Page 154 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

Kira follows, the smart cane she carries to unfamiliar places tapping softly on the plush carpet. “You make the most beautiful bride, Addy,” she says, her eyes somehow finding mine unerringly. “I don’t need eyes to know that.”

I glance at the mirror again, and I have to agree with her.

I nod, forgetting for a moment that she can’t see the gesture. “Thank you,” I murmur. “And you look amazing too.”

Kira has no idea how she looks in her blue maid of honor dress, her glossy dark hair cascading down her back, adorned with fresh baby’s breath. Friends or not, Sal had better be showing her every single day how beautiful she is inside and out.

They file out, offering reassuring smiles and gentle touches, but Bianca lingers at the door. “I’ll get you something to drink, cara,” she says, her voice soothing. “To calm your nerves.”

I smile and nod, grateful for her thoughtfulness.

As the door clicks shut behind her, the sudden silence feels almost crushing. I let out a long, shaky breath, the sound unnaturally loud in the empty room. Slowly, I stand, the layers of my dress settling around me with a soft swish.

I move to the window, drawn by the need for air, for space. Outside, the manicured gardens of the De Luca estate stretch out before me, a sea of green punctuated by bursts of colorful blooms. Security guards in full tactical vests dot the landscape, stark against the lush backdrop, a reminder that even on this joyful day, danger still lurks at the edges of our world.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes. In a few minutes, I’ll be Mrs. Vitelli, wife of Dante, fully entrenched in a world I’m coming to embrace. A world of power and danger, of loyalty and betrayal. And a love that transcends time.

Oh Mama. I finger the earrings again, fighting tears.

The sound of the door opening again makes me turn. Bianca enters, an open bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes in her hands, and I groan inwardly.

Orlando obviously didn’t tell Bianca I’m pregnant. Those two are practically strangers living in the same house for the amount of communication that happens between them.

“Now,” Bianca says, her smile warm and motherly as she approaches, “let’s have a little toast to endless love and new beginnings, shall we?”

Another pang of guilt hits me for how well Bianca is taking this whole situation. I represent everything wrong in her marriage: a product of an affair her husband had with a woman he’s still in love with even after two decades. And wants to toast to that? I’m not sure if I’m spooked by or admire the effort she’s no doubt making to put on a brave front when her heart must be breaking inside.

“Bianca, I’m sorry.” The words catch in my throat.

Her brows furrow, the champagne flutes clinking softly as she sets them down. “For what?”

“For this.” Meeting her dark gaze, I gesture at the earrings.

Instantly she gets it. An indefinable emotion swirls in her eyes, and I catch the sheen of tears in them before they harden again.

“It’s okay.” She chuckles wryly, the sound coming off wrong. “Well, it’s not okay, of course. It’s never been okay. But an apology is a nice start to taking ownership for the unforgivable.”

“I agree,” I say, glad that she’s taking the chance to admit how she truly feels.

Bianca takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling visibly. “I never got an apology from Orlando. Not once. He still doesn’t regret having an affair. He’d do it a thousand times over.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t regret it?” I ask, leaning against the dresser for support.

“Because he married me when the Don wouldn’t. An alliance with the powerful Rinaldis raised the Outfit’s position to the top of the mafia food chain. And of course established Orlando as the most powerful Capo.” Her voice turns bitter. “Although he conveniently forgot the ‘forsaking all others’ part of the vows he made to me. I was simply a means to an end.”

I see why Orlando holds so much power with the Vitellis. Vito owes him. “When did you find out about the affair?”

Bianca’s gaze drifts to the window, her reflection superimposed on the garden view. “For ten years, I had no clue. He was distant and cold, but I chalked it up to him being hardened by his life. Besides, I was still heartbroken from having to see Vito slobber over that . . . spineless woman.”

My eyes widen in surprise at her description of Antonella, but I don’t dare stop her, needing to hear the rest.

She releases the tie back, draws the curtains closed, and slowly walks back. “I’ve loved Vito for as long as I can remember. And finally, I caught his eye. For a while, he wanted me too. And then three months to our wedding, he changed his mind. Did you know that?”

I nod, the weight of her words settling heavily on me. Dante mentioned that to me, but hearing it from her hits different.

Bianca continues, her fingers now drumming a restless rhythm on the dresser. “Anyway, would you believe it was you who gave Orlando’s affair away?”

“What, me? How?” I ask, startled.

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