Page 17 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)

E ilidh

Sitting here with my ass stinging from a punishment while a complete stranger styles my hair for my wedding is a surreal experience.

The whole situation is impossible to wrap my head around.

Two days ago, I was in my bedroom in a house belonging to the man who’d held me captive for four years.

Though I could never consider that my home, there was something comforting in the familiarity of the four walls I spent much of my time locked within.

I grew accustomed to the rhythm of the household, the mealtimes and cleaning schedules.

It was a bland existence, but one I understood.

Now I’m in an entirely different country, freed from one type of imprisonment and trapped in another. Gio may allow me to speak more openly than I ever could have around Jason, but he’s no less determined to dictate my future than my previous jailer was.

In thirty minutes, I’ll be standing downstairs before a priest, exchanging vows with a man I barely know.

An arranged marriage was always going to be my destiny, but I always imagined my father would give me time to come to terms with the idea.

He’d have let me meet with my future groom to see if we were compatible.

I’d have had my family around to support me.

I can picture exactly how my wedding day would have been.

My mother and sisters would be the ones fussing over my hair and makeup, dressing me in a gown we’d all shopped for together.

Jamie and Alexander would have eased my tension by goofing around as they always did at family occasions.

They’d have played the big brother card and threatened the groom with dire retribution if he’d ever hurt me.

I’d have pretended to be pissed at their heavy-handedness, while secretly being thrilled they were looking out for me.

Dad would have gotten uncharacteristically sentimental, telling me how beautiful I was and tearing up over his baby being all grown up.

Then he’d have pushed his broad shoulders back, held his head high, and walked me down the aisle.

Although I’d probably have rolled my eyes at my family’s antics, it kills me to think I’ll never experience their sometimes suffocating love for me again.

A tear wells in my eye and I blink it away.

Glancing at my reflection in the dressing table mirror, I see such sorrow in my eyes I can’t bear to look at myself. I quickly avert my gaze.

“You’re unhappy,” Rosalia observes.

If a woman I met only a couple of hours ago can read my emotions so clearly, I’m not doing a good job of hiding them.

“I don’t want to get married.”

The Italian girl tilts her head to one side as she regards me carefully. “You don’t like Signore Volante?”

“I don’t dis like him.” It’s an honest answer.

Gio’s not a bad man as far as I can tell.

From what I’ve seen he has a sense of honor that’s rare and a reasonable level of intelligence.

Then there’s his handsome face and incredible body.

If I was judging purely on physical attributes, he’d be the top of any list of potential husbands. “I just don’t want to marry him.”

“Is it because he’s Mafia?” Rosalia’s question confirms what I wondered about, whether she knew what type of men she’s working for.

“In a way.” His family ties don’t put me off, but what they represent does. “Once you’re in, you can’t leave. Marriage is like a life sentence.”

Rosalia smiles sympathetically. “Is it new to you, the Mafia?”

“No, my father was involved in the Scottish Mafia.”

“So, you knew about it, your mamma knew about it?”

“Yes.”

My dad made no secret of who he was or how he earned the luxurious lifestyle we enjoyed.

I mean, to the outside world, he was a successful businessman, but within the family we were all aware of his involvement in organized crime.

My brothers both became a part of the family business when they were old enough and my father often sought counsel from my mother.

She was good at seeing a situation from all angles.

My mother was well aware of my father’s brutal side.

He didn’t use violence to intimidate us into obedience, but rather as a tool to make us all feel safe.

Until the night he died, I truly believed that no bad guy could ever vanquish my father.

He was my hero and seeing him fall left me doubting that any man can ever truly protect his family.

It’s what’s made me determined to protect myself, even from Gio if need be.

“Was your mamma unhappy in her marriage?” Rosalia asks.

“No.” I’m sure, like any couple, they had their ups and downs, but my parents’ marriage was solid. Loving and attentive to each other’s needs, they provided a model for the type of relationship I aspire to. “She loved my dad. They were perfect together.”

“Perhaps your marriage will be the same, if you give Signore Volante a chance.”

I furrow my brow. “Did Gio ask you to speak up for him?”

