Page 91 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Whose?” I knew the answer, but I breathed out the question anyway.

Mr. Crawford pointed a gun at Babbo. “Yours.”

* * *

“Get her shoes.” Crawford nodded at me but gave Lo the order.

She squeezed my arm before she rushed up the stairs.

“You knew about this?” I barely got out, staring at my father. I was pretty sure Crawford had shot him, but physically he looked fine. It also looked like the shirt had clogged the wound.

“Two hours ago,” he spoke to me in Italian. “I was to convince you to have a change of heart. I knew you would not.”

“You tricked me?”

“I prefer the word persuade,” Mr. Crawford interrupted. “And if Dr. Corvo is not enough persuasion…” He kept the gun trained on Babbo while he showed me his cellphone. It was a picture of Felice’s Ducati with him on it.

“That should make you happy,” I snapped at Babbo. I knew he wasn’t the mastermind behind this, but somehow my anger flew out at him. “Felice out of the picture. You getting what you want.”

“It does,” Babbo said. “But I am sorry it is happening this way. I wanted you to have the same experiences as your sisters.”

“You’d still want me to marry an asshole like Jack after what’s happening right now?”

“I refuse to allow you to marry Felice Maggio.”

“I have them.” Lo, coming down the stairs, lifted a pair of white tennis shoes.

“That’s the best you can do?” Crawford asked.

She made a face at him. “What did you expect? That she’d have a pair of heels to match?”

“Put them on her, smart ass,” he said.

Lo did. She gazed up at me, trying to communicate, but all we seemed to be saying to each other was:what the fuck are we going to do?I had no doubt Crawford was not riding solo. He didn’t seem like a stupid or careless man. He also came on a day when all the men were out. They were invited by the Maggios to visit Maremma, a coastal town in Tuscany known for thebutteri. Basically, Italian cowboys.

Felice.

I had no idea if Crawford had done anything to him. I doubted it, given who Felice was and who he belonged to. Even if Felice was untouched, my cellphone was in the church room. And Crawford seemed to be a creature with hidden eyes all over his body. There wasn’t a move we made he seemed to miss.

“Try it, bodybuilder Barbie,” he said to Talia. “I’ll blow daddy’s head off in front of all his precious daughters.”

Isabella grabbed Talia’s arm and yanked her toward her. Alina took her other arm. Talia showed no fear, and she was going to try to take Crawford out. I didn’t want to see my sisters get killed, or even Babbo.

I stepped up. “Let’s go.”

“Glad you’re finally coming to your senses.” Crawford nodded toward the door. “Walk.”

It felt like a short walk to the end of a plank. Crawford ordered Babbo and my sisters to follow me. He followed all of us. When we got outside, a strong gust of wind almost tore my veil off as rain pelted my face. The ground was saturated, and the Tuscan mud was already staining the pure white fabric of the dress.

Two cars with tinted windows waited outside. My sisters were ordered to get in one car; Crawford, Babbo, and I took the other. I was sandwiched between the two. Two men sat in the front seat. Babbo stared out of the window while Crawford gave the men directions. We were headed to a remote church somewhere in the countryside.

I glanced at myself in the mirror. Black streaks of mascara cascaded down my cheeks. My hair was sopping wet, along with my veil and dress. I’d be less than perfect for Alfonso and his son. I took perverse pleasure in that. It was the only thing keeping the blood in my veins warm.

Besides Crawford shooting off directions and the sound of rain and windshield wipers, the ride was silent. I wasn’t sure how long the trip took, but it only felt like seconds. This was where I’d be pushed from the plank and into my doom.

The church was set in the center of a field. We’d have to walk to get there. Crawford ordered my father to take my arm, while my sisters carried the train and veil. One of the driver’s finally came up with a genius idea and held a black umbrella over my head. This felt more like a funeral procession, but Jack’s smiling face killed the mood.

“I know you’re pissed off,” he said when we were almost face-to-face, “but you wouldn’t give in any other way. You won’t be sorry. You’ll realize one day this was for the best.”

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