Chapter 5

Mia

Giorgia stood back and smiled. “You’re a beautiful bride…again.”

We were in the bedroom we’d been assigned in the Ruiz home. While the house wasn’t as large as Mom’s place, it was beautiful in its own right: Spanish architecture and as Dario had promised, beautifully situated on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

I turned to the full-length mirror. My cream-colored lace dress was formfitting with a hem that came to above my ankles. My hair was styled in an updo. I wore rhinestone-studded four-inch-heeled sandals and beneath my dress was a lace bra and panties. “At least Aléjandro won’t be cutting this off of me.” My attempt at levity wasn’t appreciated by my cousin.

“I’m sorry you have to do this.”

Bending my knees, I sank onto the side of the bed. “I think I’ve come to terms with it.” I had yet to admit the way Aléjandro’s kiss set my body ablaze. “Dario isn’t going to let me change my mind. If he wouldn’t let me change my mind last month, the day of the wedding is a definite no.”

Giorgia sat at my side and covered my hand with hers. “You told him you don’t like sex.”

I nodded.

“I’m glad you were honest with him.” She widened her eyes. “And he took it well. Think what Rocco would have said.”

I shook my head. “Rocco would have been furious because it was sex with him I hated.”

“Do you think Aléjandro’s going to expect it anyway?”

“My world of experience is Rocco. With that as my guide, I’d say yes, he’ll expect it.”

“It could be better with him,” she encouraged. “I mean, he seems fitter than Rocco.”

The memory of Aléjandro’s solid body beneath his shirt the night he proposed warmed my circulation. I sighed. “I feel like I’m going to be comparing the two for the rest of my life.”

“That’s normal,” she said. “I mean, it seems normal.”

Standing, I let my hands fall, slapping my thighs. “At least I knew Rocco when we married. I’d known him for as long as I can remember. I don’t know much of anything about Aléjandro.”

“Maybe that’s better,” Giorgia said. “You two can learn about one another. He proposed. That’s a point for him.”

“It is. Rocco never really asked me. The deal was done.”

“Aléjandro knows he’s not marrying a scared virgin.”

My stomach twisted. “No, he’s marrying a terrified nonvirgin.” Walking to the windows that overlooked the ocean side of their house, I glanced down at the terrace, seeing the guests taking their seats. If only I could concentrate on the scene below and block out how awful sex had become. I’d come to dread it. Not only was I never sure when Rocco would demand it, but I had long since stopped being attracted to him, making the act itself painful even when he wasn’t in an abusive mood.

Something caught my eye. “Oh my God, there is a mariachi band down there.”

Giorgia stood and walked to the window. “Oh, if only Uncle Vincent could see this.” Her navy-blue dress was a darker version of mine. Dario had said the wedding would be small. Even so, he agreed to let Giorgia stand up with me. I’d been told Reinaldo would stand with Aléjandro. Giorgia was the closest person I had to a sister. I supposed I could have requested Catalina, but we only knew one another slightly better than I knew my future husband.

“I should have asked Catalina more about a traditional Mexican ceremony.” My stomach twisted. “It can’t be that different, can it?”

Giorgia’s eyes were big. “I don’t know. I will say, your future father-in-law is a little scary.”

Jorge Roríguez.

El Patrόn.

Drug lord.

“Every man here is, and I don’t mean only on the cartel side. At least I’m not as concerned about a famiglia-slash-cartel war as I was at Dario’s wedding.”

The bedroom door opened, and Mom entered. She looked radiant in a dark blue dress. Apparently, a daughter’s wedding was an acceptable excuse for forgoing black attire. Her exemption was on a time clock: black was only spared for last night and today. Mom was enjoying her reprieve. In some ways she looked younger and happier as a widow than she ever had married to my father.

“Are you ready?” Mom asked, before stopping, scanning me from my head to my toes, and smiling. “You’re beautiful, Mia. Aléjandro is a lucky man.” She came closer and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m going to miss having you at home.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” I said honestly. As much as I didn’t want to move to the mountains after Rocco’s death, sharing our mourning with one another was comforting. I’d originally moved away when I was young and starry-eyed. Coming back as a woman put Mom’s and my relationship into new perspective.  

