Page 15 of Pretty Poison

“Honestly, it’s the best thing that could have ever happened to me,” Kat continues, placing a gentle hand over mine. “It shaped me into the woman I am today. It prepared me for the life of Dalmazio Vitale’s wife. He was don before, and I needed that training more then, but it still gives me a sense of peace to know that if he leaves this earth before me, I can protect myself and our little bundle of joy without him. God forbid that ever happens, though.”

I pause, her words playing in my mind on repeat. Well, one word in particular:Dalmazio.“What the fuck is a Dalmazio?”

“You didn’t think his given name was Maze, did you?”

A laugh escapes me. “Well up until now, I did, yeah.” Turning to Elaina, I add, “No offence, I bet it’s a great name with a deeper meaning… a unique name, I guess.”

Elaina’s expression falls serious. “It was my father’s name.”

Instant regret fills me. “I-I should’ve thought before I spoke.”

She and Kat share a knowing glance before an eruption of laughter fills the air. “Screw that bastard,” she finally says. “My father was an old prick who thought of himself as a god. His name was as old-fashioned, as simple, and as straightforward as he was.” She flashes me a smile. “Dalmazio was an old family friend who met his demise way too soon. He’d appreciate your humour, I guarantee it.”

Relief overcomes me, coming out as an exasperated sigh. “Well, Maze is a good nickname. Dalmazio sure is a mouthful and could be difficult to pronounce.”

She nods. “As a child, he could never say it. He always pronounced the ‘Maz’ part of his name more clearly. It seemed fitting to drop the rest.”

“We’ve got off track,” I say, putting my hands out and shaking my head. “The whole training thing—what does that entail exactly?”

Dragging the lounge chair from the corner closer to my bed, Elaina sits in front of us. “I’ll start,” she says, placing her hands on her lap as she leans forward slightly. “If you hear our experiences, maybe it’ll help you understand what’s to come and why it’s a benefit for not only Dario, but yourself, too.”

“Yeah. Retelling war stories for you is the least we can do. You’ll be a part of this family before you know it. It’s best if you get the full, unfiltered version,” Kat chimes in, making herself comfortable as she leans back against the headboard and slouches.

“Yes, it may help if you knew what to expect from now on,” Elaina adds, placing a sympathetic hand on my knee. “How does that sound?”

After pausing for a few moments, the air stilling around us, I finally settle on, “It sounds good.”

The last thing I need is to enter this horror show of a marriage blindly. If help is offered and I decline because of my pride, I’d be foolish. I need all the help I can get to ensure I pass Dario’s tests, but also to rid my gut of the gnawing feeling I’ve had since we spoke.

I was raised to hold my own in my personal life and in the act I portray for the media, but I need to learn to adapt now. This world I’m being thrust into is different from the one I’m used to. Sure, the world as it is now is a violent and cruel place, but in theirs, it’s even more so. It’s deadlier and more vicious. People will use weapons to speak their truth and in turn, hurt those who only ever mean them well. It’s a sick and twisted world, but it’s their world and they love living in it.

Eight

DARIO

Three days. It’s been three days since I last saw Liana and I’ve spent every single minute thinking of her, and only her—her angelic features resembling an innocent soul, that spitfire attitude she holds and the warrior I know she can become with a little guidance.

It’s a strange concept that my brain wants to focus on her, while my heart longs to hate her. Everything within me screams to hurt her, to treat her as nothing more than a beneficial arrangement, but my mind refuses to let that happen. Morning, noon and night, she’s all I think about and I despise it. Who does she think she is? She wormed her way into my life and it feels as if my brain refuses to see her as anything other than my future wife. I trained it better than this.

I trek through the halls, heading for the kitchen for a snack, and I stop in my tracks. Listening intently, I hear an angelic laugh echoing around me and I immediately retrace my steps. My stomach can wait.

As far as I know, that’s my mother and Kat conversing with Liana, trying to make light of a not-so-easy situation—it’s what they do best. They have that spark about them that allows them to see the best in the worst of circumstances. And by the sounds of it, they’re succeeding in helping Liana do the same. They’vespent every waking minute trying to make the change easier for her.

I slip back into my office, closing the door, and tread over to my desk, my mind still circulating with images of Liana, and now, the sound of her happiness, too. It’s like she has a permanent place there now, burying herself in the fold of my brain that holds everything important, almost as if she belongs there. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t belong anywhere, especially not with me. She’s too pure for my world. Too pure to be dragged through all the gore that awaits her once we marry.

A firm knock on my door snaps me from my thoughts, and I bellow out to grant them entry. The door swings open, and my father walks in with my grandparents. Immediately, I rise to my feet and wait for them to sit down before returning to my previous position.

“I hear congratulations are in order, boy,” my grandfather says, the smile on his face seeming genuine. “Your grandmother and I never thought this day would come.”

I release a heavy sigh. “It’s not exactly a miracle, though, is it?”

“A miracle means something unimaginable, something extraordinary… Since we all thought you were opposed to the idea entirely and it’s actually happening, I think that word is a perfect fit.”

I glance at my grandmother as she stares at me with a smile adorning her lips. “It wasn’t how you imagined; we know that, but we appreciate you living up to tradition and making the family proud,” she says in her usual polite tone. Only she could make our traditions and legacy sound like an honour and privilege to live up to.

“So, when’s the wedding?” my grandmother continues. “I assume she’s already been through the routine tests. Have you had the results back?”

“They’ll be back any day now,” I assure her. “She and Kat went to the clinic a few days ago. It’s still early. We have time, Nonna.”

---