Page 85 of Diavolo

She willed herself not to rage at Malina. She reminded herself this whole situation wasn't the housekeeper's fault. Instead, she told herself to save her wrath for a bastard with brown and blue-gray eyes.

On Friday, two days before the wedding, Elyse traveled with Malina and Monte in a parade of cars, full of staff and bodyguards, to the wedding venue, Castello Balistreri. The 16th-century castle was located near Catania and Sirucusa amid centuries-old forests and citrus farms in the heart of the Sicilian countryside. Its neo-Gothic facade provided a majesticand timeless medieval backdrop for a large, grand wedding. A wedding fit for mafia royalty.

Within the castle, elegant halls were characterized by grand arches and rustic local stone and Sicilian terracotta. The internal courtyard of the castle led to a fully restored chapel, wine-making facility, an olive-press building, and a granary warehouse. Sadly, the magic of the venue was lost on Elyse. Her mind was elsewhere since she hadn't heard from her groom.

On Sunday morning, the day of the wedding, Malina insisted on pressing forward with their plans. As the housekeeper helped Elyse don her veil and gown, an overwhelming wave of anxiety and anger rumbled through her.

"Do not worry, Dr. Romero," Malina assured Elyse, "I promiseSignor Vitaleis flying to Palermo right now. He will meet you at the altar."

"This man better have a damn good reason as to why he hasn't responded to any of my messages," Elyse seethed in cold, quiet fury. "I'mthis closeto calling off the whole fucking wedding."

Malina grimaced. "I understand your frustration. Truly, I do. But you must believe thatSignor Vitalehas your best interests in mind. He will explain everything once he is here—"

Their conversation was cut short as soon as a team of makeup artists and hairstylists rushed inside Elyse's bridal suite to doll her up. At first, they refused to let Elyse sit in front of the mirror, claiming that it wasn't allowed for brides to see themselves before the wedding.

So, Elyse sat blindly, mirrorless, as her hair, makeup, dress, veil, garter, and jewelry came together piece by piece. When the finishing touches were, at last, completed, the women reluctantly allowed Elyse to take a peek. But only after she removed a glove, an earring, and a shoe. Tradition and superstition seemed deeply embedded in Italian wedding culture.

Once the glove, earring, and shoe were gone, a mirror was brought to her. Elyse's jaw fell agape as she stared at her reflection. She looked like a real bride, and Elyse forgot for the briefest of moments that her groom was quite possibly missing. That she was about to marry into the mafia.

Her heart stirred with a bittersweet ache.Today was her wedding day.It didn't feel entirely real. Elyse didn't know most of the guests. She didn't even know her bridesmaids. The girls had been selected from five different allied clans. Her father wouldn't be walking her down the aisle. Hell,Papádidn't even know she was about to be wed.

Malina informed Elyse that her grandfather would be the one to walk her down the aisle. Elyse had yet to meet Benedetto Graviano. It felt bizarre for their first meeting to occur on this day. The gesture would be wholly symbolic. Pure spectacle for the other clans tooohandahhover. A spectacle to cement the new alliance between the Graviano and Vitale clans.

At least, Elyse noted grimly, her dress was stunning. In contrast to the volatile emotions raging inside, on the surface, Elyse looked like an angelic, serene vision in white. The delicate gossamer gown featured a deepVneckline and translucently airy, billowing sleeves. Crystal beading sparkled all over the fitted bodice and intricate feathery embellishments were scattered lightly down the voluminous, layered skirt.

Elyse's silk tulle veil ended in a hand-embroidered lace applique edge. Its train trailed down to the floor behind her. This went against tradition. The length of her veil was supposed to reflect the length of her engagement. One meter per year. By this logic, Elyse's veil shouldn't even be a meter long.

Malina secured the veil atop Elyse's head with a small, elegant diamond tiara and beamed at her. "Signor Vitaleis lucky to marry a woman like you. Beautiful mind. Beautiful heart. Beautiful bride."

"Thank you, Malina," Elyse murmured with an uncertain gleam in her green eyes.

"Have faith," Malina asserted once more. "He will be here."

The rest of the morning zipped by in a blur. Before Elyse realized it, she was suddenly standing behind a pair of heavy wooden fortified doors outside the chapel beside a man of seventy-ish years with a grizzly head and dark, foreboding features.

This man was Benedetto Graviano. Her grandfather. He didn't speak a word of English. Elyse barely spoke Italian. They probably could've communicated through her Spanish and his Italian since the two languages shared more similarities than their English counterpart, but she held back. Again, Elyse didn't wish to disclose the scope of her linguistic abilities at the moment.

Thus, they had nothing to say to each other.

Benedetto was dressed in a smart black and white tux like all the other gentlemen in attendance. Without a word, he offered his arm to Elyse. She accepted it awkwardly.

A moment later, the sweet, poignant strings of Pachelbel's Canon burst into the air. The chapel doors swung open. High, arched ceilings stretched heavenward. Archaic stone and ancient-looking wooden beams held up the interiors. Bursts of fresh floral arrangements brightened the dark, gothic space while hundreds of guests filled rows upon rows of dark mahogany pews along both sides of the aisle. A priest was waiting for them at the end of the aisle.

As was Alessandro.

Elyse's heart nearly leaped out of her chest at the sight of him. He appeared so handsome. So beautiful. His dark hair was slicked back. His face was freshly shaven. He had never looked more regal or distinguished in his black and white tux. She couldn't believe her eyes. Her man was here. Her man was alive.

Once her initial wave of sheer, joyous alleviation dissipated, another emotion clawed its way to the surface. Elyse's gaze narrowed sharply. Her man was also a dead man for everything he had put her through over the past few days.

With her gloved hand tucked into the crook of Benedetto's elbow, Elyse and her grandfather marched in time to the melody toward her husband-to-be. The distance between her and Alessandro diminished with each passing step. Elyse's skirt and veil flowed behind her in a majestic display of silk and gossamer and tulle. To onlookers, Elyse might have looked every inch the blushing bride, but, in truth, she was a queen on a warpath.

While she fumed beneath her bridely facade, her groom appeared to be lost in a completely opposite frame of mind. Alessandro's brown and blue-gray eyes were hopelessly fixated on her as she walked down the aisle. He was very much like a fool in love, an enamored husband-to-be, who couldn't believe his godly good fortune.

His blissful expression only served to further antagonize Elyse's sour mood. The moment Elyse was within striking distance of Alessandro, she gracefully retracted her hand from her grandfather and proceeded to stun every single one of their guests by landing a hard, resounding slap across Alessandro's cheek.

The chapel erupted in a gossip-hungry buzz of bewildered speculation.

Brown and blue-gray eyes popped in shock."Cuore mio!"

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