Chapter eleven: Till death do us part

Fiona’s POV

There were exactly three things wrong with my wedding.

One, I didn’t love the groom.

Two, the groom was a dangerous mafia Don who’d practically blackmailed my father into handing me over.

And three, I was seriously considering escaping through the bathroom window, except my wedding dress cost more than most people’s annual salaries, and I doubted I could fit through the damn thing.

“Fiona, stop pacing. You’re making me nervous.”

I turned toward Viviana, who was lounging on the sofa in a champagne-colored bridesmaid dress, sipping champagne like we were attending an ordinary wedding.

“You’re nervous? I’m about to marry a man I’ve known for approximately three days!”

“Technically, you’ve known about him longer.”

“Viviana.”

“I’m just saying.”

I glared at her.

She raised both hands. “Fine. Terrible joke.”

Outside the bridal suite, music and distant conversation drifted through the doors.

Apparently, Luca Ricci had taken my mother’s concerns about organizing a grand wedding in a few days as a personal challenge.

The ceremony was being held at one of his luxury estates overlooking a very beautiful lake. Hundreds of white roses decorated the gardens, crystal chandeliers hung beneath an enormous glass pavilion, and guests had arrived from practically every corner of the rich world .

Politicians, businessmen, mafia bosses.

A delightful collection of people who could probably have someone murdered before the wedding cake was served.

And every single one of them had come to watch me marry a man I barely knew.

“Mamma says it’s time,” Viviana announced after checking her phone.

I looked at my reflection.

The dress was beautiful, of course it was. Luca had instructed the designer to spare no expense, which explained the intricate lace, fitted bodice, and absurdly long train that required two people to arrange.

My platinum-blonde hair fell in soft waves beneath a delicate veil, and the diamond he’d given me glittered on my finger.

I looked like a princess, one being delivered to the dragon.

“Do you think he’ll notice if I don’t show up?”

Viviana stood and approached me.

“Fi.”

“What?”

She took my hands, and for once, there wasn’t a trace of amusement in her expression.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy.”

My throat tightened. “That’s comforting, considering everyone outside thinks this is some grand love story.”

“Then let them think whatever they want. You know the truth.”

I swallowed. “And what’s the truth?”

She squeezed my hands.

“That you’re still Fiona Romano. No matter what happens today.”

I smiled weakly. “Mamma said something similar.”

“Well, occasionally the woman produces excellent daughters with excellent advice.”

I laughed and the door opened.

Father stepped inside, wearing a black tuxedo. His silver-streaked hair was neatly combed, but there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

He stopped when he saw me. “Princepessa.”

Oh, no he hadn’t called me that in years.

“Papa, please don’t.”

He approached me. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

His eyes glistened and that made me angry.

Because how dare he look sad when he was the reason I was getting married in the first place?

“Fiona, I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

I laughed bitterly. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I wish things were different.”

“Then why aren’t they?”

I waited for an explanation, an apology, anything but instead, he reached for my hand.

“I’m doing everything I can to keep this family safe.”

I pulled away.

“Except keeping me safe from him.”

Father flinched and for a moment, I almost apologized and then someone knocked.

“Mr. Romano? They’re ready.”

Of course they were, everyone was ready except the bride.

Father offered his arm, and after a moment, I took it.

***

If there was one thing Luca Ricci knew how to do, it was make everyone else feel insignificant while he stood perfectly still.

He waited beneath an enormous arch of white roses, wearing a black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders so perfectly it should have been illegal.

His dark hair was styled neatly, and his expression was unreadable.

Until he saw me, his eyes moved over me slowly before settling on my face.

And then he smiled, the bastard.

“Careful,” Father murmured as we began walking. “Your dress.”

“Don’t worry. If I fall, I’ll make sure to take someone important down with me.”

He sighed.

The music swelled, and hundreds of guests turned toward us.

I kept my chin high.

If I was going to be sacrificed in front of half the Italian underworld, I would at least look magnificent doing it.

By the time we reached the altar, my palms were sweating beneath my bouquet.

Father stopped in front of Luca and for a moment, neither man moved.

Then Luca extended his hand, Vito Romano placed mine in it.

And just like that, the transfer was complete how lovely.

“Beautiful,” Luca murmured.

I glanced up at him. “The dress?”

His eyes held mine. “The bride.”

My stomach fluttered, what a traitorous organ.

“Careful, Mr. Ricci. Someone might think you actually like me.”

His mouth curved. “Would that be so terrible?”

“Depends. Do you?”

“Ask me again after the ceremony.”

Before I could respond, he turned toward the officiant.

The ceremony began.

I couldn’t tell you half of what was said. Something about loyalty, commitment, and the sacred bond of marriage.

All very touching, considering the groom had essentially negotiated my hand like a business acquisition.

Then came the vows.

Luca went first.

“I, Luca Ricci, take you, Fiona Romano, to be my wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

His voice was steady and certain as though he was making a promise he intended to keep.

Then the officiant turned toward me.

“Fiona?”

I swallowed.

“I, Fiona Romano, take you, Luca Ricci, to be my husband…”

The words felt strange in my mouth, this man was about to become my husband.

“…for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

The officiant smiled. “May we have the rings?”

Matteo stepped forward with the wedding bands.

Luca slid mine onto my finger, and I did the same with his, trying not to think about the fact that I was officially putting a wedding ring on a man who frightened half of Italy.

The officiant looked between us.

“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

My stomach dropped.

Oh, God! It was done and I was married to Luca fucking Ricci.

Then the officiant smiled.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Wait! What?

Luca turned toward me and I froze.

Of course I knew people kissed at weddings. I’d attended enough of them. I simply hadn’t considered that I would be expected to kiss him in front of hundreds of strangers.

I glanced toward the guests and every face seemed turned in our direction.

Some were smiling while others looked curious. A few were watching with the sort of interest people reserved for something they expected to go terribly wrong.

They were waiting to see whether I’d refuse him.

Whether the Romano daughter would embarrass the Ricci Don at his own wedding.

My eyes found Father in the front row and he looked almost as nervous as I felt.

I turned back to Luca who was watching me with that infuriatingly calm expression.

Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

“You do know we have to kiss, little dove?”