Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

A beautiful creation of lace and exquisite tulle enrobed a body form. A seamstress came in yesterday to take my measurements. I had two days to gird myself for the impending nuptials, but a spiky ball of anxiety was my constant companion. The acid in my gut pushed up my throat. Breathing became a chore. Sand scratched my eyes, and a headache tattooed itself on my skull despite giving in to one of Renz’s pain meds.

“This should fit you,” a voice said behind me. I turned to Griselda, who couldn’t hide how gleeful she was at my predicament. Her whole demeanor screamed, I win. Sandro was going to end up with her, after all. But I was in my didn’t-give-a-shit-about-Sandro era.

She moved closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “At least I didn’t remind Gian that you are not a virgin.”

Once upon a time, if I had known Sandro had reconciled with Griselda, I would have raised hell because she was the reason I lost my virginity in an unsavory manner.

“You’re still a bitch.” I pushed out the derogatory word that rarely passed my lips, but these past forty-eight hours seemed like an exception. Everyone around Renz and me were assholes or fuckers or bitches. Talking was a chore in itself because the only person I wanted to listen to was Renz. I resisted getting into my head too much, concentrating on my brother and his unconscious state. After I said my vows to Gian today, Renz would be free.

I tried not to dwell on the upcoming wedding night, although calling this a wedding was a stretch. Another of my girlish dreams ruined because of my obsession with one man. My future was uncertain. Surely, I could file for divorce from Gian after this sham of a marriage. Unless they were going to make me sign some kind of prenuptial agreement. I wouldn’t put it past the Rossis.

“Really?” She laughed scornfully. “I’m the bitch? If it wasn’t for you, Sandro and I would have been married⁠—”

“You dumped him first,” I gritted. “It was only when he became a legendary enforcer that you wanted him back.”

“And he wanted me back, but you had to go ruin it. What happened to girl code?”

Griselda and I were each other’s ruinations. And guess who was our common denominator again—Sandro.

“Girl code…” It was my turn to emit a short, scornful laugh. “We were not even close to that level, Griselda. I’m the one who’s sleep-deprived and you’re the delusional one. But let me remind you how you messed with my head.”

“Oh, give me a break. You were seventeen; you should have known better.”

She walked over to my wedding dress and put her arms around the form, her grin growing wider and more satisfied. “But let’s put this behind us…” She let those words hang and touched her flat belly. “We’re going to be family.”

The idea made me want to hurl. Since captivity, that had been a constant feeling, but I tried to swallow the rancid taste, the bitterness that coated my tongue. I shoved it into the box where I locked down my other feelings for Sandro, tightening them with the chains of my anger.

The sooner this farce of a marriage was over, the better. All I cared about was my brother’s freedom.

That he would get to go home to Liz and Sam and get the medical care he should have gotten two days ago.

I thought about Mom and Dad. They must be going out of their minds. Matteo and Sera should have returned by now, too. At one point yesterday, there seemed to be a commotion around the house. I heard men shouting outside, and I thought my family had found us.

But it was really looking like I was marrying Gian Rossi. Once Renz was free, I could wallow in the other heartache that was pushing in.

It had nothing to do with Sandro. Sandro was dead to me.

No, my heartache was being a failure as a daughter.

My heartache was about Dad.

I’d overheard him one day when one of his associates teased him about Sandro being grumpy to everyone else but me. They said we should be engaged.

And Dad said, “Over my dead body will my daughter marry a Rossi.”

I got mad at him. I thought he was unfair painting Sandro like the rest of his family. But now I realized my dad had always been right, and I just knew my next torment was because I let him down. All my life, I craved my parents’ approval, not because they demanded I do things their way, but because they expected nothing from me. I had only known unconditional love.

I approached the dress form. My icy fingers touched the fabric. My body must still be in a state of shock because all my limbs were stiff and cold. I also hadn’t had a proper meal in days, not having any appetite.

“You know what would make this perfect?” I asked Griselda.

“What?”

“Pig’s blood.” I gave a snort of laughter.

Her brows drew together. “Are you all right?”

But I couldn’t stop laughing even when I tasted tears. “All right?” I glared at her with enough force that made her step back. “What is all right about this, Griselda? My brother is sedated to within an inch of killing him. He needed a hospital two days ago.” I stomped toward her. “I’m being forced into a marriage with a man I hate.” Finally, all the pent-up fury and frustration of the past few days detonated into a maniacal scream. “What is all right about this?”

It did not give me catharsis. I only spiraled deeper into despair.

Rossi soldiers rushed into the room, Sandro and Tommy with them.

“What’s going on here?” Sandro demanded.

Griselda rushed to Sandro and dove into him, shrinking away from me as though she were in danger from me. She probably was.

