Chapter 101: Chapter One Hundred and One

Gloria stared at herself in the full-length mirror Marge had hauled into Stephen’s childhood room. The rim of the mirror reflected the numerous band posters coating the walls, while in the center stood a bride. A bride she recognized, but not because she saw herself. Instead, Gloria saw her mother. The photos she’d seen of her mom on her wedding day had been worn and faded. Like Gloria, she was married at the ripe age of eighteen in a deal that strengthened two Russian families. While she’d smiled for the photos, there was a sadness in her eyes, a fear of the unknown but deeper than that: resolve.

As her mother had grown, that hidden strength had come more and more to the forefront, solidifying in the first photo after Gloria was born. She held her daughter fiercely, daring anyone to try to take her from her arms. She would do anything for Gloria. She did everything for Gloria.

Looking into the mirror now, the similarities between her and her mother were there in the shape of her face, the set of her eyes, the color of her hair but that was where the similarities ended. Her gown looked nothing like the traditional frock her mother had worn. Her hair was only partially tied up, while her mother’s had been slicked back. Most notably, though, were her eyes. Gloria was not afraid, she was not uncertain… She was in love.

She heard boisterous laughter and moved the curtain by the window. Gloria watched as her future husband helped his father and family friends move seats into their final positions. As if sensing her presence, Frankie glanced up. Their gazes connected for a moment before he slapped a palm over his eyes and shooed her away with the other. She smiled and stepped back from the window to stare at herself in the mirror again, smiling, face flushed with excitement. How differently this day was turning out from what she’d once imagined.

“The first guests are arriving and they are…” Marge gasped as she noticed Gloria standing in front of the mirror. She stepped forward and cupped Gloria’s cheeks between her hands, eyes watering, close to spilling over. “You are beautiful. And, I’m afraid, starting to show?”

Marge placed a hand on Gloria’s bloated stomach. Gloria laughed, knowing even if she were pregnant it would be far too early to be showing.

“No, no, it’s just from that wonderful dinner last night,” Gloria said, recalling the rehearsal dinner set up in the backyard potluck style. Despite her protests, Frankie continued to pile each and every dish onto her plate until she was fit to burst.

“You’ll need your energy tomorrow night,” he’d whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek.

“If you say so,” Marge said with a knowing look. She turned around and started unwrapping Gloria’s bouquet.

Gloria ran her hand over her stomach. “What if I wasn’t pregnant?” Gloria found herself asking.

“Hmm?”

“If… If it turned out I wasn’t pregnant. If, say, I lost the baby or it never came?”

“What are you asking, dear?” Marge asked, her voice soft with concern.

Gloria turned to stare at the woman who had welcomed her into her home and her family with open arms. “Would you still be doing all of this?” she asked, gesturing toward the window where her family and friends were working diligently to set up for the day, her day. She looked down at the ground. “Would you still want me to marry your son?”

Gloria felt gentle fingertips touching her chin, raising it until her eyes met Marge’s. She smiled. “Yes, Gloria. Even if you weren’t pregnant, the moment I met you I would have demanded a wedding for the following weekend.”

“But why?”

Marge chuckled. “You really don’t see it, do you? The way he looks at you?”

“I know he loves me…”

Marge shook her head. “It’s more than love, Gloria. It’s… devotion. Like what a believer sees when they look upon the Lord after witnessing a miracle. There’s only you in his eyes. Only you.” She tucked her chin and smiled wider. “I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure he saw you walking down that aisle. Cause we both know that boy would have just made you swear a blood oath or something crazy and called it a day.” Marge laughed and turned away, shaking her head.

Gloria shrugged to herself, guessing she probably wasn’t far off. What’s even more twisted? Gloria would have been perfectly fine with a blood-oath marriage. She smiled and smoothed her hands down her dress.

“And if you aren’t pregnant…” Marge began, stalling Gloria’s hands halfway down her waist. “Or if you did lose the baby…” Marge’s hands smoothed over her shoulders as she looked at Gloria through the reflection in the mirror. “You would still be my daughter.”

Gloria felt a stinging behind her eyes and a pinch in her nose. She wrapped her hand over Marge’s and squeezed.

“Mrs. Donati?” Nora said from the doorway, her voice quiet, clearly not wanting to break the moment the two women were sharing. Gloria patted Marge’s hand, and they both turned for the doorway. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Donati needs you downstairs,” Nora said, walking into the room. She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Guests are arriving and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

Marge rolled her eyes and set her shoulders. “Hopeless.” She turned to Gloria. “The Donati men are hopeless, I’m afraid. I’ll go down and make sure he is up here to help you down the aisle when the time comes.”

