Page 63 of Savage Union
"Please, sit." Father Alessandro gestures to the chairs arranged across from his desk. "We have much to discuss about your upcoming nuptials."
I take the seat nearest the door, positioning myself with clear sightlines to both exits—a habit ingrained through years of survival. Caterina sits beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap, knuckles white with tension. Despite everything, I find myself wanting to reach over and cover her hands with mine, to ease that tension. I resist the impulse.
"Normally, I would require several months of pre-marital counseling," Father Alessandro begins, shuffling papers on his desk. "But given the... circumstances, we'll condense the process."
"What circumstances would those be?" Caterina asks, her tone deceptively casual.
The priest glances at me, uncertainty flickering across his features. "I understand there are, ah, family considerations that necessitate an expedited timeline."
"You could say that," she mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I ignore the comment. "Three weeks from today, Father. Everything must be in order by then."
"Yes, of course." He nods solemnly. "The church has been reserved, and we can proceed with the necessary preparations.But first, I must ask some questions of you both. To ensure you understand the sanctity of the commitment you're about to make."
Beside me, Caterina shifts in her seat. A slight movement, but enough for me to notice. Her mind is elsewhere—likely still processing the shooting, trying to reconcile the fact that I pushed her to safety, that I chose to protect her over allowing Dante to shield me.
I'm still processing that choice myself. It wasn't calculated. It was instinctive. When I saw the car bearing down on us, my first thought wasn't for my own safety but for hers. An unusual lapse in my typically precise control.
"Don Rosso?" Father Alessandro's voice pulls me back to the present. "Are you listening?"
"Repeat the question," I instruct, not bothering with apologies.
"I asked if you both understand that marriage is a lifelong commitment, intended to unite two people in the eyes of God for the purpose of mutual support and the creation of family."
"Yes." My answer is immediate and firm. Traditional family structure has always been the foundation of our world. It's one of the few aspects of the old ways I respect.
"Miss Gallo?" The priest looks at Caterina expectantly.
She hesitates, then nods. "I understand the concept."
Her careful wording doesn't escape me, nor does it escape Father Alessandro. "It's more than a concept, my dear. It's a sacred vow."
"Is it sacred when it's forced?" The question slips out before she can stop it, her eyes widening slightly as if surprised by her own boldness.
Father Alessandro's expression clouds with concern. "Forced? I was under the impression this was a mutual decision."
Before Caterina can dig herself deeper, I interject. "What my fiancée means is that there are family expectations at play. As there always are in our world." I place my hand on her knee beneath the table, a warning pressure that she doesn't miss. "Isn't that right,bambola?"
She meets my gaze, a flash of defiance in her eyes before she relents. "Yes. Family expectations."
The priest doesn't look entirely convinced, but he's been the parish priest in a neighborhood controlled byLa Famigliafor too long to press the issue. "I see. Well, these... expectations... shouldn't overshadow the genuine commitment required for a successful marriage."
"We understand that, Father," I assure him, my hand still resting on Caterina's knee. To my surprise, she doesn't try to remove it.
"Good, good." He shuffles more papers, pulling out a checklist. "Now, let's discuss the specifics of the ceremony. Will you be following the traditional Catholic Mass?"
"Yes," I answer before Caterina can object. "Full traditional ceremony."
"Very well. Have you discussed who will be in the wedding party? Best man, maid of honor, groomsmen, bridesmaids?"
Caterina stiffens beside me. This is clearly a detail she hasn't considered—or more likely, has been actively avoiding thinking about.
"Rafa will stand as my best man," I say. "As for the rest, we'll provide a final list next week."
"And who will be giving the bride away?" Father Alessandro asks, making a note.
The question lands like a blow. Caterina's father is dead—by my hand. We both know it. The priest likely suspects it, though he would never say so directly.
