Page 51 of The Virgin's Dance with the Devil
The best thing that had ever happened to him was gone, and he could blame Tommaso for those damned messages but Tommaso wasn’t to blame. He was. It was all on him. Everything. He was everything she said he was.
His phone rang again. A different ring tone. One he couldn’t ignore.
His heart heavier than he’d dreamed it could be, he answered it with a weary, “Yes?”
He closed his eyes, too drained to curse the caller relaying the worst news that could be delivered on the eveof his sister’s wedding. The mistress’s sister had escaped. A car had left Dante’s estate and driven to the nearest town. Callie Thomas had been seen getting out of it. Minutes later, Callie and her luggage had been seen getting into a taxi.
“What do you want us to do, boss?” Ciro, the caller asked. He was in the car tailing Callie’s taxi. “We can head them off, no problem. We’ve got the apartments ready.” The secure apartments Ciro and his team would take her to while Rico called his father. Rico would give the order for Callie to be snatched from the taxi; his father give the order for what came next.
What would come next? He doubted his father would order that she be hurt. He’d probably insist on every courtesy. However, he’d also insist that she be kept in the apartment until the wedding ceremony was done, and as Rico thought this, he thought of Niccolo and how wrong and disjointed he’d looked that morning. Their puppet on a string’s strings had been cut.
Niccolo didn’t want to marry Siena. Niccolo loved someone else. And when you loved someone…
You would do anything for them.
Rico loved Marisa. Rico had made a promise to Marisa.
Niccolo was going to attempt his own escape. Rico knew it with the same certainty that he knew his love for Marisa. And if he was successful, then Callie Thomas would be a valuable hostage for Rico’s father. A valuable tool for vengeance.
If anything happened to Callie, and Marisa heard about it, it would destroy her. Destroy her more than Rico had already destroyed her. And even if she didn’t hear about it, Rico would know. Rico would know he’d broken a promise Marisa had had more faith he would find a way to keep than he’d had. And he’d know an innocent woman had been hurt when he could have prevented it.
“Boss?”
He closed his eyes. All his life, his loyalty had been to his father and his family. He obeyed his father’s orders without question because those orders were always for the good and betterment of the family.
He expelled a breath then said, “There’s been a change of plan.”
“Boss?”
“Let her go. She’s no danger to us.”
Ciro was Rico’s man and knew better than to argue with him. “Sure thing, boss. Shall we keep tailing her?”
“No. You can all stand down. Go home and see your families.”
The call ended, Rico sent a message on the Esposito family messaging group:
Not feeling well. Going to get an early night. Will see you all in the morning, ready for the big day. Have a drink for me.
That done, he crawled into bed, curled himself into a ball, and finally let the tears run free.
Accardiano’s sky that early morning was already the most brilliant blue. By the time Rico’s sister made her vows, the sun would be high. The perfect day for a farce of a white wedding.
His phone was mercifully message-free. His mother had visited after the meal finished to check on him. Whatever she’d seen on his face must have solidified his lie that he was unwell, for she’d kissed his cheeks and left him to sleep. He guessed she’d told his brothers to leave him alone as the abusive messages that had flooded in off the back of Rico’s begging off the meal stopped.
He hadn’t slept for more than snatches ata time. He couldn’t explain how he felt. He didn’t think there was a word for it. He wanted time to fast forward to the wedding ceremony. Marisa would be part of the congregation witnessing the marriage. He would see her, and she would see him. In his heart, he knew there was little hope for forgiveness, but that didn’t stop foolish hope from forming that being in a church that preached forgiveness would soften her heart to him. All he could hope for was one more chance.
The first message of the morning pinged in. His mother checking on him.
He answered:
Well enough to attend the wedding.
It might be the last chance he ever had to see Marisa again, the wedding reception his last chance to watch her eat, the evening party his last chance to ask her to dance with him.
God, grant him one more dance with her.
The congregation filled the church. High-speed chatter and laughter echoed off the hallowed walls, a sense of excitement pervading the air. The church’s piazza was lined with armed security, there to stop the thousands-strong crowd who’d excitedly lined Accardiano’s streets from getting any closer. It was a circus out there, the press as rabid as the public. All this Rico absorbed subconsciously. His current task as groomsman was to guide guests on the groom’s side to their seats. The Rossellinis were guests of the groom. The Rossellinis had failed to arrive.
