by Ava Catori
I took her hand and brought it to my lips. "You look lovely, Isabella."
Stiff in her movements, she shrugged away the compliment. The fact was plain to see that she hadn't made any special effort to look attractive. Her face was devoid of makeup and her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. It made her look even younger than she had at her grandfather's funeral. It didn’t matter; she was a natural beauty, makeup or no makeup.
Isabella looked to her father. He nodded gravely and gave her a hug. No words were spoken. We walked to the door together. The poor guy looked as if he was leading a pet lamb to slaughter.
Feeling sorry for both of them for a second, I didn't resist the urge to reassure him, "She'll be safe with me."
"I'm sure she will be," he said. The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. His resentment, initially hidden, was now palpable.
After walking Isabella to my car, I drove to a nice restaurant in the Hills. I wasn’t taking her to one of my usual hangouts, but instead had chosen a classy place. I picked it because it boasted, in addition to great reviews for its fancy fusion cuisine in a cozy setting, live jazz music and a tiny dance floor.
She remained silent during the short drive and even after we reached our table. I watched her as she studied the menu attentively until the waiter came to recite the specials of the day. Isabella folded her menu and looked to me when he asked her if she’d made a choice.
"Why don't you choose," she said without a trace of warmth in her voice, taking the waiter and me by surprise. Refusing to be taken aback by her icy tone, I ordered the specials of the day and a bottle of white wine.
I waited for our server to leave the table. "Isabella, I understand this is an awkward situation, but I trust we're going to make the best of it."
She turned her head slowly and glared at me, then waited for me to continue.
"Do you have any questions? You can ask me anything. I'm an open book."
She thought about it for a couple of seconds. The corner of her lips twitched, but not enough to form a real smile. "Fine. What am I to call you when we're in public?"
"Well, in public and private, that would be Gino. What about you? Do you like Isabella or do you favor a nickname? I heard your father call you Bella."
"Isabella if you don't mind." Her tone was flat.
"Okay, Isabella it is then." I placed my hand over hers. She tried to move away but I trapped it, lacing our fingers together.
Frowning, she looked up and said, "Please, don't."
I shook my head, letting her know we weren’t finished here. "I’ll let go in a minute, but first I need you to listen to me."
Her gaze dropped to our hands. While waiting for her to look at me again, I searched for the right words. I wanted to give her the lay of the land. She was going to be mine, and since there was no way for her to escape, her best option was to get on with the program. But even though I wasn't a master in women's psychology, I knew better than to present it to her that way.
When her eyes finally came up again to look into mine, I found the words I’d been searching for.
"I understand this is probably not the future you’d imagined, but if you give me a chance, I’d like nothing more than to make you happy. If you help me, I promise you I’ll do what I can to give you a good life."
She blinked a few times and as soon as I loosened my grip, freed her hand from mine. Taking a deep breath, she finally opened a bit.
"But you see, Gino, that's precisely the problem. I never wanted a knight in shining armor to come and sweep me away. I never wanted someone to give me a good life. I expected to build my life myself, piece by piece. I suspected I’d advance, stumble, fall, pick myself up and then try again."
"Fair enough, I can respect that," I answered. "But let me ask you something. You never considered the possibility of picking up a partner somewhere along the way?"
She shook her head but didn't answer, taking this to mean that, of course, she had. I continued, "Well, I’d like to be your partner. I can't be if you won't talk to me."
We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds until the waiter came with our wine and a basket of breads.
Isabella stared into the distance silently. I knew she heard what I said. I’d give her time to process it all. I was in no hurry. We had a lifetime ahead of us.
* * *
7
Isabella
I reached for the glass of wine that sat in front of me and cupped the base of the curve in my hand. I needed to find some sort of acceptance, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Lifting the glass to my lips, I took a sip.
I guessed the classier the place was, the less they card people. They hadn’t even asked if I was of legal age to drink. Or was it that when Gino was there, people didn’t ask questions?
Whatever the case, a few sips of wine would help calm my nerves.
Gino wanted to talk, and acted like this was some kind of normal date. I wasn’t ready to play the game. I was still swallowing the bitter pill of an impending marriage to a man I didn't know, all to keep my father alive. How did he expect me to behave?
The gravity of the situation overwhelmed me. I had a job to do. I was saving my father, keeping him alive. What if Gino rejected me after all this, and they still took out the hit on my father? I forced myself to grasp my new reality. I needed to participate, before there was no other option. Resentment sat stiffly in my shoulders, but it wouldn’t do me any favors. It was time to play my part.
I excused myself and went to the ladies room. Studying my image in the bathroom mirror, I knew what I had to do. I reached up and pulled the elastic band out of my hair, allowing it to cascade past my shoulders. Attempting to give it some life, I ran my fingers through my curls, puffing them out. With a sense of responsibility, I turned and left the safety of the restroom.
His smile on seeing my return, along with the effort to go along with the plan went a long way toward showing my cooperation. It's not that he wasn't a handsome man; he was, in a dark way. And yet, the armor I'd worn wouldn't allow me to notice the strong body and broad shoulders housed by his clothing.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked, but it wasn't truly a question. It was more of a statement. He raised and took my hand without waiting for me to answer.
