Chapter 6

Mia

“You’re not serious,” I said, mortified.

Aléjandro’s hand gently cupped my cheek. “You look as if you’re about to faint.”

“I wasn’t. I was doing okay, but…” I looked around.

“Breathe, Mia. I was joking. My family, the cartel, they can be overwhelming. It seemed that no one prepared you for the marriage-unity lasso.”

That was what it was called.

Haven’t they ever heard of a unity candle?

I shook my head. “No one mentioned it or the coins.” My expression softened. “I think they were meaningful.”

“I’m glad. I would have told you. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know what was happening.” Aléjandro laughed. “I thought we’d sneak away to get a break. I imagine it’s a bit overwhelming. After the unfamiliar wedding traditions, my father’s hugs can be crushing.”

I tilted my head. “I’ve grown up and lived in the Italian Mafia. Our families will need to compete for which is the most overwhelming.”

His gaze focused on my lips. “I want to kiss you. Not like we did out there. Like we did the night of our engagement…like I wanted to after Cat’s wedding.”

My mouth felt suddenly dry.

I enjoyed the kiss on the night of our engagement, but I didn’t want Aléjandro to get the wrong idea. I’d made up my mind. Kissing was as far as I was going in this marriage. I lifted my hand to his chest. “We can kiss, but that’s all we’re going to do.” I shook my head. “I don’t know you well enough—”

The brown of his orbs darkened. “You’re my wife. You’re mine.”

I nodded. “I am.”

“You would refuse me what is mine?”

Refuse him access to my body.

My body was mine. For too long I’d let someone else rule it.

Swallowing, I looked into his eyes. “Rocco raped me the night of our wedding.”

Aléjandro’s jaw clenched, black swirled within his dark orbs, and his nostrils flared. “He deserved to die. That said, we’re married. I won’t spend the rest of my life living under his shadow.”

“Then show me you’re different.”

There seemed to be a war raging in my new husband’s gaze. Finally, his eyes again focused on my lips. “I still want that kiss.”

As I’d done the night of our engagement, I leaned into him as our lips met. The woodsy scent of his cologne tingled my nose while the taste of tequila captured my tastebuds. This time, his hands didn’t stay on my cheeks, but wandered down my back, wrapping me in his strong arms and pulling me closer. Through his suit coat, I again felt the hardness of a weapon.

“Hey, you two.”

We turned to Emiliano, Catalina’s brother.

“People are starting to speculate about where you went.”

Warmth filled my cheeks.

Aléjandro ran his thumb over my lips and winked. “Let them wonder. Let them think I’m ravishing my wife.”

I looked up and met his stare. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not on our wedding day.”

“And you’re okay with what I said?”

“I don’t consider this conversation complete. I have an entire reception to woo my wife. Don’t underestimate my abilities in this department.”

Catalina was right. Aléjandro was arrogant.

He was also smiling even after my bombshell.

Just maybe it was a start.

With my hand in his, we made our way down one level to the reception on the pool deck. The guests clapped when we appeared. Normal pool furniture was gone, replaced with a rectangular table for the four members of the wedding party and multiple round tables for the guests.

As at Dario and Catalina’s wedding, we were met with periodic cheers for kisses from both families.

“Bacio. Bacio.”

“Beso. Beso.”

 Our kisses came easier with each try.

Dario gave the first toast in place of our father. Jorge Roríguez also gave a toast, followed by a few words from Reinaldo and Giorgia. By the time the priest asked for the blessing for our meal, I’d made peace with the reality that the man at my side was my husband.

Legally, we were bound.

I just hoped he realized that was as far as this relationship would go. There wasn’t time to worry; once the food was served, it kept coming and coming.

There were delicious spicy meat stews, savory tamales, chiles rellenos, chiles en nogada, and seafood stews. There was also seasoned rice, stewed tomatoes, salsa, refried beans, and corn and flour tortillas. I was relatively certain I wouldn’t need to worry about my wedding night; soon, I’d fall into a food-induced coma.

Through course after course, I kept thinking about my cousin’s comment regarding my father. I couldn’t imagine him participating in the choice of menu, much less the band and drinks that seemed to be flowing freely.

When it came time to dance, Aléjandro offered me his hand and escorted me to the makeshift dance floor near the deep end of the pool. The sun was nearing the horizon, casting orange and red beams across the sparkling ocean.

