Chapter 53

Screamed because it didn't matter how hard I tried, I was powerless.

Screamed in failure.

Then I stopped, stared ahead, composed myself, and grazed the pads of my fingers across the weapons I had managed to conceal. There were only two, my favorite push dagger on my leg, and a thin stinger-knife hidden in my hair. Custom made to be fixed into my hair roots with a loop at the end. It was my last toy bought in Italy and I hadn't had the chance to play with it. At least tonight, I had it with me.

The passenger door opened and closed. Quickly, his scent infiltrated the cabin, and I faced the window. There was nothing for me to say, so I allowed the quiet to stall, and my eyes wandered to the side mirror. As expected, SUVs followed, and the gates closed behind our tail. As we rolled out on the long road that led out of his private property, streetlights cast through our wake. When we passed one that flickered and another that was busted, he took a long, annoyed deep breath.

What was it with him and streetlamps?

Maybe one day, I could bust each one that trailed down his grand fortress. Maybe then I could get a pure reaction from him.

"I don't trust your father. Hence the reason I needed a date for our wedding." Massimo shook the silence. "And I don't trust you," he sliced. Massimo's words continued cruelly. "I found the first dead body in the alley of Pecattos. One of my clubs. I didn't think much about it, it's Miami. The second, though, was deliberately tossed by one of my abandoned warehouses. Only a Cosa Nostra member would know I own it."

I didn't dare interrupt him, too scared to stop the truth from flowing.

"I took care of those who carried out the killing. Amateurs, outsiders. That's when I obtained the picture. Giuliani was going after what he'd admired from afar for so long. The one person who was promised to him, and the one who was taken from him. You."

I clutched the seat belt, nails scratching the smooth strap closer.

"I've stood my ground and attacked when the right opportunities crossed to the point that not much was left to destroy, and while New York had many casualties, it has turned your father desperate. Without Aldo on his seat, I don't see this treaty lasting long even after our marriage." I felt his gaze. "It wasn't meant to last anyway."

What did he mean by that?

"But yesterday, five more bodies were found throughout the night."

"I fail to see how those connect," I murmured.

Massimo's long pause sealed my dread.

"They were all similar versions of you."

My heart broke for those lives, and I felt a change that approached with eerie calm. As if the grain I'd held on to for far too long had been picked. It was so small, yet so valuable to keep for so long. And I accepted the hostile takeover. Hope was for the weak.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Like you said, you won't do me any good dead."

Leave it to the rich and arrogant to party for the unfortunate and call it compassion, rolling in cars that could build shelters, and wearing clothes that could warm hundreds and smiles that never faltered by the amount of filler spent on faces instead of filling bellies.

I roamed around them like a hypocrite in my dark-forest-green dress, secretly imagining who they would be without their money.

If they truly wanted to help stop hunger in America, and not just use this charity as a tax write off, they could use their money to assure it was spent correctly. But they didn't, because they never truly cared.

"Smile," Massimo whispered into my ear as groups of men and couples nodded his way.

His embrace seemed private to lingering eyes as he played the part of dangerous mogul and doting fiancé. I inched away, laughing as if he'd said something hilarious.

Massimo's eyes narrowed.

I smirked.

As we strutted around, between handshakes, he asked me, "Are you having bridesmaids?"

I hadn't given much thought to our wedding planning, hadn't even cared to ask Mrs. Carmine or Thalia if they needed help. This marriage wasn't out of love, much less a celebration of two people wishing to spend the rest of their time together. It was arranged. A simple contract that tied promises and power. I was treating it as such. A business deal I had no interest in meddling in between. But now that I understood the severity of what was at stake, I couldn't push it away anymore. I would happily help with the sole purpose of remaining away from my father. At least with this heartless demon, I felt attraction. I knew this devil and understood him. I was more afraid of the unknown. Call it a win.

But one thing I was certain of, Mrs. Carmine's daughter was not making my dress, and I would walk down the aisle until meeting Massimo's monster at the altar.

But it was only a few weeks away, and I needed a dress.

"I don't really have girlfriends," I said, unconcerned. "I haven't seen my cousins or spoken to them since I left the States, so" I caught his profile. "Why? Were you planning on-"

"It can be just us two."

I wanted to disagree, to tell him if he wanted his family next to him, I understood. But I didn't. Deep down, I didn't need the reminder of how alone I truly was.

A waiter passed by, tan skin, dark eyes, and a tray filled with champagne flutes. He stopped in front of us, glanced over Massimo, and gave him a curt nod.

"Champagne?"

Surprised by Massimo, I stood stunned when he reached for two crystal glasses.

I didn't take a sip.

"It's fine, Alessandra." His lips moved against the rim.

"Was that one of-"

His eyes cut me off. "We aren't alone."

