I followed her into the main shop. The large white space was filled with mannequins, which were dressed in colorful sequences, embroidered dresses, and long sweeping bridal gowns.
I headed behind the counter, slipping off my sewing apron while my mother stared at the door, ignoring all of her other customers, her face so excited. It was at that moment that I knew she was a hypocrite. She’d had a valid excuse for being friendly to Salvatore’s mother all those years ago at my eleventh birthday party: Signora Santini had the power to make or break lives. But Selena Orsini didn’t have the same power. Instead, she had an overly inflated ego, which I knew my mother was about to stroke for the sole purpose of promoting her business. Plus, with the way my mother was speaking, she wanted to kit out as many of Selena’s rich, criminal friends as possible.
Though, I couldn’t criticize her without being a hypocrite myself. We saw what we wanted and ignored everything else that we didn’t approve of, like I had done with Salvatore. I knew he was mafia, but I’d willfully ignored that side of his life. I wasn’t stupid; I understood what the mafia was capable of. Only a week ago, I’d read an article about a hit on the other side of the island. I wondered whether it was Salvatore’s brother who’d done it. There had also been a high profile mafia arrest in Palermo, someone who I was sure Salvatore had mentioned he was related to.
The shop bell tinkled, snapping me out of my thoughts. My eyes went to the doorway. Signora Orsini stepped through it. Selena’s mother was just as stunning as her daughter. She was all long blonde hair and pastel-colored courtier clothing, her Prada handbag probably worth more than I made in a month, if not more. For a moment, I wondered why she was even considering buying from my mother, then quashed the thought. My mother’s work was exquisite. Everything was done by hand, with the most intricate of details that even top designers would marvel over. I was sure if we were still in Naples she would’ve been discovered, but that wasn’t meant to be.
Selena entered next. Her eyes instantly went to me. Her peach-colored lips pulled tight in a grimace. A second later, a smug expression swept it away, her green eyes now dancing with malice. She followed her mother over to mine, the clip clop of her high heels moving to the beat of my heart. She had her long blonde hair tied up in a chiffon and was wearing a suit identical to her mother’s, just in a different shade of pastel—a peach color to match her blusher and lipstick.
My mother piped up, “Signora Orsini, how wonderful to have you in my store.” She ran her hands over the wedding gowns behind her. “I have a wonderful selection of gowns for your daughter to try on.”
Selena walked past her mother and started looking through the rack. She stopped on one dress, pulling it out. “Is this an original with no copies?” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Because I only want the best for my wedding to Salvatore Santini.”
My mother’s eyes moved to me, understanding now coloring her expression. I gripped onto the counter and forced myself to smile at her, hoping she didn’t ruin her opportunity because of me.
She refocused on Selena. “All of the bridal gowns in this section are one-offs.” She pointed to another rack lining the far wall. “Those are copies, while this dress,” she touched the one Selena was holding, “is not only an original, it’s from my top range, which is why it’s even more expensive.”
“Expense is not an issue,” Selena replied. “I’ll try it on along with this one,” she said pointing to another gown.
“Sì, Signorina,” my mother piped up, “and if any of the gowns need altering or you would like more lace or pearls, or anything else added, I can do that.”
Another customer came up to me, ripping my attention away from them. I rang up the clothes the woman was purchasing, barely keeping from crying. All I could think about was that Selena was buying a wedding dress for Salvatore to remove. What made it even worse was that Salvatore hadn’t called me this week, which sealed in my mind he was going through with the arranged marriage.
Yet another customer approached the counter, asking about some clothing. On autopilot, I helped them, although my eyes kept flicking to Selena. She was now standing on the circular platform, wearing one of my mother’s original wedding dresses, looking like a model out of a catalogue, the woman incredibly beautiful. I knew I was good-looking, even five feet of me, but this woman truly looked like a match for Salvatore. She was at least five-ten, with a big bust and a tiny waist. She looked like a princess standing up there, unlike me with my cotton dress and calloused hands. It made me think of the Cinderella story. I was the before shot while Selena was the after shot, the one who got to marry my Prince Charming.
Before I knew it, I was out the back of the shop, sobbing my heart out. Deep down I knew Salvatore had chosen to have a mafia wedding, leaving me devastated and heartbroken.
After ten or so minutes, my mother came out the back, probably having finished with Selena. She wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Rosa, I didn’t know it was Salvatore she was marrying. But it’s been a long time since you’ve known him. There will be others for you.”
I wiped my eyes, wishing I hadn’t hidden my relationship from her. I guessed I was just like Salvatore: Only telling her what I thought she could handle.
I continued to sob, knowing I’d lost the love of my life.
***
Salvatore called me two days later, telling me to meet him at our usual spot by the south-east river. I turned up early, needing to get myself mentally prepared for the inevitable: our breakup.
I sat down on a small boulder and looked out over the river. The wind was battering the water against the rocks, sending spray into the air. The sky was growing darker by the second, the thick layer of clouds threatening a downpour. Hoping the rain held off, I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, dreading Salvatore’s arrival.
