8. Stefania

Renzo sends a car for me at ten in the morning. He doesn't trust that I'll show up on my own, and that's probably a good call, because I've been up all night making various escape plans.

Screw Stefania Bianco and screw defining her. I'm who I am now and I don't want to change. Except escaping to Europe isn't any better than marrying Davide, since my life as I know it would be over anyway, and I might as well stick with the devil I know.

During the car ride over, I write an email to Giorgia on my phone. I'm as honest as I can be about what's happening, but I still know she's going to have a million questions. I'll deal with those when they come.

The Rossi mansion looks cold and dark on an ugly, cloudy afternoon. The car drops me off out front and Saul's waiting for me at the top of the steps. He's my second-oldest brother and Renzo's underboss, and we've always had a pretty good relationship. Though I'm not happy to see him right now.

"You're going to hate this, but everyone's here," he says as I head up the steps dragging my suitcase behind me. He comes down and takes the bag before passing it off to one of the guards with instructions to make sure it follows me to the airport when I leave.

"Everyone?" I try to peer past him but the door's closed.

"Gian, Allegra, Carlo, Alana, Molly, the kids, Renzo and Maddie—everyone."

"Great, the whole family's here to witness my funeral." I lean against one of the columns and give my brother a hard look. "Did you at least try to talk him out of it?"

"You know I didn't."

"Yeah, figured. You always were the rule follower, huh?" I give him a tight smile and lightly punch his shoulder. He grunts in reply. "Even though you don't deserve it, I'll miss you."

"You're not gone forever," he says and puts an arm around me. I lean into the hug. "Davide already promised to let you spend summers here."

"But it'll never be the same, right? I'll be a visitor."

"Stef, you'll always be our little sister, no matter who you're married to or where you're living. Now, are you ready to get this over with? You have a flight in a few hours."

I whistle Chopin's Funeral March and let Saul steer me inside.

Saul wasn't kidding—everyone really did show up. The whole family plus some of the more important Capos and soldiers are lingering around the house like they're having a party. The kitchen staff serves brunch on the back porch and the kids are playing out in the garden, running through the butterfly bushes, and making a mess of the freshly planted gardenias. I'm given a mimosa and handed off from person to person, giving out hugs, accepting congratulations and what feel like condolences, and not a single member of my family asks how I'm feeling.

Because they all know. Each and every one of them went through their own strange relationship hell, from Renzo's business agreement with Maddie down to Carlo's arrangement with Alana. I'm not the only Rossi marrying a person I don't love, but it's not much of a comfort, because all their relationships worked out.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck with freaking Davide, who is apparently nowhere to be seen.

One mimosa turns into two and I'm starting to relax enough to have a normal conversation with Maddie and Allegra about motherhood and dealing with rambunctious little kids when Renzo appears at my elbow and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"It's time," he says and gives me a moment to wave goodbye to everyone before steering me inside.

"This is the weirdest wedding in the world," I say as we head to his office, my heart hammering in my chest, nerves rolling in my stomach. "I mean, it kind of feels like I'm attending my own wake. That's really fucked up, right? Everyone's talking around why we're all here, but nobody wants to come out and say, oh, poor Stefania, it must suck you have to marry a guy you don't know and don't particularly like, but I almost wish we could just talk about it, you know?" And now I'm babbling because I'm afraid, but Renzo's not slowing, and I can see Davide standing by his desk.

A strange moment of calm descends the moment I'm next to my future husband. He's here alone, without his normal pair of bodyguards, and he's wearing a nice suit for the occasion. His face is shaved and his hair is pushed back, thick and stylish, and I have to admit that he's still extremely handsome in a rakish and terrifying way. I'm reminded why I lost my mind with him in the bathroom of Carlo's club, and why I've been thinking about him shoving my underwear in my mouth ever since.

And now standing next to him, I'm suddenly curious. What kind of man is he? What is his life like, and how am I going to fit into it? All my nervous worries have been theoretical; I've been afraid of the idea of getting married.

But this is the reality of my life. This man, Davide Bianco. I know almost nothing about him except for the few short interactions we've had, and those left me with this strange desire, like I hate him for how it all started, but I also want more.

"All it takes is a few signatures," Davide says, speaking quietly as Renzo prepares the paperwork. It's just the three of us. "Are you ready?"

I look into his eyes, and I feel clearer than I have since I decided to go through with this.

"I'm ready when you are," I tell him.

He nods and slips his hand into mine.

I stare down as his large hand dwarfs mine and my heart starts to flutter again as a strange, excited adrenaline courses down into my toes. His palm is warm and his fingers are callused, and I can feel the burn scars like a strange textured skin. I'm surprised he's letting me touch them, but instead of feeling afraid, it only makes me more fascinated.

Renzo clears his throat and straightens the papers. Davide goes first—he signs in four spots, writes out the date, and that's it. I sign next and wish I didn't have to let go of his hand to do it. For some reason, that simple, human gesture helps make this that much more bearable.

"And now you're married." Renzo shoves the paperwork into a folder. "I'll give you two a second." He slips out the door and leaves me alone with my husband.

Davide faces me. His eyes stare into mine and I can't tell what he's thinking. Is he nervous like I am? Is he ready to bring his new wife home? If he's wondering who the hell Stefania Bianco really is, then we're going to find out together.

"That was an interesting ceremony," he says and a smile presses at his mouth. Does my new husband have a sense of humor?

"You should've seen the reception out there. I wouldn't have been surprised if I walked in here and found a casket with my name on the lid."

He laughs and brushes the knuckles of his right hand across my cheek. I note that he's holding his burned hand behind his back, almost as if he's trying to hide it now.

"There's only one thing missing." He reaches into his pocket and takes out a simple golden wedding band. "I'll have a real ring for you back home, but this will have to do for now."

"Right. I should wear a ring." I stare as he slips it onto my finger, and I'm surprised that it fits. But maybe I shouldn't be. Davide seems like the kind of man that would do his homework.

"You're my wife now, Stefania." He holds up his left hand, and I stare at the burns before noticing the gold band he's wearing. "And I'm your husband. Even if neither of us wanted this."

"Wow, you're really sweeping me off my feet."

He steps closer and places a palm on the small of my back. "Is that what you want? To be swept away?"

"I want to go back to my apartment, bury my head under a pillow, and pretend like this never happened. Swept away is a close second."

He smiles and his lips dip down toward mine. "You know what's disappointing? Nobody told me to kiss my new bride."

My chest heaves and my heart feels like it might burst through my spine. "We don't need to do that," I say, panicking a little as I think about the last time he was this close to me and how much of a disaster that was.

And how good it felt.

"But why wait? We might as well get used to each other."

"Wow, that's what every girl wants to hear."

He smiles and his lips kiss my chin, up my cheek, and pause at my ear. "Would you rather I say how badly I want you right now, baby? How I've been thinking about you with your panties hanging out of your mouth as you came on my mouth since that night? And kissing you is the only way I can stop myself from taking more from you?"

I bite my lip hard and shake my head. "I don't know if I want to hear that."

"Too bad, baby." Then his mouth finds mine and I'm lost to the world for a few seconds as a blinding excitement slams through my body. God, this man can kiss. It's even better than the first time. There's so much promise in the way his tongue slides against mine and his hands hold onto my hips like this is only the first of many more to come. It's like he's tracing a list of all the filthy things he wants to do to me in my own mouth, and I'm sitting here taking it and only wanting more.

But the kiss can't last and neither can that feeling. We break apart and his hands fall away as he moves over to the door.

"Now I think we're ready to go," he says.

And reality comes crashing down as we head out to the airport and fly out to Chicago. My new home.