Till Death Do Us Part

Mia

This time of year, a sea of green surrounded my parents’ mansion tucked away in the Ozark Mountains. High above, the sun shone in a beautiful sapphire-blue sky. Workers milled about in preparation for my brother Dario’s wedding. As a means of an escape from the hubbub or perhaps hoping to avoid the bride’s incoming family, my cousin Giorgia and I lay by the pool, enjoying the solitude out of the way of the chaos.

Giorgia lay on her stomach, a magazine in her grasp, as she read news of celebrities and the type of people often envied. “I’m thankful all of our dirty laundry isn’t published for the world to read.”

“Like the fact Dario is marrying someone from the cartel?”

Giorgia laughed. “Catalina was nice enough at the bridal shower.”

Closing my eyes, I remembered the shower. A plane full of my brother’s family, mostly women and bodyguards, flew to Southern California for a one-day trip. Mom insisted that our family had a strong showing. It was all about an alliance the Luciano famiglia and Roríguez cartel were forming.

“Nice,” I said, thinking of my future sister-in-law. “I think I may have scared her with the see-through teddy.”

Giorgia giggled and rolled to her back, tossing the magazine to the travertine tile. “She was as white as a sheet.”

We both laughed.

“She’s marrying the future capo,” Giorgia said. “She should get used to being outside her comfort zone.”

I nodded. “I guess she’s better than Josie, but” —I shuddered— “I don’t envy Dario for marrying into that family. Rocco says the cartel will double-cross us. He doesn’t trust them.”

Rosa, one of Mother’s maids, appeared, carrying a tray with two mimosas. “Mrs. Moretti.” She handed one to me. “Mrs. Pesci.” She handed one to Giorgia.

We waited until the maid walked away before bringing our glasses together with a giggle. “To the alliance,” my cousin said.

After a sip, I shook my head. “Rocco would be furious to know I was even pretending to support it.”

My cousin looked at the glass in my hand. “How would he feel about your third mimosa before noon?”

I pressed my lips into a straight line. “Since I’m on my period, he knows I’m not pregnant.” I made a face. “It added to his wonderful disposition.”

“You’re wearing a bathing suit.”

“I told him that Father would be furious if the cartel saw bruises on the capo’s daughter.” I laid my head back against the chair and lifted my face to the sunshine. “Holding that over him has been the best part of this farce.”

We both turned toward the sound of male voices.

Father’s gaze went disapprovingly toward the two of us. “Mia, Giorgia, go inside. Our guests have arrived.” We might both be married adult women, but that didn’t matter. My father’s word, as capo dei capi, was law.

Giorgia and I stood and quickly covered ourselves with beach robes.

The three men standing with Father were obviously from the Roríguez cartel. The oldest was probably in his early sixties with a complexion darker than the other two. The younger ones were probably in their twenties or thirties, with haunting dark stares simmering unabashedly toward the two of us in our bathing suits.

Father’s chin was raised as he explained. “Jorge, this is my daughter, Mia, and my wife’s niece, Giorgia.”

The older man smiled and nodded. “Beautiful young ladies.” He turned to the younger men. “My sons, Aléjandro and Reinaldo.”

“Hello,” I replied.

“Hi,” Giorgia said.

Aléjandro and Reinaldo merely nodded.

“I’m afraid they’re both married,” Father said with a chuckle. If the information was supposed to stop the leering looks from Jorge’s sons, it didn’t. 

Giorgia and I hurried away from the pool deck with our mimosas in hand. Once inside the safety of the house, we both gulped down the remainder of our drinks.

“Rocco is right,” Giorgia said. “The way those two were looking at us gave me the creeps. I should tell Antonio.”

Telling my husband that the drug lord’s sons were leering at Giorgia and me like we were for sale would, one, result in my husband punishing me for being at the pool at the time of the cartel’s arrival, and two, create a showdown between my husband, Vincent’s son-in-law, and Jorge Roríguez’s sons.

“I think we should keep it to ourselves. Over half of the famiglia is upset enough about this alliance.” I shook my head. “Telling Rocco and Antonio about the Roríguezes would just add fuel to that fire.” After leaving our now-empty glasses on a table, we went up the stairs toward our rooms. Lowering my voice, I said, “We’ll be lucky if we get through Dario’s wedding without bloodshed.”

Despite everyone’s concerns, the marriage ceremony came to a successful conclusion. The Luciano and Roríguez alliance was official, and my eldest brother was finally a married man. I almost felt sorry for Catalina. Every now and then throughout the wedding and now during the reception, she’d turn to Dario with a look of terror.

Part of me wanted to tell her that she’d survive. Despite Dario’s reputation as The Blade, a man capable of killing without remorse, he had a kinder heart when it came to women, kinder than others in our famiglia, such as our father or my husband.

The men who arranged these marriages as if they were nothing more than business deals had no concept of the horror and anguish the new bride was forced to endure. To them, it was all about transactions, benefits, and cementing their roles. The fact that most women weren’t even aware that their wedding was being planned until the deal was done went completely over the men’s heads.

“You kind of want to give her a pep talk,” Giorgia whispered in my ear during the reception, speaking of Catalina.

“She’s probably thinking about her wedding gown.”

My cousin covered her lips with her fingertips as she laughed. “I thought she was going to faint this morning when we told her about that tradition.”

We hadn’t realized that Catalina was unaware that tonight Dario would cut her wedding dress from her body. The sheer fright in her eyes let us know of our mistake.

An expression of sympathy washed away Giorgia’s smile. “It’s not fair. Even if she isn’t one of us, Catalina is nothing more than a sacrificial lamb.”

