His eyes slanted to me. I ignored the subtle suggestion. I wouldn’t marry Aria or Gianna. Those girls were thirteen and fifteen, mere children, and I was a man who only harbored darkness after Carla’s death.
“We have to make tactical choices that benefit the Outfit, son.”
I nodded. “That’s true. Giving Aria to Luca seems the wiser choice. I think she’ll be less likely to provoke him than Gianna.” Considering how I’d killed Jacopo to protect Ines from a monster, it was ironic how I agreed to give another innocent girl to a monster for the sake of the Outfit. Sacrifices needed to be made, it was Father’s credo. I knew there was only one way to save Aria from Luca’s clutches and that was if I wanted her for myself. Father and Rocco would readily agree. It would spare her the cruelty under Luca’s hand and it would get Father off my back, allow me to bury myself in my grief without constant surveillance. I could insist on a marriage in three years, and even if Father demanded a closer date, I knew Aria would be glad if I didn’t act like a husband, if I didn’t try to lay claim on her. My insides tightened at the mere idea of being with someone other than Carla, of making a vow of that proportion when Carla was the only woman I wanted to be bound to.
As if he could smell my train of thought, Rocco got up and walked toward the door, opening it. “Aria! Come down here for a moment.” Rocco returned to the table and exchanged a look with Father. I knew what they were thinking, what so many people in the Outfit were thinking.
The Golden Couple. The name carried in whispers through our circles, had started to do so even before Carla’s body had turned cold, had begun the moment word about her cancer had gotten out. I’d ignored it but it had grown to a dimension that made it impossible to keep doing so. I was left with two choices if I didn’t want to appear weak, because grieving a dead woman was nothing but weakness in the eyes of so many of Father’s loyal men. Either I married Aria, or I gave her to Luca.
Within a couple of minutes, she walked into the living room, dressed in a pale blue dress, her blonde hair up in a messy ponytail. Her eyes widened as she spotted us, too young to school her features quick enough. She came over, hands clasped in front of her belly, trepidation reflecting on her face. For a moment, her eyes met mine before she ducked her head and turned to Rocco. “Yes, Father?”
My eyes trailed over her, trying to imagine how I could be a husband to that girl. I couldn’t possibly allow closeness in the physical, much less the emotional sense to her. The idea of sharing a bed with her, of pretending I could care about her, it stirred up my insides, until anger and sorrow were inseparable until my need to dish out the same pain that consumed me got overwhelming. Maybe Luca would break her with cruelty, but maybe he wouldn’t. I didn’t know.
What I knew without a doubt was that I would break her with my sorrow-tinged darkness, that I’d eventually vent my anger on her because she dared to take the spot at my side nobody deserved but the woman that I’d buried mere days ago.
“We want a drink. Head over to the cigar lounge and get glasses and the bottle of my favorite scotch for us.”
She nodded quickly before she turned and walked off. I wouldn’t marry Aria. I couldn’t.
“She’s beautiful and young,” Father said to me.
“She is.” My voice didn’t reflect my inner turmoil. “Which is why we need to give her to Luca Vitiello. It’ll send him the message that we’re determined to give him the best we can offer. If peace is our intention, we don’t have a choice.”
Disappointment flickered across Father’s wrinkled face but he inclined his head. Rocco didn’t seem too sad either, after all, his daughter would be given to a future Capo either way. “There’s still Gianna.”
“Father,” I said firmly. “I won’t marry Gianna either, or anyone else. We have other things to focus on.”
He knew me well enough to realize I wouldn’t budge on the subject now that I had made up my mind. I didn’t want to marry again soon, or ever. The memory of Carla was my companion and the success of the Outfit my mission in life, there was no room for anything else.
I’d sworn to put the Outfit above all else, especially a woman, but here I was refusing a bond because of my love for Carla. Not marrying posed a risk in our circles. It suggested I was struggling with my late wife’s death and that was admittance of weakness above all else. If the Outfit appeared weak, our enemies might try to attack. Not to mention that I needed an heir, a boy who could become Capo when I retired or got killed.
Yet I couldn’t marry, not yet. Maybe never.
It was betrayal of my oath, but the vows to Carla meant more to me. They always would.
Three years later
I regarded Aria as she huddled beside Luca. Despite the splendid white dress and her bright smile, it was obvious to me that her wedding wasn’t a day of joy for her. It didn’t come as a surprise, considering her husband. Luca’s vigilant eyes kept returning to me, like a lion who smelled another predator in his territory.
He wasn’t someone I would have tolerated in my vicinity under normal circumstances, but normal had become an even harder to grasp concept in these last three years.
Mother put her hand over mine. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to take it off?”
I released my wedding band, which I had been twisting around my finger, pulled my hand away and stood. “Excuse me, I think it’s expected of me to grace the dance floor with my presence.” My mother’s face reflected the same reproach her words had carried but guilt trips had long lost their impact on me.
But her interference was appreciated anyway. I needed to keep up appearances at a time like this and hanging on to the past publicly wasn’t something I could risk. Ines and Pietro had barely left the dance floor, one of the few couples who were as happy behind closed doors as they appeared on the outside, like Carla and I had been.
I shoved the thoughts aside and my eyes came to rest on Valentina once more. She stood off to the side, talking to Bibiana Bonello. I purposefully went over to her and her demeanor changed from relaxed to sophisticated tension the moment she noticed my approach. She’d lost her husband less than a year ago and her father had started looking for a new husband for her a couple of weeks ago. I held out my hand. “Would you like to dance?”
Surprise flickered in her green eyes but she accepted my invitation and let me lead her toward the dance floor. Silence stretched between us as we began to sway to the music, and I considered the woman in my arms. From the moment Valentina’s father Giovanni had started looking for a new husband for his daughter, an idea had started forming in my mind. Valentina had lost her husband recently, and would still be crippled by her own sorrow, which in turn would make her reluctant to seek my closeness, at least emotional. As for the physical aspect of a possible bond, I had no trouble admitting that I was attracted to her, as were most of the men present tonight. Valentina was elegant and beautiful.
Moreover, she was experienced, which might make her undesirable in my parents’ eyes but perfect for my purposes. A virgin bride required gentleness and care I didn’t have to spare but Valentina might be up for the angry sex I craved if only to battle her own demons into silence.