Ten minutes later, I heard the rumble of a car. I looked over my shoulder as a black sedan came to a stop several yards from me. The driver’s door opened, then Salvatore’s long legs appeared. He stepped out, dressed in a black suit, a white button-down shirt, and dark sunglasses. He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a holstered gun. I wondered whether he’d done it on purpose to scare me. If he had, he was successful, because for the first time he truly looked like a mobster.
He nodded at me as though I was an acquaintance rather than his amore.
I remained sitting on the boulder, barely getting out a “Ciao.”
“Ciao,” he mumbled back, probably feeling as uncomfortable as I was. He turned to the river, giving the impression he didn’t want to look at me. It hurt beyond words, but I kept my tears in, not wanting to break down in front of him.
“Please sit down,” I pushed out.
He walked over and sat down next to me, his sunglasses hiding his emotions. “I’ve been thinking about you more and more lately,” he said, his voice steady, almost cold, “and I’ve decided we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
I screwed up my face, again willing myself not to cry. “Is this because of Selena?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t believe you. She came into my mother’s store for a dress fitting. She took great pleasure in making sure I knew it was for your wedding. So please give me the respect of telling me the truth.”
“I am. This has got nothing to do with that troia,” he said, calling Selena a bitch. “I can’t stand her and will only curtail to my famiglia’s wishes since I can’t be with you.”
“Why can’t you be with me?”
“Because we don’t live in the same world. You should have a good man, not the monster I’ve become.”
“You’re not a monster.”
He held out his hands. “I told you what I’ve done. The blood may be cleaned off, but it will forever stain my hands. I’m a killer, Rosa, while you’re an angel—”
“You think I’m an angel?”
“Sì, and I’m a demon who should burn in Hell for what I’ve done. I don’t deserve love, I deserve that
troia Selena.”
“No, you don’t! You’re too good for her.”
He shook his head. “Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been telling you over the past month?”
“I have, I just don’t care. All I care about is being with you, not what you’re forced to do.”
“I’m not forced to do anything. This is my way of life, what I’ve been trained to do. The good and the bad are all in me. You can’t take one away from the other. They are intertwined.”
“Then I’ll take it all.” I reached out, snatching his sunglasses off his face. I froze, his eyes taking me by surprise. They were bloodshot and shiny, suggesting he’d been crying. A second later, he snatched them back and pushed off the boulder.
He slipped the glasses back on. “Marrying Selena is for the best. She won’t care what I do, and no matter how much you say you won’t, you will. Because of that you should find another man, one who’s deserving of you.” He turned to walk away.
I jumped up and grabbed his arm. “You’re deserving. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”
He pulled his arm free. “You shouldn’t love me.”
“I know!” I yelled. “But I can’t help it, and right now, I’m getting sick of being the only one fighting to keep our relationship alive. Every single time it’s me begging to be with you. So tell me the truth: You don’t love me as much as I love you. That’s why you keep walking away from me. It’s got nothing to do with the mafia and everything to do with me!”
He jerked his head back. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?! Because you clam up every time something doesn’t go your way. Like when I unwittingly called your famiglia criminals at my eleventh birthday party. I had to persist to get you back as a friend. And that time you got upset when you thought I didn’t want you at sixteen—I had to confront you. Then you admit to having sex with a slave, and it’s me who calls first. And now it’s me screaming at you, begging you to stay with me. Well, I’ve had enough. I may love you with all my heart and soul, and would even kill for you, but you have to want me just as bad. Fight for me, Salvatore, like I’ve fought for you, because it’s me doing all the compromising here, not you!”
His mouth fell open.
I glared at him. “Have you got nothing to say, big bad mafia man? You scared of a woman half your size?”
He didn’t respond, appearing too shocked, then out of nowhere he burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?!”
“You,” he snorted.
“I’m not being funny! I’m being serious.”
He placed his hands on his knees, his whole body shaking with laugher.
“Stop it!”
When he didn’t, I shoved him, making him stumble back. He steadied himself, but continued laughing. Furious with his reaction, I charged at him. He grabbed me, lifting me off my feet. I yelled at him to put me down, but he clung on tighter. I started calling him every vile name under the sun, some I didn’t even realize I knew until they spewed out of my mouth. He planted his lips against mine, cutting off my torrent of abuse. I went still, disbelieving that he was kissing me.
He detached his lips from mine and grinned wide. “You may look like an angel, but you’re a filthy-mouthed devil.”
He gave me another kiss, then carried me over to his car, laying me across the hood. Tossing his sunglasses aside, he leaned down and kissed me again, his hands moving to my blouse. He ripped it open and yanked my bra up. Within seconds, his mouth was on one of my breasts, sucking it roughly. Pleasure swamped my mind, drowning out all my anger. I went to place a hand on his head, but before I could, he pulled away from me. Smiling sexily, he started undressing, the turn of events giving me whiplash. He removed his jacket along with his holster, placing them onto the ground. He then yanked his shirt off, losing buttons in the process. His shoes went next, then his underwear and pants, leaving him naked and me drooling. His shoulders were so wide, while his stomach was carved to perfection, and his cock … it was hard and proud, the man before me everything I could possibly desire.
