23

Valentina

Standing out the front of St Patrick’s Cathedral with its large double doors open, inviting me in, and the New York traffic buzzing past, I hear my name being called over the noise of the cars passing. I turn toward the person and spot a dozen paparazzi all lined up behind the red rope, trying to get the best photograph. I smile at them and wonder if this is my life now.

“You look beautiful, my girl. Your mom is here in spirit, always watching over you.” Papa holds his arm out for me to take.

I look at him, like really look at him, and wonder what is going through his head at this moment. I wonder if he thought this was how he was going to give his daughter away. I guess in this lifestyle, nothing is normal, and every day is savored as we’re not guaranteed it.

“Thanks, Papa.” I link my arm in his and lean up to kiss his cheek.

Midnight whines next to me, I know she’s getting impatient and wants a snack. We’ve had to wait for Vito and my cousins to take their positions inside before Papa and I can get this over with.

“Ready?” Papa squeezes my hand that’s holding onto his arm for dear life.

“No, but let's do this,” I sigh, and wish I could text Leonardo or Summer right about now.

We enter through the large doors and a quiet hush envelops the whole church. I hear faint whispers as the gathered crowd turns to gawk at us walking down the aisle. The church organ starts up, with the traditional wedding march, and I want to groan out loud. Who the fuck picked this shit?

My eyes scan the room and I see smiling faces, hardly any of which I recognize, until they land on him. Giovanni Romano, my soon-to-be husband, standing at the altar looking every part Mafioso. His face is hard, his shoulders fill out his tailored suit like no one I’ve seen before. He is the epitome of a wet dream and about to be mine until death do us part.

I don’t even notice we reach the altar until Papa’s hand grips mine one last time, before handing it over to Giovanni. I can hear my heart thudding in my ears and my mouth is bone dry, I try to swallow, but it feels as though my tongue is going to get stuck against the roof of my mouth.

“Eyes on me, Principessa,” his voice breaks my concentration and I glance up at him and his cocky smirk. “I didn’t think you’d go through with this.”

“I have a bone to pick with you,” I whisper, and poke him in the chest. Finally finding my train of thought.

“I’ve been waiting patiently for your wrath.” The dark glint in his eyes is back, making me want to poke them out.

The priest clears his throat and we both jerk our heads to look at him. “May we proceed?” He asks in his strong Bostonian accent.

“By all means.” I tilt my head at him and smile politely.

There’s a commotion in the back, as the doors fly open, and a team of heavily armed police in SWAT gear circle around the pews and position themselves evenly between the rows. They just keep coming in as we stand at the altar watching.

Both Midnight and Storm whine from the back of the church and Rico has a hard time keeping them still. My eyes connect with Papa’s as he sits in his seat next to Vito, not moving, he nods once to me to let me know everything will be alright.

The crowd starts to stand, and the hushed sounds from all the movement and talking fills the church space. We are surrounded as ten men in suits march in and head straight for Papa, Vito, and Dante. Two are stationed in front of Rico, but Midnight and Storm won’t allow them near him.

It all happens in a blinding blur of movement.

“Stop!” I shout as they handcuff Papa, Vito, and Dante.

I scramble down the few steps of the altar, kick off my stupid heels, and grab a hold of the police officer who has handcuffed Vito. “You’ve got the wrong people. Let them go.” I pull on his arm in a desperate attempt to stop him.

“Please, Miss, let go of me.” The officer looks down at me, annoyed a fuck.

“They haven’t done anything.” I glare back at him.

“Valentina, leave it. Let these men do their job.” Papa, calm as ever, shoots me one of his glares

I step back and watch on as the officers start to lead the men in my life away from me. I slice my eyes to Rico, who is also now handcuffed, a look of apology on his face. He mouths sorry as I realize my two dogs are nowhere to be seen. My gut wrenches and I turn to Papa, torn as to whether I should run after Storm and Midnight, or stay and watch my family be arrested. I’m momentarily distracted by Papa’s dominating voice as he speaks to the officers.

“Give me the respect to say a proper goodbye to my daughter,” Papa’s tone is even and calm. The dirty cop uncuffs him and nods to allow him to approach me.

Dread rises up my chest, just about ready to burst through my flesh, when Papa’s eyes catch mine.

