Page 5 of Mafia and Protector

I looked at it with undisguised dismay.

It was completely over the top. It was obvious my mother had bought it at Signora Demonte’s boutique, otherwise known asThe Desperate Brides Boutique. It was where Società mothers went to get ‘eye-catching’, high fashion dresses for their unmarried daughters to wear at Società functions in the hope of snaring a good husband.

The more desperate the parents got, the more daring the outfits became. It was an embarrassment for a Mafia daughter to not be engaged by the time there was a ‘2’ at the front of her age—in other words, by her 20thbirthday. On the other hand, the men were permitted to get engaged at a later age and no one raised a single eyebrow at their sleeping around and sowing their wild oats.

This was clearly one of Signora Demonte’s signature dresses: low neckline – check, high hemline – check, sequins – check, lace – check, bright screaming color – check, tight fabric – check, slutty – check.

My mother insisted I try on the dress.

“Mother, you know that this sort of dress really isn’t my style.”

“Jessica, first impressions count. And Rafael’s first impression of you would have been awful in that dreadful lilac sundress you were wearing. We need to put you in a dress which will show him that you’re not an unsophisticated young girl.”

“But that’s what I am,” I wailed, although I knew I had no chance of changing her mind over the dress.

“Nonsense. This dress will transform his view of you.”

“What does it even matter what I wear to the engagement party? Rafael has already seen me and he’s signed the contract, so it’s not as if he needs to be persuaded into marrying me.”

“It’s important he changes his view of you.”

My heart sank to my stomach. “Did he say he wasn’t happy with me…?”

“No, but of course he wouldn’t have been happy—he wants a sophisticated wife. We can’t do much about your disappointing looks, so we’ll just have to try and impress him through your clothes. Even a plain Jane like you will look sensational in a dress like this.”

Jesus, my mother was delusional.

***

The next morning, when it was time to leave for the doctor’s appointment, I was surprised to see that my mother wasn’t getting ready to leave. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“No, Ortensia said that Emanuel told her that he had arranged everything so that I wouldn’t need to attend with you. He is even sending a car and two of his soldiers to escort you. The Santinos are determined to get all the preparations out of the way and keep the wedding date on track. They know that the only way the Società will get some stability after recent events is through a Santino-Bonardi marriage.”

I worried my lower lip. “But I don’t know the doctor and I really want you to come with me for this.”

“You have to appear to be a grown-up, confident young woman. After all, you are marrying into the Santino family, the head family of the Società.”

I looked at her doubtfully.

“For goodness sake, Jessica, you will do this and attend by yourself. You will not embarrass this family any further, especially after what happened with your sister, and not to mention your outburst at the contract signing when you suggested Gabriel might still want to marry Juliana.”

“But I didn’t mean to embarrass our family when I said that. I only meant—”

My mother cut me short. “Jessica, you are a smart girl, so try not to act like a tactless American tonight. Sometimes I think we should have brought you up more in the traditions of the old country.”

The old country—Italy, of course.

My mother was always harking back to her land of birth, where she had lived until her parents brought her to America as a young child. She looked at life in Italy as the pinnacle of perfection, conveniently forgetting how much she enjoyed the trappings of her wealthy American lifestyle.

“Your father is still unhappy about what you said, so please think carefully before you speak today and make sure you do not cause any further shame to the Bonardi name.”

I headed out to the car sent by Emanuel Santino, sitting in the back behind the two soldiers sent to guard me.

I was wearing a white tailored dress, although its formal style wasn’t really to my taste, and I felt uncomfortable due to the neckline and cap sleeves being edged in scratchy lace trim.

I thought that white clothing always made me look washed out, my pale skin merging with the pale fabric, making me look sallow and tired. However, my mother had insisted that I wear white, cream, or ivory as much as possible in the run up to the wedding, so as to remind everyone that I was the bride-to-be. She definitely wanted to shout it from the rooftops and emphasize to everyone that I was marrying into the Capo’s family. My siblings and I had always joked that our mother, Casmundina Bonardi, was a typical Mafia wife: obedient and demure, yet ruthlessly ambitious for her family.

When I arrived at the clinic for my appointment, I was shown into a sterile examination room and introduced to the doctor.

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