Page 12 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

I t’s been ten days since my father and Matteo sprang the news of my impending marriage on me.

Between my father’s implied threats and my stalker’s, I’ve hardly slept.

Late one night, in a moment of bravery or stupidity, I texted Matteo asking if we could talk—hoping I could still make him see reason.

Needless to say, he’s been avoiding me ever since.

None the wiser, Valentina has been steamrolling ahead, holding me hostage in the hellscape she likes to call wedding planning.

Every waking moment I’m not at work has been consumed by discussions of menus, color swatches, timelines, flowers, music, and tablescapes.

She hauls her wedding dossier around like a bible and corners me with it at every opportunity.

If I didn’t already know this is how she operates under stress, I might think she was trying to convince me to join a cult.

My friends have all rallied for the occasion, offering their assistance, and Gabi’s already been by multiple times.

But it still seems we’ve gotten very little accomplished, and Valentina has since temporarily banned her from the premises, citing that our planning sessions have just turned into boozy brunches.

I’m exhausted and on edge as I try to sneak out on Sunday morning.

“Abella!” Valentina yells after me, her heels clacking against the tile as she shuffles to the door and blocks my exit. She’s wearing a militant expression and the black cape dress I shopped for her, which means she’s in business mode.

“ Marone ,” I mutter under my breath.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She glares at me.

“I have a baptism to get to,” I remind her.

“Yes, and...” She pulls up my schedule on her phone and shows it to me. “We still have an hour before you have to leave.”

“Val,” I whine.

“Nope.” She grabs me by the arm and drags me into the sitting room, where our half-sister Francesca is parked on the recliner.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as she scoops a spoonful of cereal from the bowl balanced on her very pregnant belly.

“Gio’s out of town,” Franny mumbles as she chews. “He didn’t want me to be alone.”

A frown tugs at my lips. “He’s been out of town almost every weekend for the last two months.”

“He’s busy.” Franny shrugs.

“Busy with who?” I demand.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care either. I’m the one he comes home to. What he does with his free time is his business.”

I bite my tongue because there’s no point in telling her that’s not how it should be.

Like most men in our world, Gio sees no issue with keeping six other side pieces.

Franny knows the score well enough, considering her mother was one of our father’s mistresses.

The Cosa Nostra likes to do things the old-fashioned way, even if it requires a mistress to get the job done.

When my mother could no longer bear children, my father found someone else who could.

Needless to say, he still didn’t get the son he wanted.

Though Franny and I aren’t very close, I don’t want her subjected to the same fate. But it doesn’t matter what I say. Our father told her before she married that wives are for business, and she shouldn’t go poking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I guess she took that to heart.

“You could learn a thing or two from me, you know,” Franny says. “Your marriage will be better off for it. If you think Matteo’s gonna be sitting at home with you while you moan your whole pregnancy, you have another thing coming.”

Nausea churns in my stomach, and Valentina shoots Franny a glare. “You aren’t helping.”

Francesca grunts as she sets her empty bowl aside and stands up. “Whatever. I’m gonna watch Housewives and leave you two to commiserate together.”

“Yeah, thanks for all your help,” Valentina mutters.

“I can’t fly to the wedding.” Franny points out. “Why should I help plan it?”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.” I roll my eyes at her. I can’t recall Francesca ever lifting a hand to help anyone with anything.

Valentina waits until she’s gone and directs me to the couch.

“You aren’t running off until we get a few things settled first. I don’t think you understand the mountains I’ve had to move to make this wedding happen on time.

Throw in all the secrecy, and it’s made my job ten times harder than it needs to be. ”

“Is it more so than usual?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“You’re a Moretti marrying the next Vitale king,” she huffs.

“Not only do both sides want me to perform a miracle by giving them the wedding of the century in zero time, but they want it all done quietly. The guests don’t even know where the ceremony is being held.

They’ll be transported to the location that day after they’ve been screened. ”

An invisible weight presses against my chest as I consider that. Paranoia isn’t unusual in the Cosa Nostra , but this seems like overkill.

“What, do they think the Stavros brothers will have me killed?”

