Page 24 of Now and Forever

Sure…a good man.

“Don’t fight him, Cat,” Aunt Maria said. “Relax and learn to enjoy it.”

Mom added with a tight smile, “Arianna mentioned twice yesterday during our talks that she’s excited to share grandchildren. It’s very clear, the famiglia expects Dario to produce heirs.”

Inhaling, I tried to remain centered. “Jeez, I’m surprised the Lucianos don’t want to see our sheets tomorrow.”

Camila’s expression turned sour. “That isn’t really a traditionanywhere, is it?”

“Mia didn’t mention that one,” Mireya said with a scoff. “But I could go ask.”

“No.”

We all turned to the knock. Mama went to the door, her smile broadened. “Andrés, you look handsome.” She opened the door wider, and Papá stepped inside.

His gaze focused on me. “Cat, you are…” He inhaled and scanned the dress and back to my eyes. “You’re the second most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” He stole a look at Mama.

My chest ached with a pain, the knowledge that Dario and I wouldn’t experience what my parents shared. As Em pointed out, Dario and I weren’t marrying for love. Maybe by the time our daughter walked down the aisle, we could learn to be friends.

“Shall we?” Papá asked, offering me his arm.

There wasn’t a plan B.

Today, I would marry.

Mama brushed my cheek with a kiss and handed me my bouquet, a cascading arrangement with white roses, gardenias, hydrangeas, and green vines made of mint leaves. Camila and Mireya in their silver bridesmaid dresses and carrying their smaller bouquets hurried in front of us. By the time Papá and I made it to the grand staircase in the Luciano foyer, the house was mostly empty. Only guards could be seen standing near the entries. The guests were all seated outside in the backyard beyond the room that was no longer devoid of furniture. We walked around numerous tables with lovely centerpieces.

Papá turned my way as we waited for our cue. “You’re making me proud.”

My stomach lurched at the profile of a man in the crowd. “Is Patron here?” I asked, thinking it was him I saw.

“Sí.”

I turned to my father. “Is he here to be sure I obey?”

“No, you gave your word. He’s here to celebrate your marriage.”

“Marriage.” I inhaled. “He sold me to the Italians. My children will be their children.”

“No, Cat. You will always be Ruiz, Roríguez cartel. It’s in your blood.”

Blood.

I realized at that moment that I’d forgotten to wear the thigh holster.

A shiver ran through me.

It was too late to go up to the bedroom and retrieve it.

If this was to be a red wedding, it would be my blood that would be spilled.

Papá and I stood in the doorway. The sun mercilessly shone down on the Lucianos’ gardens, casting the guests in a shower of sunlight. The corset of my wedding gown kept me from slumping forward as bile rose from my empty stomach, teasing my throat. Slowly and steadily, I inhaled and exhaled, swallowing my physical response. I couldn’t show my unease, especially not with our special guest. Doing so would be an unacceptable sign of weakness, one that wouldn’t be tolerated, not by my father, our family, or Dario’s family.

With my chin held high, my shoulders straight, and my hand resting on the sleeve of Papá’s custom suit, I kept my expression unreadable and faced the altar. As my father and I stepped onto the path, the music filled the air. Without prompt, the congregation stood.

The long path separating our two families was covered by a soft runner and dotted with red rose petals. I imagined each petal to be a droplet of blood, signifying the carnage that would occur if I ran away, turned around, or answered the priest truthfully when he asked the question of my willing sacrifice.

There was no escaping.

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