Page 55 of Third Degree

It was shimmery… like with silver glitter sparkles all over it. It resembled one of those dresses from theToddler and Tiarashow. The bottom of the dress was obnoxiously poofy. It had large, off-the-shoulder, poofy sleeves. It was so low-cut that my breasts were falling all over the place as they cinched me up with the corset.

This wasn’t the dress of my dreams. This was the dress of my mother’s dreams.

“Che bella!” Rina exclaimed as the seamstress started to bustle the bottom of it and pin me.

“Ow!” I exclaimed as one of the pins went into my thigh.

“Be nice.” My mother tsked as tears formed in her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” I asked, and I had to admit it came out bitchier than I had intended it to.

“You are my only daughter. I just never imagined I would actually see this day, and now it is here.”

“But it isn’t the day that I dreamed of,” I retorted back to her.

“I know, cara mia.” My mother’s tone softened as she came over to me and fixed one of the fluffy sleeves. “It’s just what happens in our way of life. We have to marry a man that we don’t always pick for ourselves. But look at me and your papa. We found love with each other. A mutual respect.”

“And I love that for you,” I repeated what I had learned in my years of therapy. To always compliment first before delivering my blow. “But I don’t think it’s a hard ask for me to want something different. If anything, this last decade of me being gone has shown you that I can do it on my own.”

She tsked. “Our pasts will always catch up with us.” Then she hugged me. “I wish I had been given what you were. I wish I had at least been able to spend ten beautiful years away from this way of life with no threats hanging over my head.”

God, I felt so bad for my mom. I could’ve not had what I did. Never tasted that freedom that I had so desperately needed.

“I heard he is a good man. A legit man.” So, he wasn’t someone who constantly dealt with the ins and outs of the family.

“If you are lucky,” my cousin said. I had almost forgotten she was in the room. “Maybe he will let you live in California alone and have you just visit for events.”

I threw my hands up in a gesture of annoyed excitement.

“Woo.” Anything but excitement laced my tone.

“Stay still,” the seamstress barked from the floor, and I looked around the room and ran my hands through my hair. This was where my life was.

“Tomorrow is the big day, cousin!” Rina exclaimed while slipping into her bridesmaid dress, which was an obnoxious neon-pink color. Not exactly what I would have chosen. But hey, at least it matched the pouf in the dress.

“Thrilled,” I retorted.

My mother batted my arm, and I rolled my eyes, acting like the annoying child I felt. Once the seamstress finished with the dress, I put my clothes back on and then walked back to the garden.

They were setting up a large mirrored arch in the back where the greenhouse was. At least in there, I could be myself, even if it was going to be the very last night I had that chance.

My last night as a single woman and I was spending it with my plants.

19

Elio

I had just arrived in Chicago and settled into the hotel, located a short distance from the house.

Ricardo, Julian, Alex, and I were scheduled to meet with Angelo Ricci later in the evening to finalize the necessary documents. They were set to join me here in the room before the Ricci family’s arrival.

Julian also insisted on bringing additional security, including his friends Christian and James.

I hadn’t uttered a word to Daphne in the agonizing span of eight weeks. It tore me apart, keeping her in the dark, but it was a necessary measure to ensure her safety. I couldn’t risk her accidentally exposing our plan to her guards or someone within the family.

I didn’t want her reaching out to me, fearing that if any retribution came our way at the wedding, she might be implicated as if she had been in on the scheme all along.

So, I did what I had done to Bea: I kept her oblivious to it all. When Bea asked me to leave the family, I lied and told her I had cut ties for good.

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