Page 15 of Killer Love

They can’t tell I’m looking at them. They can’t see the pain in my eyes, screaming at them to let me out.

And then, there’s Luka. He stands with stiff posture with his hands in his pockets, but he keeps his head down. I wish he wouldn’t. I haven’t seen him this closely since we were children. I need to know if those eyes I see in my dreams are still as comforting as they were before.

As we reach the steps, Yuri frowns at me. “I mean no disrespect, Gio, but what’s up with this black dress?”

Nina flashes him a scolding eye from her seat in the front pew.

Gio chuckles. “No disrespect taken, Yuri,” he says. He lays a hand on my waist and guides me over to display me for all the Lutrovas to see. “In Zappia tradition, a bride wears this gown for two weeks prior to the wedding. She spends that time in silent prayer and reflection to prepare herself for her new life.”

Yuri blinks. “But why?”

Nina glares at him again. Even Luka fires a quick, annoyed glance at his brother, and I catch a brief flash of his eyes in the light… along with the black ribbon tattoo swirling up the right side of his neck.

I bite my hidden lip.

Gio smiles. “A Zappia bride must be as pure as freshly fallen snow in every way,” he says. “White skin, white dress. Sofia isn’t even allowed to speak to anyone but her life maiden during that time. Not even me.”

“Life maiden?”

“A confidant — usually a family member or a close friend. In Sofia’s case, her little sister, Rosalie.” He gestures to the front aisle and Rosalie smiles from her seat next to Beatrix in the front pew, her cheeks filling with blood. “The bond between life maidens is sacred. For a woman to betray hers is punishable by death in Zappia law.”

“My goodness…” Nina whispers, clutching her chest. “That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

Gio waves his hand. “In all our family’s history, there’s never been a single instance of that happening. I don’t see anything ever coming between these sisters. I wouldn’t worry, Madam Lutrova.”

Yuri shakes his head. “Your laws are certainly something, Gio. I’ll give you that much.”

Gio squeezes my hand even tighter. “We might be old-fashioned but it’s not without purpose,” he says. “These laws have existed for hundreds of years and our family is more powerful now than ever. You’ve all heard the phrase—” He raises an enthusiastic fist. “Only a Zappia may rule in Italy. Obviously, we must be doing something right.”

“Obviously.” Yuri chuckles and pats Luka’s shoulder. “Maybe our family could learn a thing or two.”

Luka says nothing. Instead, he looks straight into my black veil and I finally see his eyes. That gray color pops, as fierce and bold as the rest of his features, and my knees sway beneath my gown. My fingers twitch with the temptation to reach for him but I force my hand to remain at my side.

Gio twists me around to face him, robbing me of my view. “Anyway, let’s get this rehearsal over with. The staff has prepared a wonderful feast for our guests and I’ve been smelling it all day.”

* * *

“Sofia?”

I cringe at the sound of my name and turn around as Gio lets himself into my room. He kicks the door closed and flicks his wrist to lock it behind him.

“I think I’ll miss the sight of you in your bridal robes,” he says, his eyes wandering up and down.

I’d hope the presence of company would keep him from coming in here tonight, but luck has never been on my side. I stand up from my vanity seat and his smile grows.

“It’s your last night in this room,” he says, licking his lips. “Tomorrow, you’ll finally join me in the master suite.”

He drifts even closer to me and I fight the urge to scream at him. I’ve suffered through two weeks of Gio sneaking in here late at night, trying to get me to break the vow of silence. It’s a little game Zappia grooms have played for generations: get your bride to speak and spend the wedding night punishing her for it.

I won’t give him the pleasure.

Gio holds out his hand to me. “Come here.”

I obey and extend my black, gloved fingers. He takes it and my skin crawls as he leads me to stand with my back against the wall.

He grips my shoulders first and I tighten every muscle to thicken my shell.

“Sofia…” he whispers, “are you looking at me? Tell me you’re looking at me.”

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