Serafina
After he left, I stood frozen for a long time, afraid to move for fear I would break into a million tiny pieces. But I couldn't stop the tears from silently tracking down my cheeks. Or the way my hands shook when I finally reached for a tissue out of the box in the middle of the sink.
My eye makeup was running down my face, revealing streaks of the purplish bruise that darkened the skin below my left eye. A parting gift from my father when I'd tried one last time to talk him out of this farce of a marriage. Tired of my arguing with him, he'd hauled back and slammed his fist into my face. I'd fallen into the chair behind me, my father's home office fading in and out of the edges of my vision.
"What is this, Fina? Hmm? Why can you not appreciate what I've done for you?" he'd asked me. Then he bent down over me where I sat sprawled out in the chair, pain ricocheting through my eye socket and cheekbone. "The daughter I knew before you ran off would never have been so ungrateful."
I'd glared up at him. "What exactly do I have to be grateful for? That you forced me back into a life I hate? And are now forcing me into a marriage I will hate even more?"
"This life you hate so much kept you in clothes with a roof over your head and food on your table. It paid for you to go to college-"
"It made me a prisoner!" I'd yelled into his face, then I'd squeezed my eyes shut and thrown up my hands, bracing myself for another hit, but it never came.
Instead, my father had just smirked down at me, then straightened to his full height. "I told you, I'm finished fighting with you, Fina. Let your new husband have that pleasure." A smile had broken out onto his face. "I told him you were a feisty one! He's looking forward to breaking you in." Walking back around his desk, he'd sat down and started shuffling through the papers waiting for his attention. "Go clean yourself up and get some sleep. You're getting married tomorrow."
After a moment, I'd sat up and gingerly touched my eye and checked my nose ring to make sure it hadn't gotten ripped out of my nose.
"Out, Fina," my father had ordered.
Shaking off the memory, I used the tissue to try to blend the layers of foundation the makeup artist had used to cover the discoloration, but mostly, the only thing I succeeded in doing was to rub more of it off. At least she'd used waterproof mascara, so I didn't have black streaks running down my cheeks.
I blotted the last of the tear stains away as best I could and then checked my dress. It was a gorgeous traditional number with cap sleeves, a modest neckline, lots of sequins, big skirts, and completely inappropriate for this time of year. It was also not my style at all. But it was what my father could find within his budget on short notice.
The ring on my finger flashed in the mirror, reflecting the light, and I froze. It suddenly hit me. I was now Luigi Morelli's wife. When I left this fancy party, it would be with him. When I went to bed tonight, it would be with him. When I woke up tomorrow, it would be with him.
And whatever happened during the night, it would be with him.
Suddenly, I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. I pulled at the neckline of my dress, tearing the delicate fabric, desperate for breath. Except for my minor outburst the night before, I'd been walking through the last few days as if I were someone else watching another woman's life unfold before my eyes. And only now was the reality of my situation really hitting me.
I was a mafia bride. Sold to the highest bidder, just like I'd always feared. My life no longer my own. The property of the man who was now my husband. And he could do whatever the hell he wanted with me, and no one in this world would blink an eye.
For a moment, the image of Enzo standing with me in front of the altar flashed before my eyes, and I bent forward as the fist that had been squeezing my chest finally let go and sweet oxygen rushed into my lungs.
A dream. It was only a dream.
One that would never become real.
THE REMAINDER of the reception was a blur, and way too soon, I was in the back seat of a black Lincoln with my new husband. I still choked on the word whenever I said it, even if it was just in my head.
Two other cars traveled with us, one in front of us and one behind us. The guard in the front passenger seat and the one sitting beside me were both openly carrying a submachine gun. Something I knew was illegal, even in Texas.
Of course, the mafia made their own laws.
We pulled up to the house-made of stone and isolated like Luca's, but not as grand-and I was shown upstairs by a woman with brassy hair wearing a pound of makeup and dressed in an old-fashioned maid's outfit. She didn't speak, and neither did I as she took me to my new bedroom. As we walked through the door, any and all hope I had of having my own room flew out the window.
Lamps on either side of the large bed let off a soft, warm light. The red comforter on the bed was turned down. If the closet full of suits hadn't given it away, I would've known by the dark colors and large, bulky furniture that this was Luigi's room. It was your typical old-school mafia decor-all black and gold and red. The rest of the house, from what I'd seen of it as I was rushed upstairs, was decorated in a similar manner.