I followed a step behind as he led me to the small wooden floor set aside for lovers to sway in each other's arms. Soft jazz filled the room. An ageless pianist blended seamlessly with the music as he played a large black polished piano off to the side. It wasn't a grand piano, but more like a baby grand. The man was lost in his song, running his fingers across the keys. Coming to a close, he moved directly into the next piece.
The first notes of "At Last" by Etta James sounded as we stepped closer. Gino slipped his hand around my waist and placed the other on my shoulder. He left me breathing space, and didn't pull me tightly. I tensed at his touch, not meaning for it to show. He read my body language and loosened his hand around my waist. I drew a deep breath in and pressed closer to him. I'd at least try. His body was hard beneath his clothing. He took good care of himself. At least he wasn't some slobbering fool, fifty years my senior. I could have done worse. I wondered how many years older than me he was? I was guessing ten at most. It was not that bad.
Gino seemed pleased that I moved closer, and didn't force a conversation. He simply held me in his arms and swayed with the music. The fact that he’d become my future husband twisted in my mind. I was still trying to digest the fact that we’d be married soon. I placed my head on his chest, more to bury my sorrow, but he took it to mean something else.
Gino leaned his head lower and whispered in my ear. His gentle words offered sympathy. "It's going to be okay. I want nothing but your happiness. I won't mistreat you, Isabella."
If he thought his words would change my reality, they didn't. I was here because they were going to kill my father. I nodded, acknowledging his words. It was the least I could do. He wasn't a gorilla manhandling me, and was tender
with me next to him. It still didn’t change the fact my father’s life was on the line.
When the song ended and he pulled away, I realized it wasn't as horrible as I'd anticipated. A slow dance, holding onto a strong, handsome man wasn't like walking across jagged ice. I hated that I found him somewhat attractive. Perversely for an instant, I wanted him to be a hideous beast. I wanted him to be doughy and fleshy and breathe heavily, or hold me too tightly without my permission so I could protest and make things difficult. Instead, he was a gentleman and tried to soothe me, as if understanding the struggle of the situation.
Gino took my hand and led me back to the table. He pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit. After returning to his own seat, he reached across the table for my hand. I closed my eyes and forced my hand onto the table, allowing him to touch me.
"Isabella, if you work with me, we could make a life together, one we could both enjoy. I'm not some monster. I'll treasure you as my wife and always keep you safe." He wanted me to know his vision of our future.
"I need time to absorb it all. My entire world shifted under my feet. I'm going to do my best not to be difficult, but I'm still processing it all. Gino, I'm scared and disappointed. This wasn’t the life I wanted. And the fact that people are still threatened in the manner my father was is beyond me. I may have grown up in the family, but I've tried to distance myself when I've been able to." I hated violence, hated everything that went along with being part of a mafia family, and yet, I loved my family and would do whatever I could for them. And here I was, about to eat the first of many dinners with my future husband. How many more would there be?
He gave me a smoldering gaze. "You're a beautiful woman."
I bowed my head slightly and thanked him. I wasn't ready to admit he was a handsome man. I kept those thoughts to myself and managed to hold up my end of the conversation for the rest of the evening until he walked me back to my front door.
Dreading a final kiss, I was grateful when he pushed a loose lock of hair away from my face, and simply kissed my forehead with surprising tenderness. With that, he turned to leave.
* * *
8
Gino
The phone blipped as Chiara adjusted my bow-tie.
"Stop fidgeting or I'll have to start all over again."
I froze and tried to hide my frustration. I knew that only ten minutes ago, the flower shop had delivered an outrageous arrangement of white roses to Isabella with a card. After agonizing about what to write, I had picked a simple declaration: "To our happily ever after."
Instead of the answer I was hoping for, I saw the confirmation from the limo service that they’d arrived at her house. They were giving an estimated time of arrival for Santa Lucia.
"There's no doubt you'll be the most handsome man in that church today," Gia said as she looked at my reflection in the mirror. From the puzzled look on her face I could tell she was wondering why I was getting married in such a rush. No one had told her about the forced marriage and if I could get away with it, she would never know.
"Oh, is that so?" asked Hunter with a mock offended tone.
I laughed. I’d grown closer to my niece's fiancé in the past few weeks as we worked side-by-side finishing the house I’d purchased for my bride-to-be in Ocean Crest. While driving him crazy to make sure he’d finish the renovation of the two-bedroom house facing the ocean, I’d warmed up to him and came to appreciate the special relationship he and Gia enjoyed.
"Well, he is dashing," my sister chimed in. "You're not looking too bad yourself. I'm sure you'll be the star of the show when you finally decide to make an honest woman out of my daughter!"
She scolded him periodically on the topic, but I knew she was happy to see her daughter "test drive" her partner, so to speak, before closing the deal. It made me wonder about the relationship between Chiara and Sonny, but then again, the last thing I wanted to imagine was my sister in bed with her husband, so I never asked.