“She’s no different than you and me. We didn’t have a say in who we married.”

“But at least we married within the famiglia.” My cousin shook her head. “I can’t imagine being told I had to marry one of them.”

It wasn’t a concern we needed to worry about. Giorgia and I had done as we were told and married within the famiglia. There was no getting out of our vows except by death. My gaze landed on one of the cartel men across the room. I recalled he was one of Jorge’s sons. Taller than Rocco, Aléjandro had wavy dark hair, a muscular build, and an arrogance about him as if he had the audacity to think of the famiglia the way we thought of the cartel.

He was talking with his brother and others from Catalina’s family when he turned.

My heart beat in double time as his dark gaze landed on me, scanning me as if I were still wearing my bathing suit from yesterday.

Giorgia followed my line of vision. “Don’t let Rocco see you checking out Jorge’s son.”

“I’m not checking him out. If anything, he gives me a weird feeling, like he thinks he’s better than the famiglia.”

Aléjandro’s lips curled into a grin as he whispered something to his brother, and they both looked in our direction.

Giorgia reached for my arm. “Come on. I need more champagne if I’m going to survive this reception.”

As Dario and Catalina took to the dance floor, Giorgia and I made our way to one of the many bars set up throughout the reception. The young redheaded woman in line in front of us didn’t need an introduction. She also wasn’t supposed to be at the wedding.

“Oh, Mia,” she said as she turned with her drink in hand. “Hi.”

“Jasmine. What are you doing here?” I was relatively certain my father had forbidden her presence.

“I didn’t want to miss Dario’s wedding.”

“You weren’t invited.”

Aléjandro appeared from the crowd, placing his arm around Jasmine’s waist. “Jasmine is my guest.”

I sucked in a breath at his presence and predatory gaze.

“Surely, there isn’t a problem with my guest.”

Straightening my neck, I met his stare. “I shouldn’t be surprised that the two of you found one another.”

“Mia,” Jasmine said pleadingly.

It wasn’t her fault she was despised by the famiglia. It was who she represented and what—a time when Dario chose to follow his own rules instead of Father’s.

Aléjandro’s smile returned as he tugged Jasmine toward him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He scanned from my light brown hair to the tip of my shoes. “Jasmine is a rare find. Most famiglia women are cold as ice.”

“She isn’t famiglia,” I said.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Giorgia said, friendlier than I was. After Jasmine returned her greeting, my cousin looked at me and tilted her head. “Mia, Rocco is looking for you.”

“Yet, from what I hear, they make such obedient wives,” Aléjandro said as we walked away.

“Rocco isn’t looking for you,” Giorgia whispered as we walked away. “That guy gives me the creeps. What is he doing with Jasmine?”

“I don’t know. I can’t stand either one of them.”

After Dario and Catalina made their exit, I looked around for Rocco. The reasonable answer was that he’d gone with the other soldiers into Father’s office. That get-together was one last opportunity for the fruition of a red wedding—top officers from both the famiglia and cartel in close quarters with alcohol and weapons.

The other possibility was that he found someone else to screw. A smile threatened my façade. If that was the case, I might get a good night’s sleep.

Up in the mansion, I walked down a back hallway, trying to avoid any of the guests, when I made a startling discovery.

Aléjandro and Jasmine.

He had one arm against the wall, trapping Jasmine.

There was something about her body language that set off my alarms. I wasn’t a fan of the young woman. That didn’t stop the small hairs on the back of my neck from standing to attention at seeing her in what appeared to be an uncomfortable situation.

I raised my voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the big meeting in my father’s office?”

Both sets of eyes came to me.

Jasmine’s blue gaze sent a silent plea my direction. Aléjandro’s dark orbs were again scanning me from my head to my toes.

Steeling my shoulders, I went closer. “Jasmine, you should go.”

Quickly, she nodded.

Aléjandro dropped the arm that had been preventing her retreat. As Jasmine slipped away, her predator turned his attention on me. His lips curled as he reached out, caressing my face. Without thinking, my palm slapped his cheek. The smack sent hot tingles through my hand and up my arm.

Instead of responding in kind, Aléjandro began to laugh. “I like a woman with fire in her blood. Much better than a timid little girl.”

“Go to hell.”

He secured his arrogant grin. “There’s no doubt. I just want to have some fun along the way.” His deep, accented voice was like the prickling of rubbing velvet against the grain.

The heat of his stare singed my flesh even beneath my dress, finding its target at my twisting core. My body’s reaction was not only inappropriate, but it was also downright wrong. This man represented everything I detested about my family and his.

Power.

Greed.

Misogyny.

“The next time you want to have fun” —I emphasized the word— “do it with someone who is of age and wants your attention.”

“Jasmine is eighteen. Of that, I’m positive.”

“If you think she wanted what you were trying, you have a warped sense of entitlement.”

He took a step closer. “You’re right.”

His answer surprised me.

“Her fire wasn’t near as hot as yours.”

I took a step back. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He shook his head. “I can smell your arousal, Mia. You want a man who knows what he wants and takes it.”

“You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Before I could say more, the rumble of voices caused both of us to turn.

“What the hell is happening?” Rocco yelled. My brother Dante was at his side.

“Aléjandro is leaving,” I answered.

I supposed I should be happy my husband wasn’t screwing some waitress from the reception. However, as our eyes met, Rocco’s stare sent a cold chill over my flesh, the exact opposite of the effect Aléjandro’s had.

“We’ll show him out,” Dante said. “Come on, Rocco.”

Instead of watching them leave, I hurried toward my room, dreading my husband’s return.