Page 22 of Reign Of Triumph
“Extremely upset, but she doesn’t want her mother to be any the wiser. For Vera, the story will be told that he was killed by the Russians.”
“Women talk, Eros. The truth finds a way of bubbling to the surface,” he warns.
“You have a point. I’ll let Serafina decide.”
Marco agrees. “Let’s try to salvage some joyous moment from your nuptials. Concentrate on your bride. I’ll make sure Giusto doesn’t go far.”
Serafina
Felicia fixes my makeup. There’s not a lot that can be done about my puffy eyes, but I don’t look the mess I was twenty minutes ago. Felicia is soothing when she speaks. Her voice is soft and melodic.
“You know, you’re not the only one to have been put in this position,” she says. My eyes widen, and she nods with a heavy sigh. “Marco faced the same decision, and as capo, he had no option but to have this person, uh, removed from the family.” She hesitates, then adds in a whisper, “The person was his sister. She was plotting to challenge Nero’s right to reign over La Famiglia. It was an ugly time, but Marco had to do what was best for his family and his men and their families. He never speaks of it, but I know he feels the burden. I also know that if Nero’s aunt had her way, I’d be dead, and Nero too. So, as horrible as it may sound, Marco did what was necessary for all of us.” Felicia straightens my veil. “This doesn’t make things easier, I know, but if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here to listen.” She steps back and a sweet smile comes over her face. “You look picture perfect. A beautiful bride.”
“Thank you, Felicia,” I return her smile. “I hope I can hold it together out there.” I look toward the door.
“You will, because you are a strong, magnificent woman. Eros married well, and he will protect you. He already knew you would make a good wife and mother, and now he knows that you are loyal to him first, just as I am to Nero. As long as you work together, you can do anything. You’ll get through the evening, and tomorrow will come, and you’ll move past the heavy cloud looming overhead and into the bright sunshine. I know this for a fact because it happened to Nero and me.”
I’m not quite as confident, but I need to move past this. I loved my brother once. But the man I knew is gone, and in his place is a vile man who has no regard for what his actions are doing to his wife and children.
Eros pops his head inside the door. “The guests are arriving. Are you ready, gioia mia?”
I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and dig deep to plaster a smile on my face. I guess I must look like a happy bride, because Felicia says, “That a girl. You got this.”
Dinner is over, but I barely managed a few mouthfuls. Eros’s best man, Nero, gave a lovely toast. He talked about how their friendship started as children and how, through the good and the bad, they’ve endured the test of what brotherhood is all about. It was heartfelt and touching, and for a brief moment, I saw Eros gazing up at Nero not as a Mafia man, but as a brother. They may not be blood, but they are family.
It’s just as Nero is stepping away from the podium that the glasses start clinking, and the guests chant, “Bacio, bacio.” They are urging Eros to kiss his bride. My belly flutters with nervous excitement. Eros comes to his feet, taking me with him.
“I think we need to give them what they want, before they break all the glasses,” he murmurs, pressing me close to his chest, my hands wedged between us. I can feel the steady beat of his heart, whereas mine is beating wildly. His hand cups the back of my head, his lips lower over mine. He takes his time in a slow, sweet kiss. I close my eyes, and when the kiss is over, his mouth moves to my lobe, nipping it gently, then he whispers in my ear, “I look forward to more of that, my beautiful bride.”
My lids flutter open, and his salacious grin makes me blush profusely. As luck would have it, the emcee asks Eros and me to make our way to the center of the dance floor for our first dance. Eros puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close as the music starts. Eros was hands-off for most of the wedding details, but when it came to selecting the music, he insisted on taking it on alone. I was more than happy to let him take that over with so many other details to organize.
I’m not sure what I expected, but I assumed a traditional song like “Ti Amo” would be his choice, but instead, the powerful, raspy, soulful sound of Lauren Hill singing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” is heard throughout the room. Eros moves me around the dance floor effortlessly. The rest of the world disappears; it’s just the two of us swaying to the melody.
If only for a brief time, I’m truly happy.
The song ends way too soon, and Eros and I must attend to our guests. We walk from table to table, personally thanking our guests for joining us. The most important table is where Marco sits with the dons of the other families. Alessio Cassini and his wife, Josephine, are sitting with him, along with Reno and Anna Viale, and of course, Raffaele and Evangeline Di Morte. Four of the most powerful and lethal men in the country, all at the same table. I am justifiably intimidated. If it weren’t for the warm expressions and kind words from their lovely wives, I would be shaking in my shoes the entire time.
This would be a perfect wedding if it weren’t for the impending doom that is inescapable. Eros is dancing with his mother for their mother-son dance, with the spotlight illuminating them as they move across the floor. There’s a burst of applause when the music ends. Sadness comes over me because it brings to the surface how much I miss my father. I always imagined being swirled around the room in my father’s arms. He was a magnificent dancer. We used to dance at other weddings when I was a young girl, and Dad would tell me he was looking forward to the same at my wedding. Dad even had the song picked out.
Then, as if Dad were with us, the song he chose all those years ago begins to play. Dad’s photo appears on the screen on the far wall of the banquet hall, and Eros’s father walks toward me.
He holds out his hand. “I may not be your father, but I would be honored if, for this dance, I could dance in his place.” I choke back the tears and let my father-in-law lead me around the room. Marco cuts in, telling me how proud my father was of me. Then Nero, followed by Luciano, and several other prominent underbosses who knew my father well. In the end, sparkly butterfly confetti falls from the rafters, and a picture of Miranda blowing a kiss appears on the screen. Our mothers have found a way to include the ones we loved and lost in our special day.
It did not go unnoticed that my brother made no attempt to come and dance with me, not only by me, but by many of the guests.
A short time later, Eros decides it’s time to make our exit. He has followed tradition for his family’s sake, but in reality, he’s not a traditionalist.
“Serafina has yet to toss the bouquet,” his mother says when Eros announces we’re leaving.
“Fine,” he huffs. He walks directly to the microphone, taking me with him, and says, “Single ladies, gather round.” He then whispers in my ear, “Make it quick, Fi.”
A simple one, two, three, and I toss the flowers over my shoulder. As soon as I do, Eros sweeps me up into his arms and beelines for the exit. It’s such a sight that the room erupts with laughter, clapping, and whistling at Eros’s haste to get me alone.
Eros drives us to our new home. He tells me that Anita and Alia are having a sleepover with Ciara, Luciano and Grazia’s daughter. Bianca is going home, but will always have a bodyguard with her.
“I hate to leave you. This isn’t the way I hoped our wedding night would unfold,” Eros says. “This must be done, Serafina.”
There is no turning back. My heart is breaking.
