Page 25 of Bartered Innocence

I couldn’t wrap my head around what it all meant, but I knew my mother had taken Rian’s black card with glee and there has been a flurry of plans and discussions since then. I tried to stay out of her way, not caring what she landed on. I kept my head down while getting measurements, and now that I’m staring at the dress in the mirror…I have to admit my mother knows what I love.

The deep v of the front is snug to my breasts, lace flowers sewn all over. It tapers off at my hips, and the tulle skirt is embellished with more lace flowers. The back is buttoned up my spine, and the sleeves are a fine, sheer mesh that cover my arms.

“Tesora mia, sei bellissmia,”Papa says softly, cupping my elbow gently as he takes a step back to stare at me. Pride shines in his eyes.

I swallow, shoving the guilt twisting my insides away.“Grazie, Papa.”

“I never thought you would marry before your brother, but you’ve done us a great honor by agreeing to this marriage.” I’m sure he says that out of love, proud of what we’ve achieved, but I know he’d feel different if he knew the truth. The day after Rian visited our house, I debated telling them. While I knew they would understand, I didn’t want to see their disappointment. Things would never be the same after, and what Rian threatened would be true. People would avoid being associated with my family after the failed engagement.

“Perhaps you can ask Luca for some money to upgrade the restaurant because of my sacrifice,” I say sweetly to my father.

He gives me a frustrated look, his lips twitching before he shakes his head. “I prefer to stay under the radar. Though it makes it difficult when my children keep getting thrown in the spotlight.”

“You need to make the repairs, Papa.” My scold is light, knowing he’s not oblivious to the outdated items in the restaurant.

He waves off my concern.“Today is your day. We’ll worry about all that later.”

My father nudges me out of the small bridal room. The woman who did my hair left over an hour ago. I’ve been lingering in here by myself, not ready to face the rest of the day just yet. My mother came in and gushed about how beautiful I looked before being pulled away by the wedding planner. Times like this, I wish I had a best friend to confide in or even talk through my feelings with, but it’s always just been my brother and me. Ricky stopped by for all of two minutes, and now he’s sticking close to Luca because of the amount of Irish filtering in.

I probably don’t want to know how Rian managed to reserve St. Patrick’s Cathedral on such short notice. My mom had admitted she wanted a church closer to home, but Rian expressed it needed to be on neutral ground. Whoever decided that Manhattan as a whole is the criminal center of neutrality had a sick sense of humor or a vendetta against the Famiglia. Because everything in New York is Luca’sbut Manhattan. While Rian rules unchecked in Jersey and the Outfit rules Chicago, Luca is forced to share one of the richest, most powerful places in the country. I’ve never heard much about the cartels in the West, but I doubt they share pieces of territory.

Whatever deal they brokered is strangely respected. Manhattan is for all, a place anyone and everyone is welcome. I should have come to Manhattan to lose my virginity instead of following Sonia into Jersey. Perhaps I could have avoided all of this, but I doubt my first time would have been as good. I’ve listened to the whispers of the girls as they described the horror of their first time.

“Ready?”

I blink, face my father, and nod once.Ready as I’ll ever be.

My stomach turns as we head down the stairs to the vestibule of the church.

My nails dig into my father’s arm as we walk out and turn to face the nave. Under different circumstances, I would have found the sight stunning. The large columns on either side of the pews, the stained glass windows in the high arched ceilings. The black marble flooring with a long white aisle down the middle. My soon to be husband stands at the end on the red carpeted stairs. His bright eyes trail every inch of my body before meeting my face again, and the feral possessiveness swirling in them makes me shiver.

Tearing my gaze from his, I glance around and realize the church is nearly full. I’m not sure why, but I expected it to be emptier with such short notice. I guess a peace agreement hinged on an arranged marriage brings everyone out to witness. Each step down the aisle feels like a hand closing around my throat, and when my father kisses my cheek before placing my hand in Rian’s, I’m shaking with nerves.

Rian’s fingers squeeze mine as we take an additional step up the stairs and face the priest watching us curiously. He leans toward me, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You look angelic, Isabelle. An otherworldly beauty.”

My skin flushes at his compliment, and I’m glad he can’t see it. I squeeze his hands, digging my nails into him.

“You look like the devil I made a deal with.”

His chest shakes with silent laughter, and the priest scolds us with a look as he continues talking. His homily goes in one ear and out the other as the finality of the situation sinks heavily in my heart. I’m going to be married, the wife of a Made Man. And not just any Made Man, but one of the major players, which is pushing me straight from the shadows onto center stage.

Rian’s thumb rubs over the pulse on my wrist, his eyebrows crinkling. “Breathe.”

His hushed command has me pushing air out, and I inhale sharply, realizing how dizzy I was getting from holding my breath. My nose tingles with the sudden urge to cry, so I squeeze his hands, pushing everything I’m feeling into them.

Our gazes don’t stray from each other.

Understanding solidifies in his eyes, as if he’s sayingit’s okay I can take it.

I narrow my stare a bit, glaring and trying to communicatethis is all your fault.

His lips quirk, and I can almost hear him tauntingI know and I’m not sorry.

Then his mouth parts and he actually says, “I, Rian O’Callaghan, take you, Isabelle Romano, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

It’s straight to the point, and I’m glad he chose not to exchange any personal promises. I miss the strength of his hold as he pulls his hand away and slides the ring onto my finger. It’s gorgeous, a large marquise cut diamond with diamond clusters on both sides, but what makes my heart stop is that there is a small space that shows off the gold band before another diamond cluster on each side. I’m sure it’s a vintage style, and more than I could have ever dreamed for myself.

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