I took a sip and savored the bubbly and rich taste on my tongue.

Music played softly, ballads of classic tones that mixed well with conversations without overpowering the lies spoken. But after the fourth couple, I was growing tired of small talk.

Conversations that were forgettable by the next person. The men spoke, leaving the women to chat alone, as if I needed to talk about their recent vacation, or the new clothing line that had been released. And when the men finished, their plus one gushed over meeting me, expressing their happiness and joy for the delightful time they'd spent with me.

I never even spoke. Just a few nods, small smiles, and the occasional, "Of course."

We moved from one end of the villa to the other in a historic mansion my eyes couldn't stop appreciating. A structure that took me back to the Mediterranean Sea. Tall Spanish arches and greenery that swept inside in vines. Detailed tiles and stones merged together, reminding me of the countryside of Tuscany my grandfather would take me to visit when younger. It was old, beautiful, and every detail screamed wealth as did the people inside.

"How long do we have to stay?" I asked when their backs were far enough to hear.

"We'll leave after the action."

"When does it start?" I asked. I couldn't keep up this charade for much longer. My body had grown stiff, hiding the pain inside.

Massimo chuckled darkly, and his hand seized my lower back.

He took me away from the chatter. Each step further away we took, the easier I could breathe in. It wasn't until the humid air and breeze hit my skin that I relaxed.

Two females spoke far by the outside courtyard while we remained at a distance and under the low-lit and open porch by the corner.

"Did you take anything?"

"Hm?"

"Your body leans to your left. Your steps while graceful, drag. And your breathing is shallow." He cleared his throat. "Don't worry, no one else can tell. All they can see is power and confidence."

He knew. Of course he did. Massimo didn't miss anything.

"It must have worn off."

His eyes shifted to the door. "Whenever you are ready."

I didn't utter a word, and Massimo bathed in the shadows, leaning against a pillar, watching me.

Somehow his eyes unraveled me by the thought of seeing through me.

Could he see the decay within me? The spoiled feelings? How my survival persona promised to make it out alive even if it meant with blood staining my hands?

"Do you have a favorite flower you would like at our wedding?"

I shook my head.

"A particular champagne? Wine?"

I shook my head again.

"Outside or inside?"

My eyes lowered.

"I don't know if you mean it, or if you are trying to make this difficult."

I thought about it for a second.

"Outside wedding, inside reception. Black and white, not a touch of color. Covered with enough flowers to drown the smell of corruption." And death. "Sweet and yet tangy, not too dry. And as for the cake?" I met his eyes. "Cherry flavored."

Massimo smiled.

He smiled.

"Done." His smile disappeared. "Are you ready?"

As ready as I could be.

"Sì."

The auction went on and on. And the people we were seated with were obnoxious spenders. Deep pocket politicians that would often whisper into Massimo's ear. I leaned closer to Massimo, trying to muffle the endless scents and perfumes my nose couldn't take any more as a headache threatened. I focused on his familiar aroma, wishing it blocked all others. My eyes had trouble adjusting to the blinding shimmers of dresses everywhere I turned, and while the room's light had dimmed, the chandeliers never took a break.

The man on the stage screamed out bids, firing words rapidly without restrain. Overloaded with noise, scents, and light, a metal taste filled my mouth.

"You are flushed and not the kind I like to see," Massimo uttered straight ahead.

"You like a kind?" I challenged weakly.

His head dipped, capturing my eyes.

I looked away.

Massimo liked a certain blush, and thinking about the activity that created such a blush almost made me forget the pounding in my head. Almost, because the taste in my mouth lingered as bile warned.

"Alessandra?" Concern rang in his whisper, and when I didn't meet his gaze, he stood. "Come."

I took his outstretched palm without question. Massimo curled his arm and placed my hand in its crease.

As we walked in unison away from the crowd with my hand gripping his jacket, I couldn't wait to be inside the restroom. Alone.

The longer we strolled through the surrounded gold accents of the hall, my vision played in swirls. Curves and patterns that danced the deeper we walked.

Breathe.

I did, and I centered my eyes on one spot to ease the rising nausea. A lady walked out from a door and into the hallway with a smile aimed at her partner, who was waiting for her across the open door.

"Not that one."

Confused, Massimo led me past the happy couple, and the bathroom door opened again. I peered between the two women who'd stepped out. Revolted by the laughter that erupted from the cramped space, I didn't argue.

We took a left and continued.

"There." Massimo pointed to the upcoming door. "It should be quiet."

He opened the door for me, but I stopped him from entering.

"I'll be just a minute." My eyes pleaded.

Taking one look at me, he nodded. But he didn't move. Instead, he scanned the empty room. I, too, turned and faced a closed stall.