Page 1 of The Sicilian Brotherhood I

Dahlia

In thirty-five minutes, I’ll be married to a man I’m scared of. I have no choice. I’ve said “I love you” a thousand times. I’ve promised him that I’ll be the one to bear his children. Despite the hell he’s put me through, I made a promise to stand by his side and I can’t break that promise. Not even now. Not ever.

Even if I wanted to leave, he’d kill me if I tried. I’ve seen that look in his eye, the one that comes when he’s had too much to drink or when he’s dipped into the stash he’s supposed to be selling. He could kill me in a heartbeat. He still might someday. I don’t know what’s in store for me, but I know that Franco could kill me, whenever he chose.

His twin sister, Ana walked into my dressing room, interrupting my few moments of silence before the ceremony.

“Take this,” she said, handing me a small pale yellow pill and a glass of water.

“What is it?”

“Drink,” she said, “We don’t want you freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out. Where’s Franco?”

Her large blue eyes widened. She patted me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Franco. He’s coming.”

She didn't sound convinced.

“I told him it was a bad idea to work today.”

She took the water from me and set it on the table, folding her arms.

“Don’t worry about Franco, he’ll be here.”

“Where is he then?” I snapped.

Ana’s face grew stern. She pursed her scarlet-stained lips and she muttered, “Careful, Dahlia.”

I nodded.

“Sorry.”

“Once it’s over, you’ll be his wife,” she said, “It’ll be different.”

“How? We’ve been together for five years and it’s only gotten worse.”

“Nobody says no to my brother,” she replied, pursing her lips and then walking out of the room to avoid the guilt.

Ana sent the hairstylist back to work on my hair. She braided my thick, waist length hair into a fishtail braid that she positioned over my shoulder before she started weaving baby’s breath into the length of it. My natural hair clung to the thin branches of the flowers and the sweet floral scent filled the room.

We didn’t speak as she worked. I could sense a temerity in her from the moment we’d met. Women involved with the Italian biker gangs in this area usually carried that aura of intense fear.

I was one of the few women around here who hadn’t fallen into this against my will. I’d chosen Franco, the good, the bad and the ugly.

In 20 minutes, I would be married to him.

Ana burst into the room and started pacing back and forth.

“Dahlia, you need to call him. He’s not picking up, but Rico is already back.”

“Rico’s back?” I parroted.

This was not good. Franco rode out with the best man, Rico, at the crack of dawn and there was no good reason they’d return separately.

Ana nodded. She handed me my cell phone.

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