Page 39 of Under the Influence
Huge eyes meet mine as she pulls away, shaking her head. "It's official that you are certifiable. That's four days from now! How am I supposedto–?"
An exaggerated throat clearing vibrates from the doorway. "Your champagne, Mr.Trivoli."
Mrs. Gibson holds a small tray with two tall flutes. Golden bubbles float to the rim in one; the other filled with less than an ounce. Impossible not to chuckle from the confusion on Books' face. Well aware of the questions filling her expression. "I told her to bring in the champagne when she heard you yelling. That would be the sign you saidyes."
Waving the housekeeper inside the den, I accept the glasses she offers, and hold out the almost empty drink to my beautiful fiancée. Adorable in herbewilderment.
“Congratulations Mr. Trivoli, Miss Anderson. I'm so happy for you." Her smile beams even brighter as she bows her head toward Chryseis. "I would be honored to assist you in your planning, if you would like myhelp."
Always gracious and elegant despite her shock, Chryseis grasps the older woman's free hand. "Yes, please. I would love that. Thankyou."
I can’t help but kiss her flushed temple and tuck her against me while they chat. Chryseis lamenting the madness consuming me. Interesting that Mrs. Gibson doesn't refute her arguments. I thought the woman liked me. Finally, they move on to mulling over locations and timing. Whatever it costs. Whatever she wants. Regardless of how rushed or crazy or expensive the wedding will be. Because for the first time ever, I'm genuinely at true peace. Content in the fact that she wants me and we'll always betogether.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Tucker accepts my hug with a tight squeeze and a kiss on the top of my head. Happy his friend is finally happy. Just like I am. “I thought I would be nervous, but I’mnot.”
“Good sign that you're marrying the right man.” The smile dims and his thumb jerks toward the door. “The guys will escort you to the back of church. I’ll meet you there,okay?”
The hesitation in his tone makes me think everything isn’t okay. “Is somethingwrong?”
An emotion I can't read flickers in his eyes although he seems confident when he shakes his head. “No. Just lots to manage with all the familieshere.”
A reminder of Gio's stature. My idea of a small, private wedding waned quickly from the obligation he has to the life he leads. An honor for the men to be invited and a sign of respect for them toattend.
Tucker’s lips brush my cheek. “See you in a fewminutes.”
Shame dampens a bit of my exhilaration from the reminder of who's not in the small chapel. The pews on both sides of the aisle filled with Gio's associates and their families. Without any members of mine. I always thought my Dad would walk me down the aisle. Following behind Sheena as my maid of honor. All I can hope is that the old expression is true. Easier to earn forgiveness than seekpermission.
They won't understand this impromptu marriage even once they know the truth. A truth I'm not even sure I can share, lest they be disappointed as well as more fearful of him and my decision. I've never been impulsive. Never irresponsible or impetuous. Now they'll think I'm all three. Rather than the normal conscientious and sensible woman they're used to. Instead, I’m letting go of that image to do what makes me truly happy. Believing in Gio and trustingmyself.
Deep down I know that’s what they want – for me to be happy. They’ll see that I am – we are – and with every passing holiday and birthday and baptism Gio will become more and more a part of the family. I stroke down the luxurious champagne silk draping across my stomach and hips. If you’re really in there little baby, know how loved and wanted you alreadyare.
A quick knock pulls me out of my thoughts. The door opens before I can answer, and a chill runs through me. Gio’s men would have more respect than to surprise me. Never risking the chance I could still bedressing.
“We’re ready MissAnderson.”
A man I don’t recognize fills the doorway. Speaking to me with a gruff voice although his smile seems sincere. His suit is crisp just like Gio demands. His hair neatly trimmed and shoes polished to a shine. But unease coils in my stomach from the scorpion tattoo peeking out of his collar. Gio’s men never have visible marks on them likethat.
Nodding to him, I ignore the goosebumps sprinkling over my bare arms. I’m just nervous. Today is my wedding day after all. “Okay, thankyou.”
I clutch my bouquet of blue tulips wrapped in Mrs. Gibson's silk scarf. Taking care of something borrowed and something blue. My grandmother's diamond earrings something old and my dress and shoes something new. Gio's band on my thumb. Ready to go. Eager togo.
He steps back as I pass by and another guard falls next to me. Not quite touching yet only a hair’s breath away. Similar in clothes and demeanor as the man on my right. I sneak a quick glance and my heart races from the same ink on the side of his neck. Mimicking the man who came forme.
They’re leading me toward the back of the church but Tucker isn’t waiting. Another unfamiliar man stands alert. The matching symbol on his throat. Part of the same gang. Or family. Not Gio’s family. Not Gio'smen.
Scanning the area over and over, he searches for something or someone. The pounding in my chest burns to my throat. Something’s so horribly wrong. Unable to keep up with their long strides, I pause. Needing to stop this. Needing to keep a massacre fromoccurring.
Angry fingers dig into my trembling arm. "Come on bitch. No changing your mindnow."
Bitch.
Gio would never talk to me like that. Gio would never allow his employees to talk to a woman like that. His grip only squeezes tighter when I twist away and the man on the other side grabs me too. Wincing from pain and fear and shame that I can't do anything to protect myself. Or Gio. Not even standing under my own power any more from them dragging me closer to thevestibule.
The man in front of us nods and the world spins around me. Their arms raise, the candle lights casting shadows and golden reflections on the metal in their hands as the heavy, wooden doors slowly slide open. My handsome Gio, proud and tall in his tuxedo, stands surrounded by white and red poinsettias in silver vases, waiting with Father Martin at the end of the short aisle. Waiting for me. Waiting for our life together to begin. Not expecting to be gunned down. Never anticipating anambush.
My voice chokes in my throat, and I shake my head. More pain than I ever could have imagined stabs my heart when the smile fades off his face. He thinks I’ve changed my mind. I have to alert him. Warn him of the real danger. Straining against the fists holding me, I lunge toward him and scream his name. Unable to reach him. The realization of our attack becomes apparent from the rage darkening his face. Gunshots ring out. Chairs topple. Men yell. But one sound pierces through all of the commotion. Gio screaming mine back tome.