It reminded me a lot of my father's house, and my stomach twisted until I thought I was going to be sick.
I realized she was staring at me, waiting. "What?" I asked her. My tone was rude, but I didn't care. Although maybe I should. It would be nice to have at least one friend in this house. Instead of answering me, she gestured with one finger that I was to turn around. With a frown, I did as she asked, and felt her hands on the back of my dress as she began to unfasten the buttons that ran down my back.
Oh.
"But I have nothing to wear," I protested as I struggled to keep the front of my gown up even as she tried to tug it down.
"There's something for you in the closet," she snapped. "And what the hell does it matter? You're his wife now."
I got the distinct feeling that this woman was as happy about me being here as I was. Maybe that could work to my advantage. Letting my arms fall back down to my sides, I allowed her to tug the bodice of the dress off my shoulders until the whole thing dropped to the floor around my feet. I stepped out of it and waited, wearing only a one-piece, white shapewear thing that I was sure was going to leave permanent marks on my belly and hips and barely covered my breasts. I hated the damn thing, but there was no way I would've fit into the dress without it.
My eyes followed her as she took the wedding gown my father had spent a small fortune on over to the closet, balling it up in her arms none too gently, and I almost smiled as sequins popped off and skipped across the floor.
But the amusement fell from my face when she came back out with a black gossamer nightgown so sheer I wondered what the hell the point of wearing it was. "I'm not putting that on," I told her.
"Fine. Be naked." Dropping the thing on the red comforter of the bed, she walked behind me again and started unfastening the laces of the torture device that was holding everything in.
I tried to step away from her, but she followed me, hanging onto the laces, until I was pressed up against the wall beside the bathroom door. "Stop!" I yelled. "I'm not taking this off."
She heaved a harassed sigh. "You can let me help you take the damn thing off, or you can wait for Luigi to cut it off of you. And let me tell you, I know from experience that he has no regard for the skin underneath. So which is it gonna be?"
After a moment's contemplation, I stopped fighting her. She was right. What was the use? No one was coming to save me this time. Enzo wasn't going to come busting in here to carry me away from my nightmare. He'd gotten what he'd wanted from me and then given me back to my father without a backward glance, effectively getting out of his end of the deal we'd made. And it was time I faced the truth and stopped living in a fantasy world.
He didn't give a shit about me.
My reluctant assistant finally loosened the last lace and hook, and I sucked in a great lungful of air as the contraption released me from its grasp. I helped her push it over my hips and down my legs, one hand on the wall as I stepped out of it. Glancing down, I saw that I was right. Ugly red marks streaked my skin, some so dark I wondered if it was possible for shapewear to leave bruises.
"Put on the nightgown," she ordered. "Your…husband…will be in shortly."
I looked up just in time to see her marching out of the bedroom, her spine so stiff I wondered if she was also forced to wear uncomfortable underthings.
She slammed the door behind her, and I bent down to pick up the shapewear, tossing it into the closet on top of the wedding gown where she'd left it on the floor. My new friend didn't seem thrilled with the fact that there was another woman in the house, and I wondered what her relationship with Luigi was. Not that I cared. As far as I was concerned, she could have him.
I searched the closet for something else to wear. There was no way I was going to wear that thing on the bed if I could help it. That was something a woman wore when she wanted to seduce her new husband. Luigi may force me to have sex with him, but I sure as hell wasn't going to pretend that I wanted it to happen.
Finding nothing but suits and dress shirts, I rushed over to the dresser. I had no idea when Luigi would be joining me, and I didn't want him to walk in and catch me standing here naked. With that thought in mind, I went over to the bed and grabbed the nightgown and threw it over my head. It was sheer and sleeveless, with a low-cut neckline, but at least I felt like I had something on.
Back at the dresser, I found nothing but some tighty-whitey underwear and socks, along with a drawer full of ties and wrist cuffs. Shoving the door shut, I went back to the closet, searching for a robe…anything. I eyed the dress shirts. Luigi wasn't a large man, and I didn't think they'd cover anything, but I was getting desperate, so I tugged one off its hanger and stuck my arms through the sleeves. It barely covered my ass, and I couldn't button it across my chest, but at least it was something.
Covered as well as I was going to be, I walked back out into the bedroom, stood in the middle of the room, and waited.
I didn't have to wait long.