Rosalia shakes her head. “No. Signore Volante only asked me to help you get ready, but I can see he cares for you.”

“Maybe he does, but nothing can alter the fact I’m stuck with the marriage, even if it doesn’t work out between us.”

“Isn’t Signore Volante in the same position?”

If the world we inhabit wasn’t incredibly sexist, he would be, but unfortunately different rules exist for men and women.

“No, he’d be free to fuck other women to his heart’s content.

” I sigh as I catch a glimpse of Rosalia’s concerned expression.

The poor girl is only trying to help me.

None of what’s happening is within her power to change, yet I’m unloading my complaints on her.

“I’m sorry, Rosalia. You shouldn’t have to put up with my negativity. ”

“ Non é niente .” Rosalia dismisses my apology with a flick of the wrist. Then she leans closer as if she’s about to reveal a huge secret. “You know, you’re not the first unwilling bride to come through this house this year.”

“No?”

“No,” she confirms. “The last Signore Volante who stayed here forced his bride into marriage.”

“He did?” I realize there are several different men she could be referring to. “Which Signore Volante are we talking about?”

“Your Signore Volante… ugh!” She seems to realize that referring to all the men so formally is going to get confusing since they have the same surname. “Gio’s brother, Matteo.”

The brother who was caught up in the shooting. Now I am intrigued. “What happened?”

“Well, their situation was not quite the same as yours. His bride was already his friend when they wed. She knew him from childhood.”

“Tell me more.” Something about gossiping with Rosalia lifts my mood.

“Well… Matteo, he came here with his sister when she was sent away from New York.”

My eyebrows lift. More scandal? “Why was she sent away?”

Rosalia shakes her head. “That’s a whole different story and I don’t know too much about it.”

“Okay, so tell me about Matteo.”

“Well, he got involved in a shooting.”

I nod, having already heard this story from Lorenzo.

“He wasn’t really involved though, was he?”

“Not in the girl’s death,” Rosalia replies, “but he took part in getting revenge for her murder. Many were killed.”

At one time, I’d have shaken my head at that. An eye for an eye often leads to a never-ending cycle of violence. Now, however, I can’t judge Matteo for that. Not when thoughts of tearing apart every single person who was involved in what happened to me are swirling in my mind.

“What does that have to do with his marriage?”

“Well, Signore … Antonio Volante sent Matteo’s friend, Giulia, to persuade him to put aside revenge and come home.

I don’t know exactly what happened, but Giulia came to a club with me on my eighteenth birthday.

One minute we were dancing and the next Signore …

” She pauses to correct herself again. “Damiano was pulling her off the dance floor. He sent her home to Matteo and the next thing I knew they were getting married.”

“So, what makes you think she was unhappy about marrying him?”

“I heard Matteo put pressure on her and she was angry with him. When the ceremony was over, the church was attacked. While Matteo dealt with the attackers, Giulia left him. She flew back to New York alone.”

“Wow. Do you know what happened after that?”

“ Si. Giulia keeps in touch with me. She and Matteo are very happy together now. As you and Gio can be.”

As entertaining as the story of Matteo and Giulia was, it doesn’t fill me with hope that I’ll receive my own happily ever after with Gio.

“Don’t you mind working for such a fucked-up family?” I ask Rosalia.

She lifts a shoulder in an indolent shrug. “It gives me independence. I bring in my own money and I was able to move into an apartment with my friend Carlotta recently.”

“That’s all good,” I tell her, “but you’re very young to be a housekeeper. Don’t you want to go to college?”

“No, it’s not for me. I hated school and I don’t really have the brains for college.”

“You seem smart enough to me.”

Rosalia beams. “Not in an academic way, unfortunately. I plan to work, save a little money, travel around Europe, America perhaps, and then settle down.”

The enthusiastic way she lays out her vision for the future reminds me of the way my friends and I used to plan what we’d do when we left high school.

“I always wanted to go to university.”

“What did you want to study?”

“I hadn’t decided. English Literature, maybe, or Film Studies. Something fun.”

Rosalia finishes with my hair by sliding a final pin, topped with a delicate pearl, into the knot at the back of my head. “You could still go to college.”