Page 7 of Bellini Bound

Out of patience, I snapped, “Unless what?”

Visibly paling, he confessed, “Unless you marry one of them.”

My eyes bulged, and a disbelieving huff spilled from my parted lips. “Excuse me? First off, are you out of your mind? And what in the world do they want me for? I have nothing to do with any of this!”

“If they have you, that allows them to keep controlling me. And it also stops me from continuing to collude with their enemies because that would put you in harm’s way as one of them.”

I folded both arms over my chest. “This is your mess, not mine.”

“You would let them kill your father?” my mother cried.

It hit me suddenly. “You’ve already told them I would do it, haven’t you?”

Dad nodded. “You’re set to be married on Saturday.”

“S-Saturday?” I stammered. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly.”

Maniacal laughter rolled up my throat. “So, that’s it? You’re handing over your only daughter to save your own skin?”

“Allie, please.” He begged for understanding, which I wasn’t in any mood to give. Not when he was acting like my life—my future—was disposable. “I don’t have a choice.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, and my voice wavered. “You’ve put me in an impossible situation.”

He reached for me, but I stepped back, maintaining space between us. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am.” The first tear spilled down my cheek, and I didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Don’t expect to walk me down the aisle.”

Those were my parting words before I fled the room, racing up the stairs, and sealing myself inside my bedroom. I threw my body onto the bed, and that’s when the chest-rattling sobs finally broke free.

I had two days of freedom left. Then my life as I knew it would be over.

Breathe, Allie. You can do this.

As I lifted my eyes to meet my reflection in the mirror of the church’s bridal suite, there wasn’t a mental pep talk on earth that could erase the stricken look staring back at me. I was giving up my life in exchange for my father’s, and after today, there would be no going back.

Like most girls, I’d spent years picturing this day. But I could never have imagined my march down the aisle would feel more like a trek toward the executioner’s block than a joyful journey toward my happily-ever-after.

Hell, I didn’t know what my groom looked like! Or even his name!

Everything about this was so wrong that I wanted to cry.

Sure, because you haven’t done enough of that over the past forty-eight hours to last a lifetime.

I plucked at the fabric of my white dress, frowning at the memory of its purchase. It was damn near impossible to find a size-eighteen wedding gown hanging on the racks inside bridal boutiques. The only thing they had in stock that fit me was a maternity dress, so that’s what I found myself wearing.

Nothing like adding a little insult to injury.

There was a light knock on the door to the suite. I could only imagine it was my mother—or worse, my father—ensuring that I wasn’t about to turn into a runaway bride.

Not gonna lie, the thought had crossed my mind. More than a few times, actually. But then I remembered that, in doing so, my dad’s blood would be on my hands. As hard as it would be to become the wife of some mafiaman, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing my father was dead because of something I’d done.

Oh, so we’re just glossing over the fact thathisactions are what landed you here?

He might’ve tossed me to the wolves, but he’s still my dad.

Moving to the door, I sucked in a deep breath before pulling it open. “Look, I don’t—” My words cut off abruptly when the person standing opposite me wasn’t either of my parents.