“Actually…” a male voice announced. The three women glanced up, and Gloria stifled a gasp at the tall Italian man taking up the entire doorframe. Matteo Accardi stuffed his hands into his pockets and set his shoulders back. “I had another man in mind for the job… if the bride agrees, of course.”

Silence filled the room as Nora looked between the mob boss and the bride, who stood stunned. Marge’s fists clenched and unclenched.

“You’re him?” Marge asked.

Accardi cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered without needing her to elaborate.

“You took my sons,” Marge said, voice hoarse with emotion.

Accardi looked down at the ground, took a deep breath, and then met her eyes head-on. “Your sons are great men, Mrs. Donati. Trustworthy, strong, loyal… demented,” Accardi said, taking a few steps into the room. “You raised them properly, but they wouldn’t have done well in the roles you imagined for them. I think we can both agree on that. When I met Frankie, he was brought in by my closest confidant, who saw potential in him.” Accardi stood directly in front of Marge now. “I don’t know if he’s ever told you his role. Your son has saved me more times than I’d like to admit. Frankie saved my wife, my child. He looked after my men as though they were his brothers. He’s beaten me to a pulp when I’ve forgotten what is important. I am indebted to your son. It may not be what you imagined for him, but he does matter to me and everyone in my ranks.”

“And Stephen?” she asked, emotion clogging her throat.

Accardi reached out and tentatively laid his hand on her shoulder. Marge’s head bowed. “What happened to Stephen is something I will live with every day. As will Frankie. As will your future daughter. The life that was taken will be avenged. I promise that to you today, Mrs. Donati.”

Marge nodded and looked up at the Don. “I don’t like you.”

Accardi smirked. “Few people do.”

“I don’t forgive what you’ve done to my family.”

“Even fewer ever will,” he agreed.

“Good. So long as you know that.” Marge turned to Gloria. “Are you okay with this man being in the room with you?”

Gloria nodded in answer. Marge waved for Nora to follow.

Nora touched Gloria’s shoulder. “The girls all look good. Everything’s covered. No nips slips today. We’ll be ready to walk ahead of you when you are.”

“Thanks,” Gloria said, smiling as Nora sent her a wink.

Accardi waited for the two other women to leave the room before he let his shoulders relax. His hazel brown eyes swept over the room, nodding in approval at a few of the bands on the walls.

“I saw them at Vans Warped Tour in 2012,” Accardi said, pointing to a poster of the band Yellowcard. He sat down on the bed and interlaced his fingers between his thighs. “Frankie bought me tickets and helped me evade my guard so I could attend. I just wanted to be normal for a day. What’s it been like?” Accardi asked, his eyes shifting to green as the sun from the window hit them. “To be normal for a few days?”

Gloria sighed. “It’s been nice, actually.”

Accardi nodded. “People like them, they don’t get it. But us,” he said, waving his hand between them. “Frankie,” he said, bobbing his head out the window. “It’s all we’ve ever known. We’re… stuck.”

“It’s not so bad,” Gloria said. Accardi raised a brow. “With a guy like him by your side.”

Accardi laughed through his nose. “There’s no one like him. Trust me. I’ve been looking pretty fucking hard since he first drove out to Chicago.”

“He’ll be glad you came,” Gloria said.

Accardi laughed and shook his head. “No, he won’t. He didn’t tell me for a reason. I appreciate you calling, though. He needs us here, whether he wants us or not.”

“Well then, why aren’t you down there standing beside him?”

Accardi ran his hands over his thighs and stood up. He towered over her with his surprising height. She had become accustomed to the normal height of the Donati men. “He’ll have someone down there with him. My concern is for the one who will be walking toward him.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, taking a step back as the height difference was making her uncomfortable. As if he refused to allow her to avoid what he was about to say, though, he took a step forward.

“Sixteen years ago, I gave you away,” Accardi explained. “Without your permission, I handed you over to a man who doesn’t deserve you and then sat idly by as you suffered for years. Today, I would like the chance to rectify that past mistake. I would be honored, Miss Rubanov, if you’d allow me the opportunity to walk you down the aisle and give you away to a man you have chosen... a man who will do everything in his power to protect you for all the right reasons… a man who genuinely deserves you.”

Accardi reached his hand out, palm up, and fingers slightly lifted. Gloria stared into his eyes for a few minutes, judging the authenticity in them. Finally, she lifted her hand and placed it in his. His body shifted, and he turned her hand over to place a small handgun in her palm.

“Find a place to hide this,” he said, his voice low.

Her eyes rose slowly from the gun in her hand to his face. “Why do I need this, Mr. Accardi?”

“Just be ready to use it,” he warned her.