I looked at my cousin. “I’m going to miss Kansas City.” It wasn’t enough that I’d agreed to marry a stranger; I also had to leave the only place I’d ever known, a place with all my friends and family.

Mom pulled back, straightening her shoulders. “Dario is ready.”

Of course, my brother was walking me down the aisle—what aisle there was on the Ruiz terrace. “I was thinking,” I said, feigning excitement. “I made six thousand dollars by selling my old wedding rings. Maybe instead of walking down the aisle, I could call a cab and head to the airport.”

Mom’s lips pursed. “Mia, stop that.”

I shrugged. “It was a plan.”

“Aléjandro would hunt you down,” Giorgia said.

“Not because he loves me. If I ran, his pride would be hurt, and men can’t stand for that to happen.”

“There is more to marriage than love,” Mom replied. “You knew that the first time.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Mom reached for Giorgia’s hand. “Come on. The wedding is about to start.” She opened the door.

My brother stood there, filling the doorframe, wearing a dark blue suit similar to the ones worn by the other men in the wedding party. After Mom and Giorgia walked past him, he smiled. “You’re lovely, Mia.”

“Compliments won’t make me stop hating you.”

He shrugged his shoulder. “I’m only saying the truth. You are beautiful.” He bent his left arm at his side. “Shall we go downstairs?”

I had a nasty retort on the tip of my tongue, but even I realized it was too late to run and baiting our famiglia’s capo wasn’t in my best interest. Instead, I stepped closer to my brother and placed my hand in the crook of his arm.

“Thank you for not making another scene,” he said. “I hope you know I want you to be happy.”

I pressed my lips together.

“I should have killed Rocco a long time ago.”

“Stop before you make me cry with all this sweet talk.”

Dario scoffed, cutting a bit of the tension. “I don’t know if you were expecting it, but there is a mariachi band playing for the ceremony.”

“I wasn’t expecting it. Do you know any other traditions I might have tried to learn before now?”

Dario shook his head. “Catalina’s and my wedding was more what I’m used to.” He lowered his voice. “I think it is good that we kept this small.”

Inhaling, I walked at Dario’s side through the hallway, down the staircase, and through the house toward the back terrace. This was a lovely home, but it wasn’t where Aléjandro and I were to live. All I’d been told was he recently purchased an oceanfront home. Dario already had many of my things shipped.

As we approached the oceanside terrace, I saw the rows of chairs filled with people. A small wedding meant there were less than fifty guests, a fraction of the number of people who attended Dario and Catalina’s wedding. Nevertheless, Aléjandro was the heir to the Roríguez cartel, and I was the only daughter of Vincent Luciano. This union warranted the attendance of some top brass in both organizations.

By the time we made it to the glass doors, Giorgia, the priest, Aléjandro, and Reinaldo were all standing in front of a flower-covered arch. Beyond the terrace, an azure blue sky met with the aqua hue of the ocean. The faint scent of sea filled my senses as the sun shone down, and music came from the band to the side of the terrace.

This wasn’t the grand production of my first wedding, but it was by no means a lesser substitute. As Dario and I stepped out, the sun kissed my cheeks as the ocean breeze tingled my skin.

My gaze met Aléjandro’s. With his hands clasped behind him, his wide shoulders filled out his custom suit coat, creating a V with his trim torso. A knowing arrogance shone in his eyes combined with the victory of his win as he too scanned me as I’d done him, and his wavy black hair blew gently in the soft wind.

“Who gives this woman…?”

My body stiffened as Dario replied, “I do.”

His answer was painfully accurate. I wouldn’t be standing here in a home owned by a top lieutenant of the Roríguez cartel if it wasn’t for my brother. However, give was probably not the right word.

Sell.

Bargain.

Negotiate.

The priest wouldn’t use those words, but as Dario placed my hand in Aléjandro’s, I heard the words in my head. They were words that confirmed my sentiments from over ten years ago, that of being no more than a commodity.

That was what I was—a product to be bought and sold.

