Page 2 of Saint Of Envy (Tangled Hearts, Sinful Hands #2)

VALENTINA

I taly’s deep burnt orange sunset pours through the window of the cathedral’s dressing room as I stand there looking out the window like a caged bird.

Two weeks—it’s been just over two weeks since Luciano climbed through my bedroom window and gave me the most wonderful night of my life.

Granted, it was more like the most wonderful few hours rather than a whole night since our time was short together, but to me it felt like my entire life being distilled down into that one, intensely powerful window of time—or at least the life that I want to have, rather than the one that is now being forced upon me.

“You’re so blessed and fortunate to be having a wedding in Italy,” the attendant gushes as she fawns over the lace-covered buttons at the back of my bodice.

They feel more like sutures than buttons, stitching me up into the shell of a bride that I don’t wish to be, wrapping me up in a beautiful dress the same way that they dress up corpses, in order to hide the fact that I’m dying inside.

But this old woman doesn’t even see it. She’s onLeonardo’s staff, so she sees and says only what he wants her to see and speak.

“The Amalfi Coast,” she continues as she looks out the window in front of us. “I’ve never seen such a lucky bride before. Just look at these dramatic cliffs and the sun-soaked romance of it all. This venue is the epitome of vibrant sophistication if I dare say so.”

I wish she wouldn’t say anything at all.

I wish that she’d just tend to my dress in silence.

It would make it easier for me to pretend that this is all just a bad dream that I will somehow wake up from, instead of the current nightmarish reality that I face.

What could be worse than being forced to marry someone you don’t love?

There’s no amount of stunning ocean views or colorful Mediterranean glamour that will make up for that injustice.

She’s right that this would be my dream wedding destination if I were marrying Luc instead of Leonardo Conti.

All of the most important families are here to attend Leonardo’s wedding and show their respect, all except for the Barones.

The Morettis are here, which means at least I will have my friend, Isla, in the church pews as a warm and friendly face to look out at while I walk toward the end of my freedom.

“Oh here, can’t forget this!” the old woman says as she stuffs a tampon down the front of my dress for safekeeping. “Wouldn’t want any bloody mishaps in a white gown! And who knows how long you’ll be in that dress tonight.”

“Wait, how did you?—”

“Oh, I saw the box of feminine products in your toiletries bag, so I just assumed it was that time of the month. Just trying to be helpful,” she smiles.

“Are all of Leonardo’s staff this helpful?” I ask in annoyance.

She ignores my question and busies herself, placing another rhinestone-studded hair comb in my dark, swept-up hair. But the truth of the matter is that it isn’t the old woman who stressed me just now, as much as it is the fact that I am late.

My period was supposed to come last week, and it hasn’t. I’m never late. I’m one of those rare women whose cycle arrives each month like clockwork, sometimes absurdly even down to the same hour of the same day. But this time, it hasn’t even made an appearance yet.

Of course, that fills me with panic over the fact that I did just have sex with Luc two weeks ago. But one can’t get pregnant that fast—right?

I’m already emotionally conflicted over my intimate reunion with Luc.

On the one hand, it was the best night of my life and the sensual, impassioned culmination of years’ worth of pining over him.

It only made today worse. Now, not only am I entering a loveless marriage, but I’m doing so while my heart longs for another man.

The intimate encounter that Luc and I shared has only made me want him more and Leonardo less.

And it’s without a doubt that I stand here now in this expensive wedding gown, feeling completely and utterly in love with a man that I cannot have.

I close my eyes and try to picture Luc in my head.

His tall, commanding, muscular physique as he climbed through my bedroom window.

Those dark eyes and sharply groomed hair hovered over me as he made love to me.

I have never yearned more for another man but also for my independence. The ability to love and to be loved.

Leonardo Conti doesn’t love me—he simply wants to own me.

This is all just a game of societal expectations, and I’m sick of it.

I crave a genuine connection, the likes of which I’ve never had, even during my time living on Leonardo’s estate with him.

Living with him was stifling enough, but now—well, now this arranged marriage seeks to trap me in a life that I don’t want and didn’t ask for.

“Almost time!” the old woman chirps as she takes a step back to look me over. She claps her hands together once and holds them with palms pressed flat against the other as if she’s saying a little prayer. “My goodness, how lovely you look, Valentina! Leonardo will be so pleased.”

I have to fight back a gag reflex at the thought of my entire purpose in life being simply to live up to my husband-to-be’s expectations. I’ve spent months styling myself impeccably, reflecting my role as a prestigious bride-to-be, and now I’m about to become a mafia wife.

I don’t want this.

“I’ll leave you to collect yourself for a moment now, my dear,” she says as she gathers up the makeup brushes and stray flower petals that fell from my bridal bouquet when someone took it out of its box.

“No cold feet now! Everyone expects to see you walking down that aisle like a queen—Mrs. Conti, my, what a lovely ceremony this will be!”

As soon as the door closes behind her, a heavy dread falls over me, as does a moment of intense, adrenaline-fueled distress.

I have only a few minutes left before that door opens.

Then, I have to walk out in front of a church filled to the brim with prestigious mafia families and powerful guests and take my place at the altar to marry a ruthless, heartless mafia Don.

