Page 2 of Till Death Do Us Part

Sofia and Rosa have yet to marry, and Elisa got to marry for love, yet I must marry because my father told me to.

He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information about my upcoming nuptials. Every time I’ve asked, he’s only ever responded with how it’s my duty and an honour for our family that this union was requested.

There’s more to the story than he’s willing to tell me, but I’ve yet to figure out what any of it is.

“Do I have to do this?” I ask Sofia when she slips my dress out of the garment bag. It is truly exquisite with an a-line silhouette—the shape perfectly flattering for my small frame. White lace appliqués over an ivory slip and a scattering chapel train.

A dress made for royalty, yet I felt nothing the few times I tried it on.

“Yeah,” Sofia tells me, her eyes filling with tears. “I wish you didn’t, but you do, sweet girl.”

I hate that my sister is hurting over this and for reasons I don’t understand. There is little I know about the life I will marry into; only small pieces of information have been passed on.

We’ve lived in England for the last fifteen years, and our lives have been normal enough, but Sofia, being eleven years older than me, grew up surrounded by the Mafia. She spent her childhood being raised amongst them, by them.

Our papá was a Capo before we left.

Which is why this marriage is even more surprising.

Men don’t leave the Mafia—unless they’re in a body bag, and even then, the exit is bloody painful.

It’s unheard of to walk away.

Yet, our father was allowed to pick up his whole life and move across the world with no consequence.

Then when I turned eighteen, he was handed a marriage contract for me and a warm welcome back into the fold for him.

“Now, no moping,” Sofia tells me with a shake of her head. She lays my dress on the bed and grabs a bag from Rosa’s outstretched hand before thumbing through it and pulling out a bottle of tequila. Now I know I should be worried. “We need drinks, music, and then we’ll get you ready to get married.”

Stumbling over my feet, I barely make it up the stairs to the church without falling on my face and breaking my nose. I’d like to say it’s because the heels are too high—while that may be true, the giggles coming from behind me remind me much of my lack of graciousness comes from the many shots of tequila my sisters and I downed in my hotel room.

I doubt getting drunk on your wedding day is the most clever idea, but I’m five shots too late to worry about it now.

Papá tightens his grip on my arm, pulling me upright before I kiss the concrete.

“I can’t believe you girls,” he hisses in my ear. The glare on his face would probably be scary if I were not so tipsy. I find it rather endearing, cute even, the way his nose wrinkles as his eyes narrow at me.

When he runs his hands through his greying dark hair, letting out a sigh, I step into him and wrap my arms around his waist. “It’s all going to be fine, Papá, I promise.”

He blows out a long shaky breath, resting his palms on my shoulders. He pushes me back just enough that our faces are aligned.

“Do you have any idea how important this day is?”

“Nope,” I say, shrugging. “You haven’t told me anything. In fact, whenever I have asked, you’ve refused to answer any of my questions. So, forgive me if I have not taken this seriously enough for you. That is on you, not me, Papá.”

His hands tighten on my shoulders, the grip punishing. I wince under his touch but keep my back straight.

The last thing I want to do is anger my father, especially today, but biting my tongue isn’t something I’ve ever been good at.

“There are many things I have not told you, Pippa. Many things I cannot. But this union is important to our family, so when we get in there you are to be on your best behaviour. When you leave and fly to New York with your new husband, you are going to do everything that he expects of you. There can be no outbursts or disrespect towards him. No insolence. You will be the perfect wife to him. Do you understand?”

I nod, stepping away from him the moment he loosens his grip on me. While I understand his words, there’s something deeper in his tone I can’t read.

I move again, ascending the steps one by one, until I pause at the entrance of the church. My hands tremble as Papá slips my arm through his, pulling me closer as he guides us into the open arch and over the threshold.

He pulls me into a small room off to the side, letting me fall into a chair while we wait. Light sounds of a piano fill the room while candles flicker on almost every surface, casting a dim orange glow over the space.

Truthfully, the church is nothing less than magnificent.

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