What if you met your soulmate at the wrong time?
The words “I do” cut me like an acid-covered blade.
For a moment, the constant murmurs, intakes of breaths, rustling of clothes and sniffling in the church faded into the background, and I was focused only on one thing.
Amo Vitiello.
His gaze found mine for the fraction of a second, gray like the sky during a summer storm, before he turned back to the front.
I interlinked my fingers to stop them from shaking.
This day would change me. I loved my family, my life. I’d never longed for more, never wanted to leave my comfortable routine or familiar hometown. I’d never wanted for more than I had.
Until our paths crossed and Amo sunk his claws into my heart and soul.
I didn’t understand everything that went on between the sky and the earth. I didn’t believe in divine providence or fate.
Soulmates?
A sweet dream I’d never dreamed until he crashed through my bubble of contentment. Now a dream I never wanted became the nightmare I couldn’t shake, and a longing I’d never felt became a crushing need.
One that would never be sated.
“I do,” Cressida said.
The little flame of hope inside of me died and my hands became slack. Like a tsunami the sounds of the crowd around me crashed back down on me.
I’d grown up among cruel men.
But fate was so much crueler than any of them.
Amo Vitiello was my soulmate…
…and now married to another woman.
I dreaded the congratulations for one reason only. When Fabiano and his family stepped forward to congratulate me, I knew it was almost time. Fabiano shook my hand with a barely there smile. Our relationship had never been overly close. Now it was poisoned.
I supposed Nevio and me almost killing each other had soured the situation further. Even Aurora who was usually the nicest and most bubbly of the lot looked as if her smile cost her, especially when she shook Cressida’s hand. I wasn’t sure how close Aurora and Greta were, they were three years apart but Fabiano pretty much lived under one roof with the Falcone clan.
I swallowed when Remo and his wife stepped forward. Remo gripped my hand tightly, his eyes glinting with warning. He leaned forward. “You made the right choice today, one that’s going to save many.”
My answering smile was far from pleasant. “For now.”
Serafina dug her nails into his arm and pulled him aside but they stayed close. Remo’s eyes didn’t hide his hatred for me. We’d never liked each other, but since Greta, simple animosity had turned to pure loathing. Slamming my knife into his son’s stomach was one of the best moments of my life, only every moment I’d spent with Greta beat it, which was ironic.
Then every ounce of hatred bundled inside of my evaporated as Greta stepped out behind her father. I hadn’t expected her to be here, had wished she wouldn’t show up, but in true Falcone fashion she faced complications square on.
Her dark hair was put up in a loose updo with a few strands framing her lovely, elfin face. She wore a simple long silk dress in a subdued mint which was held up by the thinnest straps I’d ever seen. She wasn’t wearing a bra, couldn’t possibly, but still it wasn’t indecent. Whatever she wore beneath covered her nipples. She looked like the frailest beauty, like a flower too beautiful and delicate to be touched by human hands. Of course, she wasn’t wearing heels even if she barely reached her father’s chest, nor mine. I couldn’t imagine Greta ever wearing them. She wore simple golden sandals and for once nail polish, the same color as her dress.
Greta met my gaze, her lips pulling into a smile that ached worse than Nevio’s knife in my side. “Congratulations, Amo.” She turned to Cressida. “Congratulations, Cressida.”
Cressida scanned Greta from head to toe. And just the brief flicker of disapproval in her expression made me want to snarl at her.
“Thank you. When you turn of age in a few years, I’m sure you’re going to have a nice wedding too,” Cressida said.
Greta only smiled at the jab. Cressida knew fucking well that Greta was of age. She’d had to learn the names and ages of the most important players in our world before marriage, and Greta was one of the most important even if she didn’t act like she was.
“Greta doesn’t need to marry to be a queen. Only by existing, she’s shining brighter than most ever will,” Remo said in a harsh voice.
Cressida dug her nails into my palm, obviously wanting me to say something, but Remo had only voiced what I’d thought.