Page 26 of Savage Union (Rosso Mafia #1)

Vito

Father Alessandro greets us at the entrance to his modest office, a small space tucked behind the main sanctuary. His kind face breaks into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes—he's known me too long to be entirely comfortable in my presence, though he'd never admit it.

"Don Rosso, welcome." He extends his hand, which I shake firmly. "And this must be your fiancée."

Caterina stands slightly behind me, her posture rigid with tension.

The attack has left her visibly shaken, though she's doing an admirable job of hiding it.

Most women would be hysterical after what just happened.

But not her. Even now, with adrenaline surely still flooding her system, she maintains her composure.

It's one of the many qualities that make her suitable to be my Donna, whether she recognizes it or not.

"Father Alessandro, this is Caterina Gallo, my future wife." I place my hand at the small of her back, guiding her forward. She doesn't pull away, but I feel the slight stiffening at my touch.

"Miss Gallo, it's a pleasure to meet you." The priest smiles warmly, taking her hand in both of his. "I've heard much about you."

"Have you?" Her voice carries a hint of suspicion. "From whom?"

Father Alessandro's smile falters slightly at her directness. "Why, from Don Rosso, of course. When he called to arrange the ceremony."

She glances at me, questions in her eyes that I choose to ignore for now. The less she knows about certain aspects of our arrangement, the better. Some truths are best revealed gradually.

"Please, sit." Father Alessandro gestures to the chairs arranged across from his desk. "We have much to discuss about your upcoming nuptials."

I take the seat nearest the door, positioning myself with clear sightlines to both exits—a habit ingrained through years of survival.

Caterina sits beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap, knuckles white with tension.

Despite everything, I find myself wanting to reach over and cover her hands with mine, to ease that tension. I resist the impulse.

"Normally, I would require several months of pre-marital counseling," Father Alessandro begins, shuffling papers on his desk. "But given the... circumstances, we'll condense the process."

"What circumstances would those be?" Caterina asks, her tone deceptively casual.

The priest glances at me, uncertainty flickering across his features. "I understand there are, ah, family considerations that necessitate an expedited timeline."

"You could say that," she mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

I ignore the comment. "Three weeks from today, Father. Everything must be in order by then."

"Yes, of course." He nods solemnly. "The church has been reserved, and we can proceed with the necessary preparations. But first, I must ask some questions of you both. To ensure you understand the sanctity of the commitment you're about to make."

Beside me, Caterina shifts in her seat. A slight movement, but enough for me to notice. Her mind is elsewhere—likely still processing the shooting, trying to reconcile the fact that I pushed her to safety, that I chose to protect her over allowing Dante to shield me.

I'm still processing that choice myself. It wasn't calculated. It was instinctive. When I saw the car bearing down on us, my first thought wasn't for my own safety but for hers. An unusual lapse in my typically precise control.

"Don Rosso?" Father Alessandro's voice pulls me back to the present. "Are you listening?"

"Repeat the question," I instruct, not bothering with apologies.

"I asked if you both understand that marriage is a lifelong commitment, intended to unite two people in the eyes of God for the purpose of mutual support and the creation of family."

"Yes." My answer is immediate and firm. Traditional family structure has always been the foundation of our world. It's one of the few aspects of the old ways I respect.

"Miss Gallo?" The priest looks at Caterina expectantly.

She hesitates, then nods. "I understand the concept."

Her careful wording doesn't escape me, nor does it escape Father Alessandro. "It's more than a concept, my dear. It's a sacred vow."

"Is it sacred when it's forced?" The question slips out before she can stop it, her eyes widening slightly as if surprised by her own boldness.

Father Alessandro's expression clouds with concern. "Forced? I was under the impression this was a mutual decision."

Before Caterina can dig herself deeper, I interject. "What my fiancée means is that there are family expectations at play. As there always are in our world." I place my hand on her knee beneath the table, a warning pressure that she doesn't miss. "Isn't that right, bambola ?"

She meets my gaze, a flash of defiance in her eyes before she relents. "Yes. Family expectations."

The priest doesn't look entirely convinced, but he's been the parish priest in a neighborhood controlled by La Famiglia for too long to press the issue. "I see. Well, these... expectations... shouldn't overshadow the genuine commitment required for a successful marriage."

"We understand that, Father," I assure him, my hand still resting on Caterina's knee. To my surprise, she doesn't try to remove it.

"Good, good." He shuffles more papers, pulling out a checklist. "Now, let's discuss the specifics of the ceremony. Will you be following the traditional Catholic Mass?"

"Yes," I answer before Caterina can object. "Full traditional ceremony."

