Page 1 of Claiming Vanessa

PROLOGUE: VANESSA

Ican barely breathe.

Each one of the priest’s words brings my sister Lucia closer to marrying one of the biggest monsters I’ve ever known. Emilio Pavone, the man who had three of his previous wives disposed of, who had our father murdered in front of our eyes, has insisted on a religious wedding, and I can’t help but be bitter at the hypocrisy of it all.

After all the things he’s done to my family…

I try to keep up with what the priest is saying, waiting for my cue to read the verses from the bible I’m supposed to repeat, but it’s so hard to focus. When some of the guests laugh, it pulls me back into the moment. What could possibly be funny at a time like this? I look from Lucia’s blank face to Emilio’s smug smirk, and I wish I could object to this farce.

The priest doesn’t seem to care that Lucia clearly doesn’t want to be there. “Of course, the real reason we join in this most holy union is to honor God and bestow the gift of life on the next generation. One man and one woman, together, embody that which is most sacred. Apart, they are nothing. But together, they share the love of God and pass it on to their children.”

What love? What sanctity? There is nothing about Emilio Pavone that embodies anything holy. I resist the urge to wipe my eyes, averting my gaze from Lucia as the priest continues.

I notice Damien Rossi staring at me. Emilio has chosen his consigliere to be his best man. Although Damien hasn’t been half as violent as Emilio, I still remember his invasive questions, his creepy touches, the terrible photo shoot I’d had to endure at his whims. The way he looks at me, as he’s looking at me now, like he wants something more from me.

I hate myself for having thought he was handsome when I’d first met him. A few inches taller than my 5’11,” with intense brown eyes and dark, subtly curled hair. He’d shaved for the wedding, but normally there’s thick stubble on his jaw.

But none of that will ever change the fact that he’s just as responsible as Emilio Pavone for the hell Lucia and I have gone through these past few months.

“Now, the friends and family of the happy couple will read some bible passages to guide and bless them.”

That’s almost my cue.

Others from Emilio’s side of the family step forward with their own offerings, all about a woman’s duty and family. Then it’s my turn, and I take a shuddering breath and make my way to the pulpit. My hands shake as I place the cue cards down in front of me.

Don’t cry, I remind myself. This is all for Lucia. I can’t risk making things worse for her.

“Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, His body, and is Himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands.” The words come out in small, stumbling bursts. It feels like a cruel joke.

No, I know it is, because Emilio had specifically handed me this passage to read. He wants to drive it into Lucia that he owns her now.

When I’m done reading, I step away, almost bumping into Giulio, Emilio’s adult son. Giulio is older than Lucia’s twenty-two years, even, probably in his early thirties, and he’s far more handsome than his father. Despite the formal occasion, he showed up with his tie already loosened and the top button on his shirt collar undone. The frosted tips on his hair make him look out of place in the church, more suited for the beach.

He winks at me and pats me on the ass before taking his place to read some equally inane passage. I bite my lip to keep from yelping, and if I wasn’t so frazzled, if this wasn’t such a public place with so many mafiosi, I might’ve glared at him for it. As it is, my cheeks flush red, something I know my makeup can’t hide.

I return to my mother’s side, glancing over at her. She’s wavering on her feet, a testament to just how many drinks she’s already had. I can’t even imagine how drunk she’ll be by the time the reception is over, but she made it perfectly clear to Lucia and me that it has nothing to do with the fact that Lucia’s being married off to Emilio.

It’s almost funny, watching you about to enter the same hell I’ve been in, she’d told us only minutes earlier. I blink back tears. I don’t want to think about her, about how dismissive she’d been of both of us, of how she’d stumbled up the aisle with Lucia without care.

Once everybody’s said their part, the vows will begin. And whatever hope I had of escaping with Lucia will be over. Our mother isn’t going to help us, and no one else will.

Giulio finishes speaking, the silence drawing me back into the moment. He returns to his spot.

Here it is, the beginning of the end.

The vows begin, and I fight to keep my tears from falling. I have to be strong for Lucia—Lucia, who’s always been strong for me. If she’s not weeping as she speaks her flatyeses, then I can hold back too.

I—

There’s a loud sound, almost like fireworks being set off, but that doesn’t make any sense. Confused, I look out over the crowd, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from. It takes my rattled brain a moment to identify the noise. It’s not fireworks.

It’s gunfire.

Somebody screams, and that seems to wake everybody up. Men jump up, drawing weapons.

Emilio immediately grabs Lucia’s wrist and brandishes a gun of his own. He’d been armed, at his own wedding.

“Where the fuck are you?” Emilio shouts into the church at large. “How fucking dare you ruin my fucking wedding, you shitstain. I’m going to murder you!”

---