Page 79 of Veil of Vengeance

I stand near the stairs that lead down to the party, and stare at the reflection of myself in the mirror, running my palms over my hair.

I look the same as I did before I was taken by the Camorra, but I don’t feel the same. Everybody tries to tell me and show me that everything is the same as it used to be, but nothing is.

I can feel it, in the way that Mom cries when she thinks that I left the room, or when Lottie and Mon whisper among themselves before asking me about the Camorra, and Marcello continues to look more and more emotionless as each day passes.

I can hear the buzz of the little get-together downstairs. My fiancé and his family are all there with my family. I swallow the lump forming in my throat, my skin feeling slightly slicker than I’d like it to.

I grip the railing as I take each step. My chest tightens as the image of Emiliano filters in front of my eyes, and I blink it away. I won’t think of someone who’d give me up so easily. He doesn’t want me, so I shouldn’t want him.

I hate my dad. I hate him with such burning passion that maybe one day the flames will either swallow me whole because of my hatred, or it will burn all those around it. I clench my fists as I try to calm my breathing, the flames of rage flickering against my abdomen. Tears sting my eyes, and the acid burns my throat as the sobs fight to break through.

Death has never seemed so appealing. I just want to be happy, is that really too much to ask for? Straightening my dress, I suck in a deep breath. I might have entertained escaping this life before the Capo of the Camorra had taken me, and then my heart, but now I have people I need to protect, I can’t be selfish. My sisters need me, my brother needs me. They deserve better than this shitshow of a circus my dad calls a family.

My heel clicks against the last step of the stairs, and I steel myself. I wish I had the courage to run away, but I can’t do that. Dad would kill my sisters and my Mom and then me once he got his hands on me.

This will determine my future. The sound of chatter and laughter gets louder the closer I get to where everyone is waiting.

“I suppose you’re one of those ladies who enjoy being fashionably late?” I startle as I spot a man standing off the entrance of the room, leaning into the shadows with his arms folded across his chest. He’s tall and broad. A hint of an accent laced around his words makes them sound seductive. I narrow my eyes at him.

“No. I don’t like being late, and that was incredibly sexist.”

He stands straighter, and I take a cautious step back.

“You’re Valentina, correct?” He steps into the light, and I can see that his eyes are a bright green like a cat’s, and his hair is as dark as the night sky.

“Depends on who’s asking,” I counter. His face remains bleak, as if he finds me a nuisance.

“I’m Nicholas Guerrero, your fiancé.”

Great, the guy clearly doesn't like me already.

“Sorry. I didn’t know who you were,” I apologize. I’m not really sorry; I don’t give a fuck, and I’m sure he doesn’t either. He nods before passing me, heading the opposite way as the party. “Where are you going? The party’s in there,” I ask.

“That party is boring as fuck. I’d love to stay and chat, but...” Nicholas shrugs, as if he’s not bothered to come up with an excuse, and his tone suggests he’d rather do anything other than stay. I watch his retreating back until he turns the corner, then decide to go to the party. The chatter slows, and I can feel everyone’s gaze on me. Everyone I know is here, and there are some people I don’t know. I spot Violette and her fiancé, Massimo, if I’m not mistaken.

He looks at my sister like she holds the moon and the sun in the palms of her hands. Lucky bitch. Nonna’s the first one to get to me as she loops her arm with mine. She’s in a soft gray dress and her hair is twisted into one of her elegant hair buns.

“Valentina, I'd like to introduce you to Gloria Guerrero. She’s Nicholas’ stepMom.” She gestures toward a woman who we come to a stop in front of. Gloria is wearing a long maxi violet dress, and her ginger hair is down in beach waves. She gives me a smile full of teeth and she looks at my nonna.

“Oh, you did say she’s beautiful, but the photos don’t do her justice.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and decide to tune out their little talk. I manage to pry my arm out of Nonna’s grip and excuse myself.

I take a couple of steps toward an empty corner and grab a flute of champagne off one of the trays the servers are carrying around on my way. I only manage to take a sip before both Mia and Violette swarm me.

“Are you two here to ask me about the Camorra? Again,” I say. Mia gives me a sheepish smile, but Lottie just shakes her head.

“Come on, Val. You refuse to say anything about what happened, and everyone’s worried,” Violette complains. Mia steps closer to me, her fingertips grazing my upper arm carefully. I shake my head, my grip tightening on the stem of the champagne flute.

“You guys need to leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s time that we all move on with our lives. I have a wedding to plan for.” The knot in my throat tightens further, but I swallow a gulp of the champagne. Mia presses her lips together, and Lottie’s giving me a look that I ignore.

“You know you’re not the only one who has to marry someone you don’t want to.”

I tip my glass at Violette, feeling annoyed by her tone.

“No, I’m not, but the fact is, I’m the one who has to marry someone who will take me far away from my family, and I have little time to get to know him.”

Violette doesn’t say anything because Mia grabs her shoulder, shaking her head, as if they’re in an alliance or something. By the time we’re sitting around the dinner table, I’ve downed two more glasses of champagne, and my head feels lighter.

---