22

Valentina

Here I am again, staring at my reflection in the mirror, the ivory Vera Wang gown designed for me, hugging every curve like a second skin. The intricate beading would have taken hundreds of hours to apply and the pleated tulle skirt looks as though it swallowed a marshmallow and burst from the sugar overload. To be honest, whoever chose this design, chose well. This is exactly what I would have picked for myself if this were a real wedding. I swish the full skirt as the melodic beat of Prisoner by Raphael Lake plays in the background, setting the mood for the day perfectly. It hums inside my head, like a bad omen, my desire to break free and escape taunting me.

Yawning, I glance down at the tray of breakfast, readily made for me with all my favorite trimmings. I scoop up a pancake with my fingers, melted butter and maple syrup dripping everywhere. I lean over as I take a massive bite, hoping I don’t get any on the dress before placing the rest back on the plate and wiping my fingers in a napkin. I wash it down with a big gulp of strong coffee and hope the sugar and caffeine keep me awake.

I’m so tired, I barely slept last night, the nervous and angry jitters keeping both my mind and body on edge. At five in the morning, Vana had appeared with a herd of stylists and hairdressers hot on her heels. They primed and prepped every inch of me, transforming me from the sulky and defiant Valentina Mancini to the Mob Princess everyone expects me to be. On the outside, I look like any other blushing bride, but on the inside is a completely different story.

My fingers run over the healing wound where Giovanni left his mark, the anger still fresh, and the urge to burn his face off ever-present. I haven’t spoken to him or seen him since that night, and I’m itching to face off at the altar. These fuckers think I’m going to go down without a fight, they’re going to be rudely surprised later today.

I walk over to my drawers and take out my purple blade, twisting it through my fingers, contemplating taking it with me to the ceremony. But I decide against it and place it back safely in my drawer. What I want to do to Giovanni will not require a blade.

I spot the note cards left by my secret enemy and pick them up, sniffing them for any lingering scents of someone I might know. My fingers run over the dried bloody scrawl, their secrets are hidden beneath their meaning, and not one of us an inch closer to finding out who sent them. Both, Leonardo and my cousin, Rico have been working behind the scenes with their men, riffling through the little information they have. Even the security footage is useless, the culprit disguising themselves to look like me.

Frustration doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling. I’m stuck here at home again and who fucking knows where I will be living after tonight. At least my puppies are back home with me, here in our guarded estate. I was such a moron for taking them out of here, thinking that they were safe anywhere else. If the asshole that had painted my Verona dorm room had gotten a hold of my dogs, I don’t know what I would have done.

The sound of a horn brings me back from my thoughts and I realize the time to go has crept up on me. Glancing around my room, I take in all that was my childhood, and all that will soon be my past. The limousine sits out front, waiting for me to emerge from my room where I’ve been holed up since last night. It occurs to me that none of my friends will be there. Apart from family, I won’t know any of the guests.

“Mom, if you’re listening. This is not how this was supposed to go. But I promise I will end the fucker that murdered you.” I grip the diamond necklace around my neck and feel its grounding effects. “I can do this.” I blow out a breath through pursed lips and switch off my music. Shoving a huge piece of pancake in my mouth before I head downstairs, I take one last glance at my room and catalog the image with the rest of my past.

Papa is waiting at the bottom of the stairs and his face lights up in astonishment as I make my way down. I take careful steps, holding the front of my dress in my hand, ensuring I don’t trip in my Gucci bridal shoes.

Papa holds his hand out for me and I take it, letting him lead me around in a circle so he can get a better look at me.

“Your mother would be so proud of you,” he chokes up and pulls me into his embrace.

“Oh, Papa, don’t make me cry, I’ll ruin my makeup.” I hug him back.

He doesn’t speak of my mom ever, talking about her is too hard for him. His guilt these past few years, for what happened to her, eats at him to this day. I’ll never know why he never went after the vile fuckers who murdered her? Even when I tried to tell him I saw some of their faces, he dismissed me and sent me to therapy instead, and made me promise to never tell a soul of what happened that day.

He lets go of me and ushers me outside, where Vito, Rico, and Dante are all waiting beside the limousine. Vito strides up to me and grips me in an intense hug, his arms almost squeeze the air out of my lungs, and I tap him on the arm to tell him to ease up.

He steps back and takes my hands in his. “That Giovanni is one lucky son of a bitch. Even if this is all bullshit.” He winks at me and I see Papa give him a look from the corner of my eye.

“Fucking eh’, he is,” I laugh, trying to ease the tension coiling in my gut.

“Seriously though, we’re all here if you need us. Just a phone call away, if you ever need anything. Family first.” He fist-bumps me and I want to cry. Cry for what seems like a fucking ending, like I’m going to my own funeral.

“Okay, enough of the mushy shit. Let’s get going.” Dante ushers me away from Papa and Vito and into the back of the car.

“Thanks, dude. Can’t let anyone see this cold hard bitch cry on her fake wedding day.” I wink at him.

“I’ll see you at the church.” He kisses my hand and closes the door after me.

Papa, and Vito, seat themselves opposite me and then we’re off, heading toward my fake ass wedding. The nerves in my gut run rampant, and I have no idea why I’m so fucking nervous, but I lean forward and grab my bag from next to Vito to dig out my cigarettes.

“Don’t even think about commenting.” I glare at Papa, who zips his lips but still looks disappointed.

I chain smoke my way through about five cigarettes before we’re stopping for some unknown reason. Vito looks out the windows, trying to see what the hold-up is, when the divider between the driver and us starts to go down.

“Sir, we seem to have a problem,” the driver glances over his shoulder and shoots Papa a look.

“Put the divider back up,” Papa orders and proceeds to climb out of the car with Vito on his heels.