“She’s becoming hysterical. Maybe she needs some of those meds they gave her brother.”

Sandro shook her hands off. “Fuck off, Griselda.”

I laughed harder, wrapping my arms around my stomach. “Is that any way to talk to your fiancée, Sandro?”

His jaw clenched, and his hands descended on my shoulders. “You need to get ready.”

“Oh, are you here to make sure I’m going through with this farce of a marriage?”

“Yes.”

That one word stabbed me with so much pain, I almost folded over. Tears scalded my eyes and blurred my vision. “Well then, let’s make this perfect.”

I was going to show them what perfect was.

“You look like the bride of Dracula,” Renz croaked from the bed.

I turned away from the mirror. He insisted on sitting up while I went through the motions of getting ready for the ceremony. I’d sent away the makeup crew and told them I could do my own damned hair and makeup.

“Bummer it’s not Halloween.” I walked to his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Floating…” Even in his morphine-induced haze, I could see the pain in his glazed eyes. His lips were almost white. They’d given him a blood transfusion and had him on an IV. The wound was between his shoulder and upper chest. There was swelling around it, and he was running a low-grade fever. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he needed better care, better meds. He would have them tonight. He opened his palm, and I responded by lacing our fingers.

“Stay alive, Smurfette. Don’t do anything stupid.” He pushed those words out with effort. He winced slightly and cursed before trying to focus on me. “We’ll get you out. I swear.”

“I know. Don’t worry about me.”

A knock sounded on the door before Tommy stepped in, dressed in a formal suit and tie.

“Are you here to give me away?”

He gave a slight nod.

“Why not Sandro?” I taunted. “Then this circus would be complete.”

“He has to be elsewhere.”

“Figures.” I didn’t know whether I was relieved or hurt, but my feelings about him shouldn’t matter now. Dead to me, remember?

Renz’s grip tightened. “Say no.”

I pried my fingers from his. “It’ll be over soon.”

“Bianca…” He leaned forward. I wasn’t sure if the agony on his face was from his wound or his emotions.

“You’re going to tear your stitches.” I pushed him gently against the pillows. “Don’t make this all for nothing, Renz.”

“Damn you.” He turned a murderous glare at Tommy. “You’re all going to regret this.”

“Not your place to threaten us, baby De Lucci,” Tommy mocked.

“Don’t rile him up.” I approached the Rossi underboss.

He scrutinized my face. “You look terrible.” He didn’t look pissed, he looked amused, and a note of admiration tinged his voice. “Are you making a statement? The boss won’t be pleased.”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” I retorted.

Tommy crooked his arm, but I didn’t take it and marched ahead, not bothering to look at the mirror on my way out. My hair was a rat’s nest. I showered, blew it dry, and tossed it in a topknot. I didn’t even bother with the veil. Every single person in the room was going to witness my misery.

I could be vindictive.

People thought I was the amiable Bianca who got along with everyone. I tried to get along with everyone because I was blessed with the best family a girl could have. I didn’t lack for love or money, and I tried to put myself in the position of the less fortunate. But make no mistake, I could be as sweet as pie or as scrappy as a junkyard dog when I needed to be. I grew up with three older brothers, and although their tendency was to spoil me, they were still boys. Playful, wicked boys who honed my skills for psychological and physical warfare.

To survive being married to a Rossi and having the backstabbing Griselda as a relative, I had to make a stand now. They would not see a De Lucci cower.

I put on foundation too pale for my skin. I had on red lipstick too harsh for my coloring. Not bothering with concealer, I let my under eyes resemble overstuffed luggage. I overdid the black mascara and liner. My eyes were bloodshot. Renz was right when he said I looked like the bride of Dracula. I certainly felt like it.

Gian Rossi will rue the day he asked me to be his bride.

I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun had set and the whole house was lit up with eerie old-world light fixtures. An elaborate crystal chandelier that probably cost hundreds of thousands hung in the middle of the foyer tiled with Carrara marble.

The area crawled with soldiers wearing suits and communicating with comms. One would think they were the Secret Service guarding the president.

“Where’s the ceremony going to be held?”

I clutched Tommy’s arm as we descended the staircase. As much as throwing myself down the steps to end my misery was an option that crossed my mind, the fighter in me refused to give up.

It was hours closer to my wedding night. If I had a sharp object, would I stab Gian Rossi in the neck before he got the chance to fuck me? I hadn’t thought that far yet. What if he tied me up so I couldn’t fight him? He should know by now he wasn’t getting a meek wife.

As the light in the house grew brighter, my thoughts dimmed. We walked along a narrow hallway lit by elaborate sconces reminiscent of haunted houses. The ones that flickered. The ones that made static sounds. Wood panels and chipped-off paint added to the gloomy atmosphere.

