Empire

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Like I deserved it.

  Because to them, I was precious. I was a promise. I was everything.

  I think in that moment, I shed the last part of my innocence, knowing fully that I was entering into a sacred bond, not just with Sergio, but with The Family, with the idea that my father had left behind.

  One of peace.

  Love.

  One where blood was only spilled out of necessity.

  Dante was at the front of the church with the rest of the men; they waited near Sergio.

  Once Frank stepped out of the way, I noticed I was nearly at the end of the aisle.

  Sergio’s eyes were closed like he was in pain.

  My heart sliced in two.

  Because even though I wanted to understand, how could I? He’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved after a ceremony like this — and there I was. The exact opposite, young, innocent, everything he didn’t want, but had to take.

  Because of his honor.

  I respected him for it.

  And I knew I would end up loving him.

  I was already halfway there.

  Yes, it was time to shed the old me and step into a new reality, a new life, because some stories aren’t filled with instant love or happily ever afters where all it takes is one kiss to seal the affection between two people.

  Sometimes it’s work.

  Sometimes it’s painful.

  Our love would be ugly, deformed, awkward. It would be so many things, but I hoped, that in the end, above all else, it would be good enough.

  Not just good.

  Not even amazing.

  But good enough, so that at least I was in a marriage where we had respect, friendship, it was all I felt right in asking for.

  Sergio’s hands shook at his sides.

  Frank turned and lifted my veil from my face kissing each cheek and then whispering a blessing in my ear.

  Sal did the same, followed by Papi. When it was Gio’s turn, he hesitated.

  I grabbed his hands as tears filled his eyes.

  I was close to all of them, but Gio… Gio had always been my rock. He’d held my hand when my first real friend in high school moved away.

  When she stopped writing me emails, he told me I’d find better friends at college.

  When Dante was being stupid, as brothers are prone to be, he talked me through the most traumatic conversation I’d ever had, to date, about guys and hormones.

  He thought if he just brought in movies and drew pictures, I’d be okay with the fact that my brother was acting like a jackass.

  Halfway through our “talk” we were both so traumatized we swore never to speak of it again.

  Gio made sure I ate.

  Gio was like an Italian grandmother stuffed into the body of a lean, seventy-year-old man with a secret addiction to Cuban cigars.

  His hair was nearly completely gray, his face had aged better than the rest of him, but the worry lines around his mouth deepened as he leaned forward and whispered near my ear, “Just say the word and I’ll get you out.”

  Surprised, I pulled him in for a tight hug. “No. This is what my father would have wanted.”

  “That does not make this choice easier,” he said in a pained voice as he hugged me tight and then kissed both cheeks. A single tear splashed onto his lips as they trembled. “You are my girl.”

  “I am.”

  “Be strong.”

  “I will.”

  “You are my girl,” he repeated. “I die for you, yes?”

  “Yes.” My voice quivered.

  “He treats you bad, I come with the gun, capiche?”

  “Capiche.” I half sobbed half laughed.

  With a grunt, he kissed my nose and joined the rest of the men.

  Phoenix, Tex, Nixon, and Chase were to the left with the rest of the Alferos while Dante was to the right with Sergio.

  When my gaze finally fell to the man I was going to marry, I expected him to still have his eyes closed — after all, he didn’t want this, maybe that was the only way he could go through it.

  Instead, his eyes were fixated on me.

  White-hot intensity radiated off of him in waves.

  When our hands touched, his were warm, not clammy. Strong fingers wrapped around mine.

  This is happening.

  This is happening.

  As the priest made a cross with his incense, he began reciting scripture in Italian. I picked out a few words.

  The greetings and prayer flew by, and suddenly the Priest was asking in English if we were of sound mind.

  Hah, probably not.

  Sergio’s lips twitched as we both stated that we were in fact, sane and were not entering into the holy sanction of marriage lightly.

  “Sergio…” The priest’s accent was so thick even his English was hard to decipher. “Do you take…” I was going to hyperventilate, he talked so fast, it was happening so fast. “Till death do you part?”

  Blue eyes blinked at me, slowly, methodically, intensely as Sergio answered. “I vow… till death—” his voice cracked “—do we part.”

  It was my turn.

  My voice was small when I answered the same, I felt odd saying yes, when Sergio actually repeated the last part.

  Till death do we part.

  Terrifying, to think, it would actually be a very real possibility that one of us would die before the other — chances were most likely him, considering his line of work.

  I didn’t like it.

  Thinking about death when I should be thinking about life.

  I clenched his hands tighter.

  “And now a blessing.” The Priest raised his hands. “From a friend.”

  Sergio’s composure slipped, just barely, as the priest walked away and someone else replaced him.

  A tall, dark, and extremely good-looking man with tattoos on his knuckles, and a very familiar face stood before us.

  He cleared his throat. “May this new union provide the two of you with the love and laughter you both deserve, may God keep you safe, may God unite our families for as long as He will allow it. May you honor each other, respect one another, die for one another, live for one another. This is the wish of my family, my friends.” His hands shook, just once, then he cleared his throat and continued. “This is the final wish and will from Andi Abandonato as read by Nikolai Blazik.”

