Page 12 of Princess of the Mafia

A princess ready to be handed over to a monster.

She twirled me around to face the mirror. My throat bobbed up and down in the reflection as I choked down my tears. She was right. I looked like a princess. The dress was simple and elegant. It was outrageously sexy but innocent. Exactly what Divya was known for. The strapless bodice, embossed in ivory flowers, hung on to my breasts for dear life. The puffed sleeves clung onto the bodice and the rest of the dress flowed freely in chiffon, giving the illusion of being see-through. I hoped this dress would give Lorenzo a kick to the balls. Because that’s what I was planning to do, even though inevitably, I knew there was nothing I could do as a woman, other than lie down and take it, and hope I survived.

My eyes clashed with Mamma’s in the reflection. She smiled tensely, her jaw tight with emotion. Fake smiles and tight jaws were our communication tools these days. “Molto Bella, tesoro mia.” My smile wobbled, so I turned and twisted and whirled and let an empty laugh hollow out of my chest and cheated my family of honesty. I halted the moment Mamma left the room. Divya squeezed my hand from behind me. My gaze caught on the girl looking back at me in the mirror. I didn’t regret agreeing to this marriage. It was more of a business contract anyway, only with the duration of a lifetime. But it was only mine. One day, I’d be dead, and this would all be just history. It was only my life, and if I had not agreed, it would have been others before me, I was sure. But Orietta’s words twisted in my mind. If a man like Martello took my virginity, he’d own me! You think I am going to give a man a power like that over me? I already knew that was going to be my regret. Giving him my virginity and all that power over me. I wished it wasn’t going to be like that.

One of the servants came and put a plate of mangoes on the stool next to the window. I absentmindedly reached for it only to have my hands whacked away.

“Really, Daria? Mango stain on your wedding dress is not a nice look,” Divya chided me.

“Don’t they wash off easily?” I asked her absentmindedly. I was not sure why, but a slow blush tainted her cheeks. I didn’t even know she could blush with her darker skin. “What? What did I say?”

She shrugged it off. “Let’s get you out of this dress before you get it dirty.”

She worked tirelessly on the tiny buttons in the back of my dress while the word ‘virgin’ swam around the room like a thick fog.

“Were you a virgin?” I blurted out.

Divya’s head appeared in the mirror. “What do you mean? Weren’t we all at some point?” She gave me a cheeky grin before continuing with the buttons.

A sigh of relief left my body. At least she didn’t shut me down like Mamma had when I brought the V card up. Orietta was no help, and I could hardly ask Lia. There was only a year between Divya and me, but I felt she was wiser. More experienced.

“Were you a virgin when you married Antonio?” I tried again.

“Oh, no. He wasn’t my first relationship. Anyway, first times aren’t that great.” She grimaced before she caught herself. “Wait?” She looked behind her and whispered in my ear. “Are you a virgin?”

Her surprise spoke volumes. She was always so open-minded that I forgot that she wasn’t born in the Cosa Nostra like we were. “Yeah, that’s the Cosa Nostra for you,” I muttered. “A virgin at twenty-four is normal.”

“Oh, and I said…” she trailed off, her face scrunched in a frown. “Just ignore what I said.” She finished unbuttoning the buttons.

“Divya, can you just be honest with me? I don’t have anyone else to ask.” She stalled and nodded thoughtfully. “Does it hurt the first time?”

She came around me and looked me in the eye. “The first time might hurt a bit. There might be some blood. But it’s also okay not to bleed. It doesn’t mean you aren’t a virgin. He’ll be gentle with you, I’m sure. Do you want me to ask Antonio to talk to him?”

“Ugh, no.” I cringed at that thought even as hurt and blood whirled in my mind. I didn’t know the man I was marrying, but he didn’t look like the type to listen to another man. “I’ll manage,” I squeaked.

Divya squeezed my shoulder with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay after the first time. With the right man, it’s amazing.” Her eyes dimmed as if her thoughts were on something else. Someone else. “Now go change so I can get the dress pressed.”

I rushed off to change out of my suffocation trap. When I took it off, my skin had turned red with my own agitation. But the suffocation I felt didn’t release even though the dress lay on the bed. My hands quivered as I put on the pink frilly dress I’d worn when he had come. Mamma wanted me to be all dressed up for the family that was constantly passing by for the wedding. A thick sense of tiredness overtook me. It was never what I wanted. I had to dress to please others, never for myself. I was someone’s daughter, and now I was going to be someone’s wife, when I simply wanted to be Daria. It was too late now. I had signed my own fate by saying I’ll marry you. No three words had weighed heavier in my heart.

I got back to Divya, who was sucking on a mango seed, her hands gone all yellow. She did love her mangoes.

I dropped the dress on the dining table just as Antonio walked in. Something sparked in his eyes the moment they fell on his wife, sucking on the mango. The shift in the air was almost tangible. Silent communication passed between the two. He didn’t even acknowledge me, and I felt like the outsider I was. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly to her. Minchia! These two were hot together. It was like they lived in their own world.

It had been a miracle when Papà had approved their marriage. In all honesty, I think even he knew he would lose his consigliere if he didn’t because Antonio didn’t hang around for approval. But it brought us girls hope. That maybe we could marry outside the Cosa Nostra. Maybe there was such a thing as true love. What a joke. It looked like they might be the only exception to the rule.

A heavy twinge of jealousy overtook me, and it ran in my veins, all thick and heavy. Divya rushed off to wash her hands, in a hurry to leave as much as Antonio, who was following her every movement with his eyes. That type of devotion I’d seen nowhere else. Then how could I miss something I’d never had?

CHAPTER SIX

DARIA

Papà stood at the end of the dark corridor. Rain clattered on the skylight between us. Pitta pat. Pitta pat. He looked the same. Just like he always did. His smile could warm my bones, just like it always did. I knew it even if I couldn’t see it.

“Papà?” I choked out. It felt so tangible. Even though I knew it was a dream. A yearning to grab and to hold overtook me. But I stood frozen. Not a twitch in my muscles that made me move.

He stepped towards me. Each step he took brought a thump to my heart and brought him closer to me. I knew what he would do. He always did the same. Even in my dreams. His hands would touch the crown of my head and stroke it. His touch would feel the same, and he would whisper, “It’ll all be okay, Ria.” Over and over, that’s all I’d dreamed from the moment I’d seen him, covered in crimson. I was sure of it.

Except this time, words never spilled from his mouth. A flash of light and he stood illuminated before me. But it wasn’t Papà anymore. Vitale stood. Dark. Covered in a fluid colored crimson. So much of it.

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