Page 119 of Savage Union
My mother studies my face, seeing too much as she always has. "Because of the Irish," she concludes softly.
I stiffen. "How did you?—"
"I've been married to a mafioso for over twenty years, Caterina." Her smile is sad. "I recognize the signs of impending conflict."
Sofia moves to my other side, face pinched with worry. "Is it because of Liam?" she whispers. "Is that why everything's happening so fast?"
The stylist continues working on my hair, pretending not to hear while obviously absorbing every word. I respond with careful vagueness.
"It's complicated." I squeeze Sofia's hand. "But yes, partly."
My mother's gaze sharpens. "What have you done, Caterina?"
The question carries no judgment, only the weary knowledge of a woman who has navigated these dangerous waters her entire adult life. Still, it stings.
"What I thought I had to," I reply quietly. "And now everything's changed."
Before she can press further, the door opens again. This time it's Elena, looking elegant but frazzled in a deep green dress that brings out the amber flecks in her caramel eyes.
"Jesus, Rina," she exclaims, taking in the bridal preparations. "You could have told me sooner you were getting married today."
"I didn't know myself until last night." I gesture for the stylist to give us space. "Could you check on the veil, please? I think it needed steaming."
The woman nods, diplomatically withdrawing to the adjoining bathroom with the excuse of gathering more supplies. The moment the door closes behind her, Elena moves closer, voice dropping to an urgent whisper.
"Did you tell him everything?"
"He overheard me talking to Liam," I confirm. "He knows about our arrangement."
Elena's face pales. "And you're still alive? Still getting married?"
"The wedding is happening precisely because he knows," I explain, the irony not lost on me. "It's strategic. Once I'm officially his wife, the Irish position weakens."
"And what about you?" Elena demands. "Where do you stand in all this?"
The question echoes the one Vito asked last night in the kitchen. My answer remains unchanged, though no less conflicted. "I don't know."
My mother places a hand on my shoulder, her touch grounding me as it has throughout my life. "Do you want this, Caterina? To be his wife?"
"Does it matter what I want?" The bitterness slips out despite my efforts to contain it.
"It always matters," she says firmly. "Even when we can't have what we want, knowing what it is gives us something to work toward."
I meet her eyes in the mirror, seeing the wisdom earned through decades of an imperfect marriage to a cruel man. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me," I say finally. "If marrying Vito today prevents that, then yes, I want it."
It's not the whole truth, but it's all I can articulate right now, even to myself.
Sofia, perceptive as always, studies me with narrowed eyes. "There's more, isn't there? You feel something for him."
"Sofia," my mother admonishes gently.
"It's okay," I assure her. "She's right. It's... complicated."
Elena snorts. "That's one word for it."
Before the conversation can continue, we hear the distinctive sound of the elevator arriving, followed by male voices in the main room. Vito has returned.
My pulse quickens automatically, my body reacting to his proximity even as my mind remains conflicted. I rise from the vanity, drawn to the doorway despite knowing I shouldn't be seen in my half-prepared state.