“I don’t hear any music.” I mocked because the sound of my heels on the flooring sounded too much like a march to my doom. I had to break the rhythm before I crumpled and cried.

“Ah, there wasn’t enough time to secure a string quartet.”

“Fully booked, huh?”

“The ones we trust,” Tommy said. “The family is leerier now after what happened.”

“What’s the matter? The news of our disappearance making everyone nervous?”

Tommy’s non-answer was answer enough. Gian Rossi had bitten off more than he could chew, and it had become a matter of pride.

We arrived at the double doors. I stilled myself. I wasn’t going to run. He looked at my hands. “You don’t have your bouquet.”

I glared at him. “We don’t need one for this dark comedy.” Griselda brought one into the room earlier. Red roses and baby’s breath and ferns. I detested baby’s breath and ferns in flower arrangements. They were fillers.

He shook his head and opened the door.

The room appeared sparsely occupied. Rows of foldable chairs. More men in suits and a few women in cocktail dresses were in attendance. I recognized faces from the party two nights ago, but I was shocked to see the man standing at the end of the line.

Sandro. He was standing beside the priest.

“Is he going to be the best man?”

My heart plummeted, past my gut, straight to my feet that refused to budge. Could his betrayal run deeper?

“Come on,” Tommy urged, grabbing my arm and whispering in my ear. “Don’t fight it, for God’s sakes.”

My feet inched forward. Lack of sleep, days of despair, and hours of anxiety were catching up with me. The room was tilting one way and then the other. No. It seemed like the walls had curved over me, shrinking the room. My heart rate skittered.

“Breathe, Bianca. Don’t faint now.”

I spotted Gian Rossi. He was glaring at me and then at Sandro. He was standing beside a much older gentleman who they referred to as the Blind Don, the elder Rossi, the most revered member of the Rossi crime family. Sandro’s uncle. Gian’s adoptive father.

It didn’t take long for us to get from the door to the front of the room since the space was small, and Tommy, sensing that I was about to bolt, hurried me along. Griselda was standing beside the elder Rossi and several women with perfectly coifed hair. Just like Gian, she was staring daggers at me like she wanted to flay me alive.

What happened? Was I marrying Sandro?

The somberness in the room made it look like a funeral instead of a wedding.

Not a wedding.

A ball-and-chain ceremony.

From across the room, even when Sandro’s face was expressionless, I could feel him beseeching me to play along.

The priest stood before us and looked uneasy. He kept patting his forehead as if he was sweating, which reminded me of the dress I was wearing and its high neckline.

Sandro stepped forward, but instead of going straight to me, he stopped by an empty chair and that was when I saw it. A bouquet of sunflowers.

I didn’t know whether to hate him or love him for it.

He walked toward me. A trace of a smile on his mouth. “A bride needs a bouquet.”

I stared at it. The room was just reduced to Sandro and me. It was a thoughtful gesture but out of place in the scheme of things.

“Bianca…” Sandro said with a warning in his tone.

Murmurings went around the room. He held it out again, so I took it.

I could feel his relief, as well as Tommy’s and the priest’s. This wasn’t over. If Sandro thought he could fix this charade with my favorite flower, he was mistaken. It was looking more and more like the grooms had switched.

A fleeting relief loosened my lungs. But until Renz was out of this hellhole and in a hospital, I couldn’t think of a future past that.

I lowered my eyes at the bouquet. Three sunflowers stared up at me, their merry faces giving me a tiny lift.

“Am I marrying you?” I asked, without looking at him.

“Yes.”

Tommy took his place at Sandro’s side as his best man. I was still reeling from the turn of events when the priest started, “We are gathered here today…

“Do you Bianca De Lucci take Alessandro Rossi as your lawfully wedded husband?”

The tears came. The irony of that statement just hit me where everything inside me revolted. Those were the words I dreamed of hearing ever since I turned twelve. That one day I was going to marry this man beside me.

I raised my eyes to Sandro.

He was staring grimly into my eyes. He didn’t want this, but he was doing this to save me. This was not the fairy tale I imagined, but the choice was out of my hands. I did this, Renz could go home.

“I do.”

The priest asked the same of Sandro, and he answered, “I do.”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.”

I stared down at the bouquet and realized I’d mangled one sunflower and its petals lay torn at my feet.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

My head remained bowed.

His finger came under my chin and lifted it so I could look directly into his eyes. There was a trace of apology there.

And when his hard mouth touched mine, it was the briefest kiss in history.

It was worse than the time I kissed him by surprise.

He’d responded then, before pushing me away.

Now all I got was a pity kiss.