The Morettis bought me with the hopes of joining their family with my father’s. By this time Rocco and I were to have a house full of children sharing our DNA. With Rocco’s death, Dario bought me back, returning me into our family fold. And now here I was being sold again, this time to the heir to the Roríguez cartel.

Defining the transaction in my head chilled my flesh. I opened my eyes as the warmth of Aléjandro’s fingers encased mine. Without trepidation, but not without regret, I looked up at the man who was about to own me. As much as I wanted my marriage to work, I couldn’t see past my loathing for Aléjandro and all he represented.

My freedom only lasted six months.

His grasp of my hand was the completion of the deal.

The priest spoke, “Mia Luciano Moretti and Aléjandro Roríguez, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

It was too late to answer truthfully.

Our only escape from this marriage would be the one that had saved me from my first.

Death.

Aléjandro waited for me to respond.

As our wedding progressed, it seemed the obedient Italian girl wasn’t fully gone. At every turn, I responded appropriately, even reciting our vows as instructed. My hand was steady as Aléjandro slid the wedding band onto my finger. And I didn’t tremble as I slid the white gold band onto his. In some ways I felt detached from the ceremony itself, as if I were watching, not participating.

Perhaps I was back upstairs, peering through the window. It wasn’t me who was committing until death to a man she didn’t know and was pretty sure she didn’t like. No, I was safe upon the second floor watching someone else.

From that view, it was a beautiful wedding.

My out-of-body experience ended when, after our vows and the exchange of rings, the priest instructed us to kneel. It was then that Reinaldo handed the priest a long rosary, resembling a lasso. I stiffened as the beads were wound over and around us in a figure eight, and the priest again began to pray.

Aléjandro no doubt sensed my unease. A squeeze of his hand and a sly smile reassured me that this was a normal part of the wedding.

Tying us in front of the guests?

If this was normal, I’d never seen it before.

The priest lifted his hand and explained, “The lasso is a symbol of Aléjandro and Mia’s mutual support for each other in carrying out their duties and responsibilities as a couple.”

At the sound of the priest’s words, I looked up at Aléjandro.

Mutual support.

Me for him.

Him for me.

It was as foreign to me as the lasso itself.

Once we stood, the priest removed the lasso.

The next was the presentation of wedding coins—apparently, another tradition I’d never experienced. I stood in silence as the priest blessed thirteen coins. Next, he handed the ornate box of coins to Aléjandro, who presented them to me.

“The coins,” the priest said, “remind Aléjandro and Mia that their treasure is now one, and they will share in all that they have together. At the same time, it reminds them to help those who have less than they do.”

A lump formed in my throat. I had a hard time believing the heir to a drug cartel was also philanthropic. Everything was outside my sphere of knowledge. Catalina’s sister said our traditions were savage. I was beginning to see the difference.

Lastly, Aléjandro was given permission to kiss his bride. When we turned to one another, his lips curled in a knowing smile. This wasn’t our first kiss. His strong lips came to mine, lingering a bit longer than expected, and sending a bolt of energy to my core.

Thankfully, with the lack of formality, we didn’t have a receiving line following the ceremony. There would be plenty of time for us to interact with the guests during the reception. Nevertheless, we were instructed to wait for our parents. My mother was the first one to greet us as husband and wife. She’d truly perfected her ability to sound sincere, despite my natural doubt that she wasn’t. Mom’s only motivation was staying in Dario’s good graces.

Josefina Roríguez was stunning with her dark eyes glistening with tears as she hugged me. I had no way to assess her sincerity as she welcomed me as her new daughter. While her accent made her more difficult to understand, I believed the tears in her eyes as she called me mi hija. If nothing else, the scene made Aléjandro happy. Jorge Roríguez was next. I recalled seeing him for the first time at my mother’s pool. As opposed to his gruff persona I witnessed on that day, today he was boisterously joyous, wrapping me in another hug.

After they moved away, Aléjandro took my hand and led me into the house. My pulse quickened as he separated us from our guests.

“Where are we going?”

“With as hot as you look, I don’t think the Ruizes will mind if we use the master bedroom suite to consummate our marriage.”

“What?” I asked, stopping my steps as a wave of panic flooded my system.