Sounding bored, Mamma says, “You can die after you walk me to my seat. I don’t want to navigate that crowd alone.”
She gives Lili a kiss on the cheek and hobbles out on her cane. An exultant Gianni follows behind, leaving me alone with my grieving niece.
Before I can think of something appropriate to say, she asks me to leave her alone until it’s time for us to walk down the aisle.
My heart aching for her, I leave, quietly closing the door behind me. Ignoring the guards stationed outside and avoiding the crowd of people in the vestibule, I find a deserted ladies’ room in a back hallway and lock myself in a stall for a few minutes to try to catch my breath.
I can’t. I sit there hyperventilating for long, awful minutes until finally, the church bells start to ring. Then I head back to the dressing room, feeling like a cement block has been dropped on my chest.
When I open the door to the dressing room, I freeze in horror.
Lili is on her knees in the middle of the floor, sobbing.
She’s clinging to a young man with dark hair dressed in a brown leather jacket, jeans, and a white T-shirt, who’s standing protectively in front of her, using his body as a shield.
Juan Pablo’s dark eyes burn with defiance and fury.
Gianni stands six feet away, pointing a gun at his chest.
Reacting purely on instinct, I slam the door shut so the guards can’t see what’s happening and order, “Gianni, put down the gun.”
He spews curses in Italian, then shouts in English, “You cocksucker motherfucker piece of shit! You crawled in through the window like a cockroach? Say your fucking prayers, coglione!”
Lili must’ve called him from the hotel. She called him and told him where she was getting married, and he came here to stop the wedding.
Despite kicking myself for leaving her alone in a room with a telephone, I have to admit I feel a deep sense of admiration for Juan Pablo’s bravery.
He’s brave, but so, so stupid. Gianni will never let him walk out of this room alive.
“Papa, please! Please listen to me!” wails Lili, crying so hard, her whole body shakes.
“Why should I fucking listen to you? You’ve dishonored your whole family!”
Creeping closer to Lili, I say, “Everyone calm down. Take a breath, Gianni. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He looks at me, his eyes wild and his face bright red. “She’s been fucking this kid, Reyna! She just admitted it! She thinks she’s in love with this…this…son of a pool man! She’s ruined! And she’s ruined me!”
When he lurches a step closer to them, waving the gun like a lunatic and shouting about how Juan Pablo’s about to meet his maker, Lili screams in terror, “You can’t kill him! I’m pregnant!”
Gianni freezes. His eyes widen. All the blood drains from his face.
Pregnant.
Beyond my shock, there’s a dawning anger. Lili would’ve married Quinn if Juan Pablo hadn’t shown up. She would’ve married Quinn and tried to pass off their baby as his.
Would she have ever told me? Would she have expected me to keep that from him, that the child he believed to be his own was, in fact, another man’s?
Pretending to be a virgin on your wedding night is one thing. Lying for an entire lifetime about the real identity of your child’s father is quite another.
My anger gets sidetracked when Gianni hisses, “Then you both have to die.”
Before he can pull the trigger, I jump in front of Juan Pablo. “No!”
“Get out of the way, Reyna,” Gianni snarls.
Holding out my hands, I say, “You don’t have to do this! There’s another way!”
“There’s no other fucking way! There are four hundred people out in that church waiting to see a wedding. When Lili doesn’t walk down the aisle, who do you think will be blamed? What do you think will happen to me? To us? Quinn will be humiliated. The contract will be canceled. We’ll lose our standing with the other families, I won’t be named capo, and we might as well start digging our own graves. It’s all over for all of us unless Quinn gets a wife!”
Unless Quinn gets a wife.
Oh shit. I knew today was going to be a nightmare.
I drag a deep breath into my lungs and give my life away.
It’s not the first time I’ve done it, but it is the first time I’ve done it for a noble cause.
Saving three lives counts as noble, right?
Staring straight into Gianni’s wild eyes, I say quietly, “Lili isn’t the only single woman in the Caruso family.”
It takes him a moment before he understands. Then he puffs out an astonished breath.
“Now put the gun down, and send someone to go get Mamma.”
“What do you need her for?”
I exhale, barely able to believe the words about to come out of my own mouth.
“She has to alter a wedding dress.”
19
Spider
Standing beside me on the steps leading up to the altar, Declan glances at me so many times from the corner of his eye, I’m getting annoyed.
I try to keep my voice as low as possible because there are four hundred bloody people staring at me. “Stop that, for fuck’s sake. I’m solid.”
He smooths a hand down the front of his tux and smiles at our audience. A woman on the bride’s side of the aisle near the front smiles back coyly and starts to fan herself with the wedding program.
Barely moving his lips, he murmurs, “Aye? As solid as you were last night during dinner when you were acting like a mute gorilla? Or as solid as you’ve been all morning, wearing a face like you’ve got a date with a firing squad?”
Through gritted teeth, I say, “Stop worrying about me.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s your blood pressure. You’re wired to the moon, and your head’s about to explode. I don’t want brains all over my tux.”
From Declan’s other side, Kieran leans in and whispers, “Ye do look a wee bit frightful, lad. Like maybe there’s ants in yer pants, nibblin’ on yer willy.”
“Thank you. Arsehole.”
The organ music sounds tinny and grating in my ears. The smell of flowers and women’s perfume is overpowering. I’m sweating in my tux, there’s a metallic taste on my tongue, and I could really use a stiff nip of scotch to settle my stomach.
I just have to get through the ceremony. Then I’ll be better. Then I can stop regretting the fuck out of this god-awful decision and get on with my bloody life.
Like every other man who gets married.
Except Declan. He doesn’t regret it for a second. He’d marry Sloane every day if he could, the mad bastard. She’s sitting in the front row on the groom’s side, beautiful and beaming like one of Raphael’s Madonnas, making all the other women around her look like dowdy pensioners.
Only Reyna could eclipse her.
Reyna with her scarlet lips and acid tongue and body that men and gods would gladly die for. Reyna with her tender heart and easy lies.
Reyna who I’m not fucking thinking about.
Again.
Forcing the thought of her from my mind, I concentrate on the row of stained glass windows lining one side of the sanctuary. It immediately makes me think of the stained glass windows at Reyna’s house, so I change my focus to the restless crowd.