If I don’t do something at this very moment, then this will be my inescapable fate.

And even though the chance of it seems rare, if I am indeed pregnant with Luc’s child, then how can I live with myself if I marry another man and doom the child of the man I love to a life beneath Leonardo Conti's thumb?

Although rash, reckless, and likely incredibly dangerous, I feel like I’m left with only one real choice in the matter. I need to flee.

Frantically, I look around the dressing room. There is nothing useful in here to help me escape—no weapons, no car keys, not even a change of clothes—just me in my wedding gown and a window that opens onto the street outside. That will have to do.

Driven by guilt over both abandoning my family duties and possibly carrying the child of a man that I should’ve never slept with, but am deeply in love with, I make the bold decision to escape Leonardo.

After months of living under his thumb, I know what a life with him would doom me to experience, and I can’t accept that, pregnant or not.

I can’t go through with a marriage that will make me miserable for the rest of my life.

Leonardo symbolizes everything that I hate—ownership, control, suffocation, all things that he would inflict on me if I were to become “his”.

I would be nothing but an accessory until my old age.

I put all thoughts of a potential accidental pregnancy aside, hike up the skirt of my wedding dress around my thighs, and open the latch on the window, holding my breath as I push the pane open and hope that it doesn’t creak.

Big, old churches like these are notoriously creaky, but perhaps God is looking over me now because the window swings open without a sound.

I peer out the window, looking quickly down both sides of the street to make sure Leonardo didn’t have the foresight to place guards outside.

There are undoubtedly guards outside the front of the church, as there are outside the door to where I’m soon expected to walk out of.

But I can’t see any here outside my window.

Perhaps he didn’t think I would be bold enough to climb out the window and escape onto the street.

Honestly, even I didn’t think I would be bold enough to do something like this.

I don’t even know where to go. My only friend here is Isla, and she is sitting inside the church right now.

I’ll have to rely on the kindness and sympathies of the Italian people meandering the streets outside since I have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide once Leonardo finds out that I’ve run away from our wedding.

I just need to make it somewhere safe to hide.

I climb out the window as fast as I can.

My dress snags on the window hinge, and I have no choice but to tug at it until it tears.

Once free, I take off running down the street alongside the old brick exterior of the church.

For a second, I feel exhilarated and hopeful that I’ll get away from all of this.

Granted, I feel the weight of guilt over my father sitting in the front pew of the church, waiting to see this arrangement come to fruition, he married me off into, , but I can’t let that remorse slow me down.

I kick off my heels, letting my bare feet scrape against the sidewalk as I run, and take a sharp turn around the building to disappear into a side alleyway. But no sooner do I turn the corner, one of Leonardo’s men turns from his position at the perimeter and spots me.

“What the—hey! Stop right there!” he shouts as soon as he sees me standing out like a sore thumb in my brilliant white dress against the rich, reddish-brown buildings. He whistles for backup, and within seconds, several of Leonardo’s men are racing toward me.

Frantically, I look around as panic sets in.

I can’t outrun them in this heavy wedding dress, and I can’t fight against them as they’re much stronger than I am.

They’re also armed, although I’m not sure how kindly Leonardo would take to them creating as grisly scene, shooting the bride on his wedding day.

Still, I wouldn’t put it past them. Leonardo values appearance and reputation above all else, but he also despises humiliation and rejection.

Such things trigger volatile responses and amplify his intense rage if he feels his power threatened.

It’s the one thing that can crack his unsettling public composure, and it’s something that I would prefer not to test with my life.

I’ve been careful all this time not to upset his emotionally volatile demeanor, but this act of betrayal on my part will undoubtedly put him over the edge. I have to get away.

I turn and run in the other direction but can hear them closing in on me from behind.

From my peripheral vision, I can see how narrow the streets here are, and how uneven the cobblestone is too.

I decide to take the chance, crossing the street to see if I can slip away among the people perusing the quaint little shops surrounding the area.

But as soon as I step out onto the street, I hear the squealing brakes of a car and turn to look at a black car stopped merely a few feet from me.

“Get in!” a voice calls from the open window.

Adrenaline pulses through my veins so hard that I can hear my heartbeat in my ears over the sudden fear of nearly being hit by oncoming traffic.

But then Luc sticks his head out of the driver’s side window and motions for me. “Valentina, get inside the car now!”

Instantly, I do as he says and run toward the passenger door that he’s flung open for me.

I jump into the seat and slam the door closed on the train of my wedding dress just as Leonardo’s men reach the side of the car and try to grab at me.

One of them aims his gun at Luc, but Luc punches the gas and runs over the guard’s foot.

Behind us, there’s a loud scream of pain and a few poorly aimed shots fired.

“Get down,” he says as he reaches his arm out protectively and pushes me down in my seat to avoid the gunfire.

But Leonardo’s men aren’t fast enough to stop him as Luc races past the cathedral and drives away.

I look out the side mirror of the car and catch sight of Leonardo as he steps out of the church to watch the tail end of the chaos and the car that Luciano speeds away with me in.

Even from a distance, and in the mirror's distortion, I can see the seething rage on Leonardo’s face.

I only hope that he doesn’t take that rage out on my father in my absence.