Page 63 of Righteous Deceit

I wait a beat, swallowing the roar of anger that has constricted my throat. “If there is nothing else.”

Lorenzo dips his chin, and I stand to leave. I’ve made it to the door when he stops me. “Diego,” he calls, and my nostrils flare in irritation. I don’t turn around.

“Maybe you want this more than your ego lets you believe. You never once said no and didn’t even consider asking for a way out of it.”

I turn then, but he holds up a hand to stop me from speaking.

“Don’t insult me by telling me you didn’t think that was an option. We’ve worked together long enough. You have your own moral compass and personal limits, and you express them when you feel it’s necessary. The idea of marrying Alessia does not repulse you, and that should tell you enough.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

ALESSIA

We chose Salvatore’s sprawling mansion for our wedding venue. Or I did. Diego hasn’t spoken to me since Salvatore told me he was made aware of our upcoming nuptials. I tried to call and explain, but he wouldn’t answer. I considered turning up at his home, but in the end, I decided the least I could offer him was space.

I haven’t seen him since I left his Brooklyn apartment over a month ago. I can’t be sure he’ll turn up today. I could be left standing at an altar in a white dress with no groom. Fuck, my haters would love that. The men in our ranks who continue to wait for me to fail or fall would celebrate the humiliation.

Security crawls over Salvatore’s home—men in black suits and earpieces with cautious eyes and tension in their shoulders. The only people approved to carry weapons. Guests were forbidden. Nothing screams afamilywedding more than gunfire after too many drinks between rivals.

Sipping my champagne, I stare at the wedding dress hanging on the back of the bedroom door so hard that my eyes blur. It’s a beautiful dress with a sweetheart off-shoulder cut that showcases my ample cleavage. The bodice is lace, the skirt a silk chiffon. It hugs my generous curves. My red hair has been styled in an updo consisting of at least a million and one bobby pins that will take me hours to remove. I did my makeup, wanting to feel as much myself today as possible.

A soft knock on the door pulls my watery gaze from the dress, and I clear my throat. “Come in.”

Salvatore steps through, smiling softly. “Aren’t you supposed to be dressed?”

I shrug. “It’s common for a bride to be fashionably late. You look handsome.”

He glances down at himself. “I dress like this every day.”

I smile warmly. “You always look handsome.”

“Are you okay?”

“Have you seen him?”

Is he here?

He nods, pouring himself a glass of champagne and swallowing the whole glass in one gulp. “He’s standing far enough away that no one can talk to him, glaring at the guests.”

Relief settles through me.

“So acting normal for him.”

I smile.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Alessia?” he asks. “None of this sits right with me. There is more going on than you are telling me. I’m certain of it.”

“Thisdoesn’t sit right with you, but me marrying an eighty-year-old man did?”

“I knew he wouldn’t hurt you.”

I smile sadly. “Diego won’t hurt me.”

“Looking at you, I think he already has.”

I tighten the tie of my silk dressing gown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not an idiot, Alessia. I know you’re not in love with Diego. But you have feelings toward him. Men like him can’t feel what you want him to. You know that, right? You knew Charles would never love you, and you were content with that because you would never love him either. I think you could love Diego. What happens if he can’t feel it back?”

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