Page 275 of Merciless Desires

At least I didn’t have to worry about being pregnant by said stranger…yet, anyway.

My hormones that were currently making me feel like I was bleeding out between my legs were also making me tear up at the thought of wearing a damn wedding dress.

“I do, Mamma.”

“Then get it, tesoro. You look incredible, and I can’t wait to watch you marry Matteo in a few weeks.”

My smile slipped away, but I hid it from Mamma, turning to look at myself in the mirror again. She’d be watching me from Gisella’s phone again, looking at my back the entire wedding.

I sniffled, and Alessia placed her hand on my arm.

“If you cry in the wedding dress, it means it’s meant to be. You look gorgeous, Marcella. Matteo is one lucky coglione.”

“Good,” I replied and wiped at my tears. “Because its custom-made. If I hated it now, I would be screwed.”

I had fallen in love with the custom luxury dress when I found it while searching for wedding dresses a year ago. When trying on dresses with the capo wives, every single one paled in comparison to the glittering design I had my heart set on.

While they tried on bridesmaid dresses, I had sneaked off to discuss ordering the custom dress with the owner of the bridal boutique who was no doubt on Matteo’s payroll. They had jumped at the opportunity to please the future Mrs. Cortese, taken my measurements right away, and submitted the order for the gorgeous gown I’d never thought I’d get the chance to wear.

I was a complete hopeless romantic, having planned a fake wedding of my own when I was ten, but those plans didn’t work for my marriage to Matteo. No, those plans had been for the Marcella who got to marry the love of her life. The man that chose her and only her, and the man that had asked her papà for permission.

That wedding would have been full of love and light and happiness, and there wouldn’t have been armed guards posing as guests scattered in the crowd of strangers who were just there to watch their boss marry anyone.

There would never be a place for me in Matteo’s heart, only at his side. That was my role now. To keep up appearances, pretend to be happy and so in love until we were alone and would go our separate ways.

We’d sleep together as few times a month when I was ovulating to get me pregnant, and it would be for the sole purpose of procreation, not pleasure. We’d kiss in front of others and share scowls in secret.

But I knew, even if it felt irrational, that Matteo would take care of me. Not in the way I wanted, but in the way I needed. He would protect me because that was his vow.

Mine was probably to serve or something, but I didn’t want to think about it.

“Just because I want to play devil’s advocate…” Maria began and sat forward, tilting her champagne flute left and right while she chewed her bottom lip. “Try on the lace one you liked last time. If you’re still in love with this one…” She pointed the champagne flute at the skirt of my dress. “Then you’ll know for sure.”

“She doesn’t have to do that,” Lucia argued.

Maria turned to glare at her. “I hated my dress on my wedding day. Loved it when I tried it on, but it was all…wrong.”

“I don’t mind,” I offered with a shrug, and took Alessia’s outstretched hand.

She helped me off the pedestal and fluffed the dress in front of me so I could walk.

Mamma Cortese stood and helped me into the change room, pulling the door closed behind us. She unbuttoned the back of the dress, smiling at me in the mirror, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and forced a smile.

I held onto the bodice of the dress and turned to her, frowning. “Mamma…”

“Oh.” She gasped and covered her mouth. “It’s clichéd, isn’t it? To say I’ve always wanted a daughter…” Mamma Cortese shook her head. “I wanted more children, but Vittore wanted an heir…and that’s what I gave him.” She huffed a laugh. “No. I gave him everything. And it was never enough.”

Reaching up to push hair behind my ear, Mamma Cortese smiled at me. “But I know my Matteo is different. As much as he’s like his papà, he’s different all the same. I’m proud of the man he’s become, and I know the way you both…met isn’t quite like it is in the movies, cara. But I’ve never seen Matteo look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

The way he looked at me. I wanted to correct her, just to maybe hear her tell me I was wrong, but I couldn’t handle the harsh truth that I had ruined what could have been by reacting the way I had.

I just…wanted him to want me. Me. Not what I could be to him. Fucking me.

Mamma Cortese chuckled. “I told him to come out, but he said he didn’t want to ruin your bachelorette party.”

“What do you mean?”

She tilted her head. “My Matteo stood in the den and watched you for the entire bachelorette party, cara.”

---