Now I almost regretted it, since all my life I’d stayed clear of virgins, preferring experienced partners, and ones who would be suitably impressed by the size of my equipment.
Sonny came and patted my shoulder. "You lucky bastard," he said winking at me. He endlessly teased me about taking one for the team. When he did, I was quite ambivalent about his behavior as if he was insulting my wife-to-be when talking this way.
There was something about Isabella that unsettled me. As the date of the wedding grew closer, she became more and more withdrawn as if in mourning.
Of course it was the end of the life she’d led up to now, but it was also a new beginning. I didn't understand why, in as much as so many things had been forced upon her, she hadn't tried to keep some control over the stuff she had a free rein on. She didn’t want to pick her wedding dress or visit our future home, leaving it up to me to pick out the first of our furniture alone.
Was it stupid of me to be hurt by her refusal? Maybe. Yet in the end, I realized I was being a hypocrite. I wanted her and found a way to get her. But still, if there was anyone she should resent for her predicament it was her own idiot of a father. If he hadn't tried to take down Sonny, he wouldn't have had to pay ransom and give her away.
Furthermore, she could always say no and back out at the last minute. No one would be holding a shotgun to her head. The consequences would only be that her father and the rest of his family would lose the fancy lifestyle they were accustomed to. Unless of course he had enough stashed away. My guess was that he’d blown it all to live the good life and had nothing set aside for a stormy day.
He should have known better. Even I, almost half his age, knew better and I was no whiz kid. Nope, but I had enough stashed to buy a house for my bride and still make a run for a new life if I needed to.
I wondered what Sonny would have chosen if the roles had been reversed. There was no doubt in my mind that Chiara would have moved into a studio apartment in the worst part of town and taken a job as a cleaning lady, giving up all the luxuries she took for granted, rather than force her daughter to marry a man she didn't know and was a decade older than her.
I looked at Gia and asked myself the same question. Would I have sacrificed her happiness for my comfort? The question was moot since Gia was strong spirited and there was no way in hell anyone could have forced her into a marriage of convenience. Even brought all the way up to the altar kicking and screaming, she would have never pronounced her vows unless maybe someone was standing with a gun pointed at her family.
The little respect I had for Dante Guarnieri vanished the day he agreed to our demands. I kept wondering how the man slept at night. Still it wasn’t up to me to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was a prize I fully intended to collect.
If she didn't suddenly decide to say no instead of I do, she would be mine body and soul. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but I’d find my way in. I never wanted someone so badly in my life.
As if reading my mind, my sister said, "Who would have thought you would get such a kick out of deferred gratification?” She didn’t know everything, but she knew I hadn’t yet “tested the goods,” as her husband so elegantly put it.
Looking at her, I laughed and hugged her. "I love you, sis," and I did. She’d been more of a mother to me than our own mama, bless her soul.
"Come on, kids," Sonny called out from the porch. "It's time to get this show on the road."
I put my hand in the pocket of my vest, in search for our wedding bands. The velvet box was safely in place. I looked at my watch and sighed. Yes, it was time to go.
* * *
9
Isabella
I sat before the mirror as my stylist finished an elegant up do. A few sexy tendrils framed my face. At least my wedding pictures would be lovely. I hoped my eyes didn't give away the fact that it wasn't by choice. Would they show my secret, that I didn’t want to be at my own wedding?
"You look gorgeous," my mother chimed in, standing behind me. She smiled at my image in the m
irror. After the stylist finished setting the style with hairspray, she walked with my mother to the door.
Maura sat on the bed in her pretty blue dress. "It's weird that you're getting married so fast, and to somebody you didn't choose."
"Sometimes life isn't fair," I answered. I wanted to say more, to spill out my resentment on the floor and kick it around, but a mature woman knows better and keeps it to herself. Also, Maura had a temper and if she had been told the entire truth she would have felt it was her sacred duty to do something, like scream in church when the priest asked if anyone had an objection… It took every ounce of self-control I had, but I kept my lips sealed.
My mother returned, gushing. "Oh, Bella, you should see the flowers that were just delivered. It's a massive bouquet, you must come see."
I followed my mom, appreciating her enthusiasm, as I had none of my own to give. The extravagant arrangement of white roses was fit for a queen. Any woman would have been impressed, but I knew it was simply an act of kindness to soften the blow. I picked up the small card that came with the flowers. "To our happily ever after," it read. My stomach knotted. I'd be walking down the aisle soon. This was real. There was no out, and my life would forever change.
When the limo driver arrived, there was no more delaying the inevitable. I only needed to slip on my wedding dress. Everything else was complete, my hair, my makeup, and my delicate jewelry was in place. I unzipped the long wardrobe bag that held my bridal gown. Gino's sister had sent a seamstress to measure me, and then taken the dress selection out of my hands. I’d balked and wouldn’t choose my own, so I left it to her. I hadn’t even looked at the dress she’d chosen when it arrived. I opened the bag, seeing it for the first time.