“ Dio mio !” Valentina rushes to make the sign of the cross. “Don’t give yourself the malocchio , Abella. You know that’s what everyone is already thinking. You don’t need to give life to it.”

“You’ve spent too much time around Nonna Vitale.” I smirk.

“Well, maybe it’s not true,” she says. “But you can never be too careful…just in case.”

“The Stavros brothers aren’t going to hurt me,” I assure her.

“Of course not,” she agrees, but I can still see the concern in her eyes as she shoves her tablet onto my lap. “There are some ideas for the centerpieces. All I need you to do is look them over and tell me which variation you like.”

My eyes glaze over as I scan the images, not really seeing them.

Truthfully, I don’t care about any of it.

The colors, the decorations, the theme. I could get married in a paper sack, and I wouldn’t even notice.

This wedding, the marriage, and all its expectations are suffocating the life out of me.

I’m only surviving on autopilot because I’ve been trained from birth to understand that even if the world is on fire, I better still have a smile on my face.

It’s the Moretti way. No matter what cards life has dealt me, I’ve always kept my chin up and my heels high as I soldiered on.

But lately, I feel like a thread that’s started to unravel, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“Abella?”

“Hmm.” I glance up to meet Val’s worried gaze.

She takes a seat beside me on the sofa and sets the tablet onto the table, turning it off. “You aren’t even here.”

“Can’t you just pick these things out?” I ask her. “I trust your selections.”

“You trust it so much you’ve let me plan your entire wedding.” She frowns. “Don’t you care about any of it?”

I lean back against the cushion and blow out a breath as I stare up at the ceiling. I don’t know how to answer that without giving too much away.

“I remember how happy you were when we were planning your wedding to Angelo,” she says softly. “You were determined to make it perfect. Now it seems like you don’t care about anything.”

“I was na?ve to expect happiness in a marriage.” I sigh. “You know that as well as I do.”

Val sits with that sentiment for a minute before she glances in the direction of our father’s office.

We both know he’s in there, and because his door is almost always cracked, he could be listening.

Fortunately for us, Val and I were the only ones who bothered to learn ASL when our mother lost her hearing.

We’ve always used it when we need to communicate silently, and as it turns out, she’s on the same page.

There are other options. She signs. If you really don’t want this, we can use the Aegis network to help you escape.

For the briefest of moments, I allow myself to consider that fantasy before I shake my head. I won’t chance exposing my friends, and my situation isn’t nearly as dire as the other women we’ve helped.

It’s too much of a risk, I reply. If I slight the Vitale family, there will be a bounty on my head before I can blink twice, and you know it would come straight from Papà.

So we make it look like something happened to you , she answers. You could go overboard on the way to the island. Or a rival family takes you.

I can’t help but laugh at the last suggestion, considering I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened with my stalker.

What’s so funny? Val asks.

I consider dodging the question, but it will only hurt her more if I hide this from her, too. I’ve done enough of that already. And besides that, I need confirmation that I’m not losing my mind.

What you said about a rival family taking me , I sign back. I’m not sure who, but someone already did.

The color drains from her face as she waits for me to elaborate, but she only appears more unsettled as I go on to explain everything that happened.

And by everything, I do mean everything.

Once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I tell her about my dreams, the masked stalker, the texts, the gifts, and what happened at work.

All of it. And when I finish, we sit in silence for a good long minute as she processes.

Oh my god , Val mouths the words. Why didn’t you tell somebody?

I don’t know , I confess. I didn’t feel like I was in any real danger after it happened. Honestly, Val, I think there’s something wrong with me because God help me, I’d rather be back on that roof with him than planning this wedding.

Do you think it’s someone you know? Her eyes widen as she considers it.

I hesitate, and she pokes me in the shoulder. You have to tell me.

It’s impossible. I shake my head. I know it can’t be him, but…it felt like him.

Angelo?

I force a nod. I know it sounds crazy.

Does it, though? She questions. Or is that just who you wanted him to be?

I don’t answer that because, honestly, that’s a possibility.

Val chews on her nail for a moment, glancing in the direction of our father’s office again.

What about Tony or building security? she asks. Weren’t they there?