  Sergio’s eyes filled with tears.

  I wasn’t worthy.

  I would never be worthy of a man who was loved that much.

  But suddenly, I was okay with it, because her love and devotion for him after only a few months showed me he was worthy.

  Sergio was worthy.

  And so deserving.

  Of everything I had to offer him.

  And I’d give all.

  Because she had died wishing she could.

  And it was my privilege to be able to pick up where she left off.

  Nikolai nodded at both of us and joined Nixon’s right side. The men shook hands as the priest held his arms above our head and continued the ceremony in Italian.

  We exchanged rings — rings I’d never seen before. On repeating the words, they took new meaning for me; my life had a new meaning.

  “Friends, let us bless the unity of these families, may they strengthen and protect us, forever.” The priest spoke in Italian again.

  “Amen,” rumbled the collective murmur through the sanctuary.

  “I now I present, Mr. Sergio and Mrs. Valentina Abandonato, may our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ bless and keep you, forever and ever. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Everyone made a quick sign of the cross then stood and kissed their right hands and placed it on their heart.

  I didn’t know what I felt as people started clapping.

  Sergio gripped my hand in his then turned me to face him, his lips met mine in a brief kiss before he led me down the aisle.

  I was married.

  Married.

  At nineteen.

  To a killer wit
h gorgeous eyes and a burdened heart.

  Not necessarily how I had envisioned my story going.

  “Be well!” Gio met us in the back of the church with tears in his eyes. “I will miss you.”

  “Miss me?” I repeated. “I don’t—”

  “Have fun!” Frank winked.

  “Fun?”

  Dante elbowed me then tossed rice into the air, a handful of it landed in my hair. “For the record, she’s still my sister.” I think that was directed at Sergio.

  “Adios!” Tex winked. “Make sure to relax, Serg.”

  Sergio said nothing.

  We were rushed toward a waiting limo, and nobody was talking, other than telling me to have fun. Were they talking about tonight?

  Heat rushed into my face until I felt like I was on fire.

  My embarrassment must have been noticeable because under his breath Sergio whispered, “Don’t worry.”

  My view of the limo was suddenly blocked as a man stepped in front of us. The same one who had read the letter from Andi. He was the type of guy who oozed power and sexuality, but in a totally obvious and over-the-top way. I felt like if I looked at him directly in the eyes I’d lose my soul or something, like he’d see too much, see my insecurities, and tell everyone within hearing distance.

  Finally, not wanting to be rude, I stole a glance at him, a real long glance.

  He looked vaguely familiar.

  But I couldn’t place him.

  Frowning, I stared harder.

  Nikolai’s eyes met mine, and then he quickly averted them and held out his hand to Sergio. “She would have been happy.”

  “I know,” Sergio said in a low voice.

  “My offer still stands.” He gave me a pitiful stare before looking back at Sergio. “It will always stand.”

  “And I’ll always say no.” Sergio slapped him on the back then pulled him in for a hug. “Go back to the wife.”

  “The wife.” Nikolai chuckled loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “And we did?” Sergio countered. “By the way, Xavier’s been giving us a bit of trouble.”

  “Shall I hurt him for you?” Nikolai asked.

  Sergio paused, his hand gripped mine hard. “He’s fine. For now. Perhaps later we’ll have dinner.”

  “You know where to find me.” Nikolai shook his hand one last time then walked off.

  I frowned after him.

  “Sorry,” Sergio apologized. “He has no bedside manner.”

  “No… that’s not it.” I swallowed, my gaze still stuck on his disappearing form. “He looks familiar.”

  “Well he won the Pulitzer as a teenager, that could be it. Was on the cover of Time.”

  “No, not that kind of familiar, but—” I shook my head, “—never mind. So, why do people keep telling me to have fun?”

  Sergio opened the limo door and pointed inside. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s kind of funny.” His smile was small. “Did you say your goodbyes?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good.” He shut the door before I could keep talking. Irritated, I rolled down the window as Sal, Papi, and Gio walked over. “Where am I going?”

  “It would be a horrible surprise if we told you.” Gio winked.

  Papi’s eyes shone with tears. “You be a good girl, Val.”

  “Eat!” Sal added. “You must eat!”

  “Sweet potatoes,” Gio said in a serious voice. “They help the eggs.”

  “Eggs?” I repeated. “What eggs?”

  Papi blushed and whispered, “Yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “For the children,” Sal explained. “We pray for a fertile womb.”

  Oh please don’t. “I’m only nineteen! Let Dante pop out kids!”

  “That is not man’s job.” Gio frowned and then snapped his fingers. “After the act is done, be sure to wait at least five minutes and then drink carrot juice. You will be pregnant in no time!”

  Note to self, jump out of bed and stay away from all vegetable juice. “Right. Well, thanks.”

  Sergio got in on the other side and slid across, then he reached for my hand and didn’t let go.

