Yes, Father,” I replied, my throat thick with nostalgia.

It was strange to be in the presence of a priest again. I was born into the Catholic church, and my family, like many other mafia families, were strong followers of the Catholic faith; growing up, I had a profound love for the church; the grace with nuns carried themselves, the early morning refreshing mass, and our daily prayers. My fondness became too much, and one day, over dinner, I blurted out how I aspired to be a nun.

My mother's mouth was opened in shock and my father turned beet red with rage. As the daughter and only child of a capo, I had duties to fulfill, duties that could not be understood by a five year old child

After that day, my father limited my access to the church until eventually, I lost all interest. Even after he died, I couldn't bring myself to go back; it was a painful reminder of everything I had sacrificed to be the perfect daughter.

“Very well.” The priest gave us a small smile. His brown eyes were warm beneath the spectacles he wore. For some reason, I couldn't place it; he reminded me of Santa Claus.

“Since you both are certain, let us proceed. As you requested an immediate wedding, we will have to forgo some of the traditional ceremonies. We'll keep it simple."

Roman dipped his chin in appreciation. “Thank you, Father.” I glanced at the man who, in a matter of minutes would be my husband. Our words from the bar replayed in my head.

‘There would be no meddling in each other's personal affairs. You have your life, and I have mine. There will be no romantic expectations, emotional support, or shared personal lives. We'll maintain separate lives, you'll be my partner in name only. I will protect you from the Orsini boy and you will stay safe within the Chicago territory’

A marriage of convenience with a stranger or an arranged marriage with a man I thought I knew?

‘What would you gain?’ I had asked. ‘You are giving me the greatest protection a Capo can give someone- your name, what would you gain from me?’

Romans's lips tilted by the side, and a smile hovered on his handsome, rugged face. He took my left hand and slipped the ring he pulled out from his smallest finger, and then he whispered ‘Everything.’

“Roman, take Calista's hand and face me.” the priest's words dragged me out of my thoughts. Roman took my hand in his. His big, callused hand covered my small one. He squeezed mine reassuringly, and some of my unease washed away. During our drive here, he had stopped at a shopping mall for me to quickly freshen up and change into a new dress. The dress was a simple white gown, hardly a wedding dress but given our situation, it was the best I could make do with.

“Do you, Roman Cappellucci, take Calista to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

I searched Roman's face for a flicker of uncertainty, for him to bail out on me and laugh about this absurdity.

“I do,” he replied with confidence.

The priest turned towards me, reciting the same words he asked Roman.

“I do.” Roman would protect me from Matteo. I could live a free and safe life in Chicago. I could even be happy again, even though our marriage was as fake as the smile I plastered on my face.

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, Roman and Calista, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I tensed. Roman and I had come to an agreement that there would be no sort of romantic intimacy between us, but we didn't think about this moment. Roman's whiskey-coloured eyes held mine. He leaned forward and cupped my cheeks.

There was an unreadable expression on his face as he brought his lips down to mine. Roman, ever so softly, kissed me, like I was a fragile doll that would break if he didn't take care. His lips brushed mine, and I felt his hot tongue brush over my mouth, seeking entrance; my breathing hitched; just as I was about to open my mouth so he could deepen the kiss, he pulled back, taking the warmth and sweetness of his mouth away.

He schooled his face into that impassive mask again. I sighed, trying to get the taste of him out of my mind. He tasted like sweet nectar, and honey and everything manly.

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Cappellucci.”

After signing on some marriage documents, Roman led me down the altar. He was quiet in a way that made me nervous.

“What now?” I asked as he led the way outside.

“Now, we help you get your revenge against your stepmother and the Orsini boy,” he said so casually we might as well have been talking about the weather.

“My revenge?” I never talked about seeking revenge on Matteo and Maria - my stepmother.

Roman's lips twitched at the side, but he smothered back the smile. Early morning sun seeped in through the tinted glass of the church, making the ends of his brown hair gleam. Roman looked at me with an alarming intensity in his amber eyes; I noticed a tiny gold fleck in them, and my mouth went dry. I have never seen a man so disarmingly handsome.

He placed his hands on either side of my shoulders, drawing up to his full height. At five foot eight, I was in no way a short lady, but Roman's towering build made it seem that way.

“You are now my wife Calista. Whether our marriage is based on convenience or not. And when someone messes with my wife,” he paused, a murderous gleam flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came, “they mess with me.”

“But...but...” I stuttered for the right words.

“But what?”

“But that happened before we even met.”

Roman ran his thumb over my shoulder blades. I stiffened, that single act was enough to send shivers all over my body. The good kind “It doesn't matter. If I have to find everyone from your past who has ever hurt you, I will. You're Mrs Cappellucci now. My wife.”

I gulped down the foreign sensation spreading its way across my stomach. I tried to steady my voice when I spoke next. “So what do you plan to do?”

Roman smirked at me, the sensation spread wider all over my body.

“We're going to Evanston, to attend the Orsini's boy wedding.”