Page 3 of Saint Of Envy
“Get down,” he says as he reaches his arm out protectively and pushes me down in my seat to avoid the gunfire.
But Leonardo’s men aren’t fast enough to stop him as Luc races past the cathedral and drives away.
I look out the side mirror of the car and catch sight of Leonardo as he steps out of the church to watch the tail end of the chaos and the car that Luciano speeds away with me in. Even from a distance, and in the mirror's distortion, I can see the seething rage on Leonardo’s face. I only hope that he doesn’t take that rage out on my father in my absence.
CHAPTER 2
LUC
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Vincent says, half-joking but also half-serious as he adjusts his tie while we walk toward the church.
The wedding between Leonardo Conti and Valentina Ricci will begin within the hour, and I can’t shake the sick feeling in my stomach over the whole thing.
“Leave him alone,” Isla says gently as she smiles up at her husband. “You’re the one who invited Luciano to come along with us to Italy for this wedding to begin with. Why invite him if you’re just going to torment him over being here?”
“I invited Luc as extra protection,” Vincent answers her matter of fact. “One can never be too sure with Leonardo; the man has the temper of a cat in a hot bath.”
Isla shoots me a sympathetic look, and I try to hide the fact that I am uncomfortable with this whole thing. It’s not a secret to my cousin that I’ve adored Valentina from afar, but Vincent doesn’t know that I snuck off to see her a couple of weeks ago. Discovering that would definitely not be well-received, becauseit would undermine the already tenuous relations between the two mafia families. Leonardo’s guards fear him too much to mention I visited his estate during his absence. Otherwise, he would have already come after me.
“What kind of stupid thing are you implying that I might do?” I respond to Vincent bitterly. “It’s not like I’m going to start a war between the families inside a church filled with armed mafia dons and their men.”
“Good,” Vincent chuckles as he takes Isla’s arm and walks inside to be seated. “Just checking.”
As soon as I follow them inside the church, my head fills with the memory of my night with Valentina—the soft, warm touch of her skin, the smell of her hair as it tangled around her shoulders while I thrust myself into her. And perhaps even greater than the physical pleasure of it all was the haunting, unhappy look in her eyes.
I take my seat next to Vincent and glance around the church. The Conti family fills a solid portion of the pews, along with other notable families and their higher-ups. We’re seated midway between the altar and the exit, in a respectable seating position, but one that clearly shows the Morettis aren’t high on the Conti family’s list of friends. I watch as Leonardo Conti appears at the front of the church to greet his guests. That man is such a pompous ass, even as far as mafia bosses go. He’s always calculating his next move to expand power and eliminate his rivals, but he hides his ability to manipulate and seduce beneath a fake charm and polished etiquette that conceals his darker intentions. His cold charisma doesn’t fool me one bit. He’s an entitled jackass who believes deeply in his inherent right to power, status, and control over others. I’ve heard he derivessadistic pleasure from controlling women. To me, that makes him weak.
When he walks over to greet Vincent, I stare directly at Leonardo’s calculating eyes. He, like the rest of us in the mafia, is always assessing for weakness in those around him. His expensive, perfectly tailored suits and lavish wedding ceremony might project wealth and power, but he’s merely compensating for profound, unredeemable moral failings.
“Thank you for coming,” Leonardo sneers as he shakes Vincent’s hand.
It never ceases to amaze me how these Dons dance around each other with formalities. If I were a Don, I would cut the crap. My strength would be my genuine disinterest in posturing around other men, especially with the likes of Leonardo Conti.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Vincent says with a cold, polite smile.
Even though they have had occasional dealings here and there, the two men are rivals, not friends. As is apparent from how Leonardo’s broad-shouldered and physically imposing build hovers over Vincent’s seated position. Vincent’s presence is just as intimidating as Leonardo’s is, but it would be rude of him to stand in the pew during Leonardo’s ceremony, so he remains seated and simply shakes the bastard’s hand instead.
Leonardo greets Isla, kissing the top of her hand when it’s offered to him, before looking at me. It amuses me how we’re almost the same age, yet Leonardo has a light streak of silver shooting through his impeccably groomed dark hair. Perhaps that means his days on this earth are fewer than he thinks. He doesn’t bother greeting me with more than a nod and a sarcasticremark, considering me a lesser rival and underestimating me because of my disciplined and inferior position as consigliere.
“Fitting that you should bring such a Saint into the church,” he chides, referring to my reputation that remains elusive from my cousin.
I quickly dismiss his taunt before it raises any suspicions from Vincent that I might have my agenda within the family hierarchy and treat the remark as a benign compliment.
“We can’t all be as Godlike as you now, can we, Leo?” I ask with a smirk.
I can see in his eyes how much offense he takes at my calling him “Leo”, and I catch a look of warning from Vincent. Leonardo is driven by an insatiable hunger for respect and absolute power, so offending him at his own wedding is a bad idea as far as Vincent is concerned.
“I think I’ll catch a moment of fresh air before the ceremony begins,” I say as I stand to excuse myself before tensions rise further.
“Good idea,” Vincent says beneath his breath as he lets me out of the pew.
As I walk out of the church, I glimpse Leonardo walking toward his place at the altar, showing that there isn’t much longer before the ceremony will commence. It’s at that exact moment that I get a strange feeling—a hunch, or a sixth sense perhaps — that Valentina might do something reckless.
I step outside the church and walk around the side of the building, noting that Leonardo’s men guard only the front of the church since there is no back exit to the building. But there arewindows all along the sides of the building. I peer into a few of them, and then I see the one window that Valentina is in. She’s standing there inside the small room, staring at her stunning reflection in the mirror. But there’s a look of rash determination in her eyes, one that hints at her doing something unexpected, something that might get her in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.
I thought previously that this entire situation was hopeless, that she would devoutly go through with this arranged marriage in allegiance to her familial duties, whatever they may be. But now, as I catch a small glimpse of her through the window, I’m not so sure about that.
As the music inside the church plays, and the doors at the entrance close, I make the choice not to go back inside. Instead, I head to my car, start the engine, and pull up alongside the narrow street that buttresses the cathedral. I don’t know why I’m sitting here in my car waiting for something to happen with no clear sign that anything will, but it beats seeing Valentina walk miserably down the aisle looking beautifully tortured in her gown as she marries a man that deserves far less than her. As much as I want to see her, I don’t think I can stand seeing her marry that man.