Wrapping his arm around my waist, Aléjandro pulled me close as the band began a slow and faintly familiar waltz. I was pleasantly surprised by my new husband’s dancing ability. Rocco mostly stood and swayed. I found myself smiling as Aléjandro glided me over the pavers.

“Your smile is stunning,” he said softly in his deep voice.

“I don’t think I’ve ever danced like this.”

His smile grew as he took a step back and lifted my arm, causing me to pirouette, before pulling me back against his solid chest. My giggles floated away with the romantic music and setting sun.

He leaned closer, whispering in my ear, “I told you; your choice of partner makes all the difference.”

Pressing my lips together, I tried to scowl, but I suspected that the surprise and merriment in my eyes couldn’t be hidden. I wasn’t fooling him or myself. Truthfully, I was shocked that I was having fun. The night went on with the usual dances. After Aléjandro, Jorge was the next to ask me to the floor. Then I danced with Dario followed by Dante. By the time I’d danced with many in Aléjandro’s family, I decided the four-inch heels were a poor choice of shoe.

Unlike the formality of Dario and Catalina’s wedding, this celebration was festive. The only people not seeming to have a good time were my uncles. While I hadn’t been told, I could guess that their presence was at the order of their capo. Moving from Father to Dario was a more difficult transition for those of Father’s generation.

I also suspected that when it came to the cartel, the older generation harbored the same prejudices my father would have. As my uncles Salvatore and Carmine stood near one of the bars talking under their breath, my aunts Aurora and Giulia sat with Mom. At least the women were smiling.

Everyone seemed excited to talk to Catalina. Her growing midsection was more evidence of our working alliance.

“Who are those people?” I asked Aléjandro when we had a rare chance to sit and rest.

He followed my line of sight. “Members of the Ruiz family. I don’t know much more. Why?”

“The girl looks as if she could cry at any moment.”

Aléjandro looked around and waved to Emiliano, Catalina’s brother. He came our direction.

“Mia,” Emiliano said with a nod. “Congratulations. Welcome to the family.”

That would be the greater cartel family. The Roríguezes and Ruizes weren’t actually related—to my knowledge. Unless Dario marrying a Ruiz and my marrying a Roríguez…it was getting complicated.

“Your family knows how to throw a party,” I said with a smile.

“Qué pasa with the couple over there?” Aléjandro asked, getting right to the subject of my question. “Did they miss the part on the invitation that this was to be a celebration? They don’t seem to be having a good time.”

Emiliano sighed. “That’s my Uncle Gerardo and his new wife, Liliana. Our aunt passed away about a year ago.”

Another arranged marriage.

“She isn’t happy,” I said, stating the obvious.

Emiliano didn’t try to sugarcoat it. “She’s not. See the girl next to her?”

I nodded.

“She’s our cousin Sofia. Liliana, our new aunt, and Sofia have been best friends most of their lives.”

The food in my stomach churned. “And Liliana married your uncle? She’s now her best friend’s stepmother? Why would they make her marry someone so much older?”

“Uncle Gerardo is important to the cartel. He needed a wife.”

I turned to Aléjandro. “Did you approve of their marriage?”

He shook his head. “That would be mi padre.”

“She’s a child.”

“She’s eighteen,” Emiliano replied. “Gerardo is a lieutenant who has proven his worth. He got who he asked for.”

Maybe he should have considered Liliana’s or his daughter’s needs in the process.

Emiliano walked away.

Aléjandro reached for my hand. “It’s the way it is in my world.”

“Mine too,” I said, looking up at my husband’s handsome features, his prominent brow, high cheekbones, and full lips. Was I imagining it or did Aléjandro appear as if he actually cared? “It still isn’t right. The woman should have some say.”

“You had your say.”

I scoffed. I had told anyone who would listen that I didn’t want this marriage. “I did, but no one listened to me.”

Aléjandro lifted the hand he was holding to his lips. “I’m not defending the ways of our worlds, but at the same time, I’m happy that those rules brought you to me.”

Watching Liliana affected me deeply. I’d been her but had hidden the reality from others, refusing to let anyone see my private pain. Liliana couldn’t even do that. Was her pain so acute that even at a wedding, she couldn’t bring herself out of its depths? I wanted to help her, to go to her and tell her that I understood. No, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to drag her away from the man at her side, the one who had essentially secured a young wife for his own pleasure, not for hers. I turned to my new husband. “One day, will it be you who makes the decisions about marriages in the cartel?”