"Very well. Have you discussed who will be in the wedding party? Best man, maid of honor, groomsmen, bridesmaids?"

Caterina stiffens beside me. This is clearly a detail she hasn't considered—or more likely, has been actively avoiding thinking about.

"Rafa will stand as my best man," I say. "As for the rest, we'll provide a final list next week."

"And who will be giving the bride away?" Father Alessandro asks, making a note.

The question lands like a blow. Caterina's father is dead—by my hand. We both know it. The priest likely suspects it, though he would never say so directly.

"My—my uncle," Caterina says, surprising me with her quick thinking. "On my mother's side."

It's a lie, but a convenient one. I make a mental note to find a suitable stand-in before the ceremony.

Father Alessandro nods, continuing down his list. "And have you discussed children? The Church views the openness to life as an essential aspect of the marital covenant."

I feel Caterina tense beside me, her breathing quickening slightly. The idea of children is clearly another reality of our impending marriage she's been avoiding.

"We will have children when the time is right," I state. The thought of Caterina carrying my child, of continuing the Rosso bloodline, sends an unexpected surge of possessiveness through me.

"And you're both entering this marriage with no prior entanglements? No previous marriages or commitments that would impede your ability to fully commit to one another?"

"None," I confirm.

"No," Caterina echoes, her voice oddly hollow.

The priest makes another note before looking up with a smile that's meant to be reassuring. "Now, this is a somewhat delicate topic, but I must ask about the physical aspect of your relationship."

I feel Caterina go completely still beside me.

"The Church teaches that intimate relations are reserved for marriage. Have you both been observing this teaching in your engagement period?"

The question hangs in the air between us. I know the expected answer—but before I can speak, Caterina surprises me yet again.

"We haven't been intimate," she says, her voice steady despite the flush creeping up her neck. "But I wouldn't mind if we were."

I turn to look at her, searching her face for the game she's playing, but her expression gives nothing away.

Father Alessandro clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, I must encourage you to wait until after the sacrament has been performed. The anticipation will make your wedding night all the more?—"

"Father," I interrupt, my voice controlled despite the sudden heat coursing through my veins. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Oh. Of course." He stands, looking relieved at the interruption. "I'll just... check on the preparations for Sunday's Mass. Take your time."

The moment the door closes behind him, I turn to Caterina. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Her expression is the picture of innocence, but there's a challenge in her eyes I know all too well.

"Don't play games with me, Caterina." I keep my voice low, though I doubt the priest would eavesdrop. "Why would you say that?"

"Say what? That I wouldn't mind if we were intimate?" She leans closer, her scent—vanilla and something uniquely her—clouding my senses. "Maybe it's true."

"Bullshit." The crude word feels strange in this setting, but necessary. "Three hours ago you were reminding me how much you hate the idea of marrying me."

"That was before you saved my life." Her gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes. "I believe in repaying my debts."

Understanding dawns, sharp and unpleasant. "You think you owe me your body because I protected you?"

"Isn't that what you want?" The challenge in her voice is unmistakable now. "Access to my body? Isn't that part of this whole arrangement?"

I lean back, a cold fury replacing the heat from moments before. "If you think I want you out of obligation or gratitude, you understand nothing about me."

"Then enlighten me." She crosses her arms. "What do you want from me, Vito?"

The question is deceptively simple, the answer anything but. What do I want from her? Compliance, certainly. Respect, eventually. But there's more—something I'm reluctant to acknowledge even to myself.

"I want you willing," I find myself saying, the words emerging without my full permission. "Not grateful. Not obligated. Willing."

Her eyes widen slightly, genuine surprise replacing the calculated challenge of moments before. "That's... not what I expected you to say."

"I'm aware." I stand, needing distance from her and the confusion she creates in me. "We're done here for today. I'll arrange another meeting with Father Alessandro when you're prepared to take this seriously."

"I am taking it seriously." She rises as well, facing me directly. "You're forcing me to marry you. To share your name, your bed, your life. Forgive me if I'm trying to understand what that actually means."

"It means exactly what I've told you from the beginning." I move closer, unable to help myself. "You will be my wife. The Donna Rosso. Everything that entails."

"Including your bed?" She doesn't back down, even as the space between us narrows.

"Eventually." I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, allowing my fingers to linger against her cheek. "But not as payment for protection. Not as settlement of some imagined debt."

She swallows, her pulse visibly quickening at the base of her throat. "Then when?"

"When you want it as much as I do." The admission is dangerous, revealing more than I intended. "When there's no calculation behind it. No strategy. Just desire."