My skin itches to get out and see what the fuck is going on, but the fucking driver locks the doors and windows. Shit. I scramble to the other side of the seat to get a better angle.

“Let me out,” I shout at the driver, who fucking ignores me.

I hear muffled voices and scuffling, followed by a torrent of gunfire and my heart leaps into my throat. I tug on the door handle, trying to break free.

“Vito!” I scream and kick at the shatterproof glass. “Fucking let me out,” I smash my fist against the divider, making my knuckles scream from the impact.

Silence fills the void and I sit in the middle of the limousine, helpless, feeling like I could be out there saving my family. More muffled voices and the whole car rocks as someone gets thrown against it. I try the doors again but they don’t budge.

“Fuck!” I growl in frustration.

Someone’s head gets slammed against the window to my left, their face turning white from the force. I hear a groan escape their lips and the low thuds as they get repeatedly punched.

“Vito, let me out.” I slap at the window, when all of a sudden the face disappears, and the door is opening.

“What the fuck?” I shout as I get hauled out of the car by Papa.

“Do you know this woman?” Papa grabs her hair and angles her face at me.

“Emma? Fuck, let her go” I try to pry Vito’s grip from her arms.

I hear a distinct low growl and I instantly recognize Storm’s defensive warning. I turn in what seems like slow motion to see my puppies on a lead being held by Rico.

“Oh my god.” I scramble toward them, my heels getting ruined by the dirt road, and my dress getting stained from dragging along the ground. “Are you okay? Oh my god.” I bend down and hug them as they jump all over me, ruining my dress. But I don’t give a fuck at this point. I just want to know what the fuck is going on.

“They’re okay, Valentina.” Rico touches my shoulder and pulls me upright.

“What the fuck is going on?” I turn to see that Vito has Emma’s arms pulled tight behind her back. I scan the area and our cavalcade of stretch limousines all line up in a neat row. I spot two black Escalades out the front of our cars, forming a barrier, with dead bodies scattered near their tires.

“Care to elaborate, you filthy bitch.” Vito jerks Emma’s arms and kicks her in the back of the legs.

“Fuck,” Emma cries out in pain and her head slumps forward, a trail of blood oozing from her nose and down over her lips and chin.

“Emma?” I stride toward her. “What have you done?”

She gazes up at me, an evil smirk plastered on her bloodied face. “I failed, so who fucking cares,” she laughs manically.

I glance at Vito, hoping he has answers. He gives her a rough shake, making her look like a bobblehead. “Spit it out,” he growls.

“I was meant to marry him, not you,” she screeches and lunges for me but is jerked back by Vito.

“What?” I look at Papa, he’s shaking his head in frustration.

“You fucking spoilt little bitch, you get everything. I was supposed to fucking marry him. I was supposed to be spared. Fuck you,” she spits at me, narrowly missing my dress.

“I’m so fucking confused.” I look at her, almost sympathetically. “Why the fuck do you have my dogs?” I want to slap her myself for taking my babies.

“I was going to slaughter them and deliver their pieces to you.” She licks her lips and laughs like a fucking crazy clown at a horror circus. “I sent you the notes and the Irish mob to roughen you up. I painted your fucking dorm in blood-red because goody two shoes, Summer, decided to take your fucking mutts to her big bad boyfriend’s house. Fucking miss prissy bitch thwarted my plans.”

I punch her as hard as I can and watch her head snap to the side, her body held firm in my brother’s grip. “Fuck with my dogs, family, or friends and you’re null and void.” I nod to Dante.

Vito throws Emma to the ground, she lands face-first into the gravel, ripping the skin off her cheek and nose. She groans and manages to roll onto her back.

“Fuck you, you’ll get what’s coming to you. They don’t fucking care who puts a ring on your finger anymore. Fucking kill me!” She screams at us like she’s possessed by a poltergeist.

The sound of a gunshot echoes in the clearing, I look down at her, and at the perfectly placed bullet hole in the center of her forehead.


“You always did have the best aim,” I say and glance at Dante.

“Everyone back in the car.” Papa tries to avoid the obvious questions I’m about to bombard him with.

“Storm and Midnight are coming with us.” I whistle to them, and as much as Rico tries to control them, they break loose from his grip and come sit beside me.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Papa frowns at me and the mess I’ve made of my dress.

“Come on girls, in the car.” I lead them to the door and tell them to sit on the seat next to me.

I watch Papa jump on his phone to organize the clean-up before he reluctantly climbs into the car with me and the girls. Storm naturally growls as soon as he sits but I hush her with a scratch behind the ears.

Vito climbs in and seats himself next to Papa. “What the hell was that crazy bitch talking about?” Vito glares at Papa.

“Nothing to be concerned about. She obviously had a thing for Giovanni or was ill.” Papa leaves his explanation at that. End of conversation.

“I’ve known her for a while now, I don’t think she was ill, Papa.” I try to get his attention but he’s too busy shooting texts off to God knows who. “Papa,” I say louder and get him to look at me. “What did she mean by they don’t care who puts a ring on your finger?”

“Sweetheart, I have no idea what that delusional girl was talking about. She was obviously jealous of you and wanted to harm you. End of story. Can we move on now and get this wedding over with?” His attention returns to his phone.

“What the hell am I going to tell Summer and Amber. Fuck,” I groan as the bodies around me slowly start tallying up. Now I know what Leonardo meant when he said he doesn’t have enough skin to mark his victories.

“The truth.” Vito shrugs.

“The truth.” I mimic him and laugh.

Maybe Emma’s crazy was catchy because I’m starting to feel like my world is spinning out of my control and there’s no one in the driver’s seat anymore. I’m dying for another Marlboro but I wouldn’t ever smoke with my babies in the same confined space.

“I love you.” I scratch them behind the ears and kiss their faces as the driver closes in on our destination.