Aléjandro nodded.

“I hope you can see things differently when that time comes.”

As he turned toward Gerardo and Liliana, his smile dimmed. “Up until now, my preparation for taking mi padre’s place has concentrated on business.” He again lifted my hand to his lips. “I never saw the need for a wife.”

His candidness surprised me.

He went on, “But in only a few hours, you’re showing me things that I never took the time to see or consider.” His dark orbs settled on me. “There’s wisdom to the idea that it takes a wife to complete a man.” He reached for his glass of tequila and drank what remained before standing. “More dancing?”

“My feet,” I protested.

“Take off your shoes.”

My eyes opened in shock. Being barefoot at my own reception would be a scandal in the making. “I can’t.”

“You’re my wife. That elevates your status among the cartel women to second only to mi madre. Do as you please. Being comfortable is more important than what others think.”

His comment reminded me of my argument with Dario. Once I was wed to the cartel, I was no longer under the famiglia’s control—Dario’s or even my mother’s.

A smile teased my lips as I reached down and unbuckled the strap to each sandal. When I stood, the top of my head barely surpassed my husband’s shoulder. Wiggling my toes, I relished the easing ache in my feet. Looking up, I whispered, “I feel like a rebel.”

“I’ve been known to be one, too.” Aléjandro ran the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “It’s why we fit well together.”

I didn’t want to think about how well we fit together. I wanted to convince myself that I already regretted my decision, and that arranged marriages were a horrible injustice to women everywhere. However, as Aléjandro wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close and pressing my breasts against his solid chest, I inclined my hips toward his, and the tingling and twisting in my core told me that my argument was quickly losing relevance.

The music slowed, followed by Aléjandro’s steps. Instinctively, I laid my cheek against his muscular shoulder, taking in the woodsy and leather scent of his cologne as his hands lowered, resting just above my butt. Before I closed my eyes, I spotted my brother on the dance floor with Catalina in his arms. It was a good thing that she announced her pregnancy before today because there would have been little chance that people wouldn’t have suspected. Her midsection was growing.

Dante had said Catalina melted Dario’s hardened heart. After Josie’s death, Dario had shut down, striving only to become capo. Watching the two of them dance, chat, and smile gave me hope. Not all arranged marriages were hell. Dario and Catalina were an example of that. As I looked up at my new husband, he turned toward me, and without the cheers of the guests, he craned his neck until his strong lips brushed over mine.

“The rest of your dances belong to me,” he said, his deep voice stirring something within me.

I nodded. For a millisecond, my life felt right.

What occurred today was not a marriage my father would have ever accepted. I’d heard negative things about the cartel for most of my life. Rocco was the man Father approved. In Father’s eyes, being beaten and raped was more acceptable than marrying outside the famiglia. Perhaps, these were other reasons for me to give Aléjandro a chance.

Time would tell.

The clock approached midnight, and yet the party was still going strong. Emiliano and Reinaldo carried two chairs to the center of the dance floor. I turned to Aléjandro who was again smiling.

“La Vibora de La Mar,” he said.

I shook my head.

“The sea snake dance.”

“Oh no. I’m not dancing with snakes.”

Laughing, he took my hand and led me to the chairs.

“Am I supposed to sit?” I asked.

“No, stand.” He offered his hand.

I was glad my shoes were under the head table as I stood on top of the chair in bare feet. Aléjandro gracefully stepped onto the other. Taking my hand, he lifted it. The guests cheered as the music began. One by one, the guests took one another’s hands, and danced, passing under the arch of our arms. With each stanza, the beat quickened. Faster and faster the guests danced. Their line swayed and our guests roared with glee, trying to keep their chain from breaking as Aléjandro’s and my hands stayed united.

Finally, the band stopped and once again the guests cheered.

Aléjandro jumped down and with his hands to my waist, lifted me from the chair to the floor as if I hadn’t gained a size but weighed nothing. As my feet contacted the pavers, the chants resumed.

“Bacio. Bacio.”

“Beso. Beso.”

With a grin, I leaned into his kiss. The men cheered as the kiss lasted longer than the ones earlier in the night.

“It’s time for us to go,” Aléjandro said.

The merriment of the wedding celebration faded as I nodded in agreement. I wanted to ask him if he remembered what I’d told him, about expectations for tonight. However, as we walked hand in hand toward the house, I decided not to spoil the mood.

No doubt, it would be spoiled soon enough.