“Don’t be afraid, Principessa.” He strides to me, placing his large palms on my cheeks.

“No, Papa.” I suck in a sob and hold on to him for support.

“Shhh, sweetheart, everything will be ok.” He pulls me into him and wraps his strong arms around me, cradling me into his chest like when I was a child. “You need to be strong for us.”

His hand strokes my hair, and the familiar scent of his cologne engraves itself into my heart.

“Papa,” I choke.

“Don’t give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing you cry,” he growls and pulls me away from him. “Valentina, my Principessa, you need to hold your shit together. We need you to hold this family together. We’ll be fine. Do you understand?” He grips my arms in his strong fingers. “Answer me.”

I nod and swallow the thick saliva pooling in my mouth. “I understand.”

“I’ve trained you for this, from the beginning. You can do this. You are the head of the family until we get released.” He leans in and kisses my forehead once, twice, and finally a third time before he’s dragged away from me.

“I love you, Vito. I love you, Dante. I love you, Rico. Papa,” my voice gets lost in my sob as I watch the men in my life get lead away.

The noise in the church is deafening, as the guests all scramble to leave, afraid they’re next in line to be arrested. With my heart heavy in my chest, I beeline for the church doors, desperate to find my two dogs.

I don’t look back at the mayhem behind me and I’ve lost sight of Giovanni, but right now all I need is to find my babies. Just as I make it through the doors, I’m jerked back as a hand slaps over my mouth, pulling me backward into strong arms.

I thrash in their grip, trying to fee myself when a loud crack splits through my head and it’s the last thing I remember.

_ _ _

Moving is proving difficult as I come to and my eyes adjust to the darkness that surrounds me. The gag in my mouth is soaked in my saliva and tastes like an old man’s ass crack. The throb in my head thuds in time with my heartbeat, each pounding ache sending waves of nausea through me. I jerk my arms but they’re tied behind my back, and my ankles are secured to the legs of the chair. The numbness in my limbs hints at how long I’ve been knocked out.

“Fuck,” I scream, but it comes out a garbled mess.

I glance down and I’m still wearing my wedding dress, the rips and dark smears from fuck knows what, add to the decorative beading. A ball of fire erupts in my chest once I realize where I am.

I still, not wanting to move, not wanting to draw attention to myself but let my gaze scan the room. Mould clings to the damp walls in slimy patches, and the strong distinct scent of rotting flesh makes me gag. I can’t see the dead body but I know it's been left here to rot for some time.

A man in a suit enters, his face is concealed under a balaclava, his strong cologne barely masking the rotting flesh smell. He strides up to me, bends down so his eyes are level with mine, and he winks. I throw my head forward trying to headbutt him, but he’s out of my reach.

“Feisty little bitch, aren’t you?” He chuckles, his whispered voice sends tingles up and down my spine.

I can feel his hatred and anger, mixed with ice-cold antagonism permeate the damp air of the cell. I stare at his every move, not letting him out of my sight, and watch him stride to the side of the room and drag down a screen from the ceiling. His movements are fluid as he makes his way back toward me, the set of his shoulders stirs an unwanted familiarity.

“So, Principessa, you seem to have fucked up my plans,” he growls, and backhands me, the sting making my eyes water.

“Fuck you,” I mumble through the gag, which makes him tilt his head and study me.

He lifts his arm, the movement reveals a gold watch on his wrist, making my heart jackknife in my chest. I struggle against the restraints and nearly tip the chair to the side but he catches me, his hand so close to my throat. My breath heaves as I try to ignore the closeness of him and glare up at him in pure hatred.

He removes his balaclava and studies me, his face just inches from mine. “Are you going to scream like your mother?” He taps me on the nose and winks.

Mother fucking Tommaso Romano got the upper hand. He and his evil ways are never going to be stopped. I want to rip out of my skin and strangle him with my bare hands, but all I can do is stew in my silence. I won’t give him the satisfaction of making me scream. He can go fuck himself if he thinks I’ll break.

“So, Principessa, you must have a million and one questions.” He stands up and taps his forefinger on his chin. “I’ll answer a few for you, then I have a little surprise.” His eyes light up in crazy amusement.