  Gio poked his head through the limo window. “I almost forget. Men, they sometimes have minds of their own. He scares you with his…” He didn’t say the word. I thanked God. “…manliness, you just kick him. It may — it may not feel good—”

  “Okay!” I practically shoved him out of the window. “Bye now, love you!”

  “But Val this is very important, this talk! We must have this talk! Remember the pictures I drew!”

  I hit the window so it would go up and blew them all kisses. “I love you guys!”

  Once the car started to pull away, Sergio turned to me and smirked. “Pictures, huh?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Do you still have the pictures?”

  “Sergio,” I warned, face prickling with embarrassment.

  “Did you help draw the pictures or were you simply an observer?”

  “Are you done yet?”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever be done with this conversation. Ten years from now I’m still going to ask. Fifteen years from now, I’m going to damn well demand you show me what has you looking like sex is the most terrifying thing on the planet.”

  I didn’t respond.

  We sat in silence as the limo drove through Manhattan.

  “A year ago, sex with me would have been terrifying,” he said quietly. “I would have taken you hard.”

  A part of me was intrigued while the other part was still so embarrassed I was tempted to jump out of the moving vehicle.

  “And now?” I just had to ask.

  He didn’t speak for a few minutes. Maybe I hadn’t said it loud enough. I turned to ask again, only to find him staring intently at me.

  Licking his lips he leaned forward, his left hand reached for my face and then stopped as his fingertips danced across my bottom lip. “Slow.”

  “Wh-hat?”

  He pulled back. “I felt like the villain today.”

  “You’re not—”

  “I am.” He looked away. “In a way I always will be. But, that doesn’t mean you have to play hero to my villain, Val.” His eyes met mine briefly. “I’m going to try… and though you may never have my heart… I promise you one thing.”

  “What?” My voice was hoarse.

  “You will always have my body.”

  I am slow of study. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Sergio

  YEAH, ROMANCE WAS lost on me. Didn’t Andi say those very words a few months ago, when I offered to shoot her twenty-four hours before our wedding? Damn, I was a dick.

  I wanted to do better.

  It wasn’t a second chance, at least not in the way that a person would think. Hell, I would have said no if I was offered to me, and I actually had the option of saying no, but since it was a forced yes, I wanted to do right by her.

  And after reading Andi’s letter, I had felt ashamed at the way I’d been acting, but my emotions refused to stay in check where Val was concerned. She confused me, tied me up in knots, and oddly, had me feeling the most vulnerable I ever had in my entire life.

  I hadn’t deserved Andi.

  I sure as hell didn’t deserve Val.

  Was God insane? Was this some cruel joke to make me change my ways? Give me two of the most incredible women in existence? But make it impossible to love them. Take the first away, and create a pain so swift, so strong, that I had nothing left for the next.

  I glanced at Val out of the corner of my eye.

  In another life, I could love her. Truly love her.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Bitterness threatened to take over as we took the exit for JFK.

  The privacy shield slid down. ““Sir, we’ve had the same car tailing us for the last ten miles, thought you should know.”

 
; I gritted my teeth. “How close are we to the airport?”

  “A few miles out, but with this traffic…”

  The shield went back up. We came to a screeching halt as the light turned red; cars were jammed all around us. I turned around. Two large men stepped out of a car and started jogging toward us.

  “Well, shit,” I muttered, quickly peeling my jacket off and undoing my cufflinks.

  “Sergio?” Val’s eyes were wide. “What’s going on.”

  “Remember?” I flipped up the seat cushion on the left and pulled out two smaller Glocks. “When Chase showed you how to point a gun?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “If something happens, you point the gun and you shoot, you shoot until you’re sure, got it?” I shoved a gun into her hand and knocked twice on the shield. It rolled down.

  And I was already too late.

  The sound of gunfire filled the car.

  Our driver, a newer associate in his twenties, had just been shot in the head. I barely had time to push the screen back up before more shots were fired.

  We weren’t in a bulletproof car, I wasn’t a boss, I hadn’t thought it necessary. If I died, so what?

  But if Val died.

  Damn it.

  A war.

  More war.

  When would the families ever learn?

  What the hell was wrong with wanting peace?

  A bullet hit the side window by Val’s head, I pulled her down to the floor of the limo as more bullets went flying above us. Glass crashed all over my body.

  I motioned for Val to be quiet.

  The shooting stopped.

  The guys were amateurs at best. You never stopped, only when the car was a hole. You stopped to set the car on fire. You stopped to place a bomb, you didn’t stop because you thought you hit your targets. You never stopped.

  The passenger door opened and I fired a shot out.

  A rough curse was emitted, and then more shots were fired at the car.

  Val didn’t cry.

  She didn’t scream.

  She was deathly silent, her eyes locked on mine, afraid, but so trusting my heart ached.

  Her eyes said, you’ll get us out of this.

  It’s going to be okay.

  I trust you.

  While I was at a loss of what we could do, of what I could do without injuring myself or putting her in more danger.