His smile softened, showing me a glimpse of the old Salvatore: the sweet, caring man who gave me a different colored rose every year for my birthday, not the hard mobster who’d admitted to killing people. And I knew in that moment, he could do anything and I’d overlook it, my love for him unconditional.
The sweet look quickly disappeared, lust replacing it. He leaned down and picked me up. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, not caring I was half-undressed in a public place. Although this part of the river was remote, rarely traveled, someone could still see us … yet I ignored the risk. All I cared about was the man holding me to his naked body—the one I loved beyond words. I tightened my grip around his neck and kissed him hard, putting everything into it, as though we were long lost lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. And it felt like it, our time apart torture.
At that moment, the skies opened up. Rain descended upon us, drenching our bodies. He lowered me to the ground, partially shielding me from the rain. Within seconds, he had my panties off and his cock inside of me. I gasped at the sudden intrusion. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he continued to push in, groaning, “Tu mi rovini, Rosa. You ruin me.”
Then he withdrew and thrust back inside again, giving me both pleasure and pain, his cock too big. But with each thrust, he loosened me more, the pleasure eventually winning over, making me writhe underneath him. He grabbed onto my culo, locking me in place, then proceeded to fuck me hard. I stared up at him, truly thunderstruck by the man. Water ran down every line and curve of his muscular physique, his wet body an erotic dream. And his face ... it was truly breathtaking. His hair was plastered to his head, his eyes were hooded, while water dripped off his lashes, and the moans coming from his mouth ... he was nothing short of beautiful.
He arched his neck as he continued to fuck me, each stroke rubbing me just right, bringing me closer and closer and... I cried out, coming all of a sudden, my body stiffening as pleasure raced through me, taking me by surprise. He continued plowing into me, his grunts and growls growing louder as he neared his own completion. Several seconds later, he buried himself balls-deep, going still as he came.
After a few breathless moments, he pulled out, his cock unfettered. I stared at it, the realization of what we’d done hitting me all at once. We’d had unprotected sex again. I hadn’t gotten pregnant from our first time, since my period had come a couple days afterwards, but I was in the middle of my cycle now.
Then he spoke, wiping away all my reservations in one sentence: “I give you my word, Rosa, no matter what, I will marry you.”
***
I threw up in the toilet, the test I took earlier confirming I was pregnant. Which meant I had to tell my mother ... something I was dreading. Although Salvatore and I were engaged, we hadn’t told our parents yet. We knew what their reactions would be: angry and hostile. So we’d put it off, preferring to enjoy our time together without our parents getting in the way. But things were coming to a head. Salvatore’s arranged wedding to Selena was just over a month away, while my morning-sickness was severe, to the point that I was throwing up several times a day. Even worse, my mother and nonna were returning from their Naples trip in a few hours, the time to confess rapidly approaching.
I pushed up from the toilet and opened the door, seeing my eighteen-year-old brother standing in the passageway.
Antonio had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at me. He looked similar to me. He had the same shade of strawberry-blonde hair and a cute face, plus he was short, only six inches taller than me.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” he snapped, his gray eyes upset.
I nodded.
“That figlio di puttana!” He took off, heading for the front door. I knew where he was going ... to Salvatore’s house. Unlike my mother and nonna, Antonio knew about my relationship with Salvatore. He’d found out after he’d taken my radio two years prior. I’d
yelled at him, accidentally letting it slip as to why I had it. I had to bribe him not to tell our mother and nonna, using his stash of Playboys as leverage.
I ran after him, screaming at him to stop. As he headed out the front door, I grabbed his arm.
He yanked it free and turned on me, getting his face right up to mine. “That bastardo has no right to treat you like this!” he yelled. “To use you, then throw you away so he can marry that Orsini troia. I will kill him for this!”
I grabbed his arm again. “He’s not engaged to her,” I said, trying to stop him from leaving. “I’m engaged to him.”
“Don’t take me for a fool, Rosa. I saw the advertisement for his engagement a week ago. It took up a whole fucking page.”
“He doesn’t want to marry her, he wants to marry me! This is his famiglia’s doing, not his.”
Antonio pointed at my stomach. “That is his doing, and you shouldn’t have opened your legs for that mafia trash!”
My hand whipped out before I could think, and even if I had, I would’ve still slapped him. “How dare you?!” I yelled. “Salvatore’s a good man!”
Antonio grabbed my wrist and yanked me to him, getting his face into mine again. “You are blinded by love, whereas I see everything clearly.” His voice lowered. “He got you pregnant out of wedlock. This will not only ruin you, it’ll ruin our whole famiglia.”
“Let go of me,” I said.
He let go of my wrist, his eyes still flashing at me. “I will go to the Santini and demand that you be supported.”
“No, keep away from them, you’ll ruin everything. Salvatore will sort things out.”
“Does he know you’re—” His eyes shot to our neighbor as old man Conti stepped out of his cottage.
“No,” I answered, knowing he was going to say pregnant. “I was going to tell him yesterday, but he got caught up with work, so had to cancel our date.” I raised my chin. “We had planned on discussing how to break the news of our engagement.”
I Love You, Salvatore Page 8