Fragile Longing

by Reilly, Cora

I nodded. “I am now.”

  “What about tonight? Are you worried because of last time?”

  “I’m trying not to think about it.”

  “Don’t let him treat you like he did then.”

  “He won’t,” I said. “I told you he was careful and gentle the moment he realized who I was. It was as if he suddenly couldn’t bear touching me.” I tried my best, but I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  “Trust me, he’ll want to touch you. Take control. Don’t just let it happen.”

  “I won’t.”

  Dad’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Two minutes.”

  Anna looked me in the eye. “I should probably hurry to my family. Will you be okay?”

  I took a deep breath, then plastered a firm smile on my face. “Go ahead. I’m fine.”

  She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek then rushed out and closed the door behind her.

  My fingers trembled as I smoothed down my wedding dress and lowered the veil over my face. This was my day and yet . . .

  . . . it wasn’t my name they would whisper in the pews today.

  Because I was the consolation prize.

  The surrogate bride.

  Worst of all, I was not my sister.

  I peered at my reflection, my face hazy through the fine gossamer of the veil. Dressed like this, I almost looked like Serafina, minus the blonde hair. Still less. Always less. But maybe Danilo would see the similarities between my sister and me. Maybe, for a second, he would look at me with the same longing he used to direct at Serafina.

  Before he realized I wasn’t her. Before that look of disappointment settled on his face again.

  Less than he wanted.

  Tearing the veil from my hair, I tossed it away. I was done trying to be someone else. Danilo would have to see me for who I was, and if that meant he’d never look at me twice, then so be it. I was enough.

  I glanced at my cellphone. I’d turned it to silent, but Serafina’s number flashed on the screen. She’d tried to call me yesterday as well, but I’d ignored her attempts to contact me. Guilt flickered within me. I loved my sister, had never stopped loving her even if my family pretended they had. For a long time, the thought of Serafina’s absence at my wedding had made me terribly sad, until suddenly it hadn’t. Until the idea of having her there had made me anxious. If Serafina were here, everyone would only talk about her, even if it was behind my back, and not just that, Danilo would be faced with what he’d lost. I didn’t want his eyes on anyone else but me. There was nothing I could do about his thoughts, though.

  Serafina’s number finally disappeared from the screen, and I stifled a sigh of relief. I wanted this day to be about me. Talking to her now would only increase my feelings of inadequacy. Today, I’d be selfish.

  Dad looked surprised when I stepped into the hallway without the veil, but he didn’t comment. We linked arms and he led me downstairs to the driveway where the bridal car waited. Samuel stood beside it, his vigilant eyes scanning our surroundings. In one hand, he held my wedding bouquet—a gorgeous, sweeping arrangement of white flowers: roses, calla lilies, and smaller intricate blossoms. When his gaze settled on me, his face lit up, his smile easing some of my anxiety.

  Dad led me toward him. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

  Samuel pulled me against him and kissed my forehead. “I can’t believe my little sister is getting married today.”

  “You’re next,” I teased as he handed me the flowers. He pulled away and nodded, the smile becoming tenser. Samuel hadn’t chosen Emma because he wanted her. He’d been forced into the bond in exchange for Danilo marrying me. Sometimes I managed to forget that fact, but now it came back with a soul-sucking force.

  Samuel opened the door for me, and Dad helped me get into the backseat with my long skirt. Samuel sat shotgun while Dad took the seat beside me. Then he gave the sign to the bodyguards in the cars in front and behind us, and we set out for the church.

  Nerves fluttered wildly in my stomach. I twisted my engagement ring around. It was beautiful and I still loved it. Sometimes, I wondered why Danilo had chosen a different design than the one for Serafina. I pushed thoughts of her out of my mind. She wouldn’t be physically present today, and I couldn’t allow her to take up room in my mind, even if it hurt me to ban her from the most important day of my life.

  The drive to church was only five minutes. It had been chosen based on its closeness to our hotel and wedding location to avoid a long drive. The driver pulled the car up right in front of the entrance, where four bodyguards stood at attention.

  Dad took my hand and kissed it. “Ready, ladybug?”

  I nodded, even as my throat became tight. This was it. I’d marry Danilo today and move out of my home. What would my life be like now? I’d been raised in a warm and loving home. Danilo had been so cool and restrained, except for that one night, and the tenderness he’d shown me afterwards had been unexpected.

  Dad opened the door and got out, and like Samuel, he scanned our surroundings first before he held out his hand for me. I doubted anyone would kidnap me. I had never feared that. The Camorra had no reason to do it. They had what they wanted, and I hoped Fina’s influence on her husband would prevent anything from happening.

  I put my trembling fingers into Dad’s, and he squeezed gently, giving me one of his reassuring smiles.

  With a smile of my own, I maneuvered myself out of the backseat. Samuel gave a quick nod before he slipped into the church to give the small orchestra a sign.

  I took a deep breath and gave Dad a shaky nod.

  The moment we entered the church, my skin flushed with heat and my pulse sped up. Everyone stood, their eyes directed at me. Hundreds of guests, most of whom I hardly knew, some not even by name. Now I wished I’d kept the veil. It would have protected me from their scrutiny and hidden my own nerves from the audience.

  Accompanied by violins and a piano, Dad and I slowly walked toward the front where Danilo was waiting. The pews were decorated mostly in white, but unlike my bouquet, the small floral arrangements had dusky pink roses added for a subdued color accent.

  Danilo looked better than he had in any of my wedding fantasies. He was tall and fit, his dark suit accentuating his muscular build and conveying power and sophistication. He wore a silver tie, so fitting for his cool persona. His brown eyes never wavered from me, but his expression was impossible to read. I didn’t detect a flicker of nerves or excitement. He was composed and controlled, as if this was duty and nothing to get his pulse racing. I wished I could be like him, but even now, I longed for a bond driven by love and affection, a bond that went deeper than political tactics.

  When Sofia had taken her sister’s stead more than six years ago, I’d considered her the consolation prize. She’d been a child. I hadn’t been able to see her as anything but the cute kid who followed me like a lost puppy. She’d been an afterthought. My thoughts had revolved around Serafina, around what had been taken from me, what I’d lost. I couldn’t get past that hit to my pride, still battled almost uncontrollable rage when I thought about Remo Falcone, and ever since she ran off with him, Serafina as well.

  I didn’t want Serafina, not the woman she’d turned out to be—maybe the girl I’d desired and longed to possess had never existed in the first place. She was a figment of my fantasies, something I’d construed to make my possession of her an even bigger triumph. I’d been young. I’d enjoyed the envy of other men who wanted her for themselves. Their pity and schadenfreude following my humiliation by Remo’s hand had only fueled my fury and hunger for revenge . . . and my insatiable need to prove myself.

  Today, I considered myself a different person. I was still too prideful, still hungry for revenge, but it wasn’t all-consuming. It had been a long struggle, one I was still fighting, but the party five months ago had only spurred me on.

  In the beginning and over the years, I’d compared Sofia to her sister. Had looked for similarities, for hints that our bond was d
oomed as well. Marrying another Mione woman had seemed like tempting fate.

  As I regarded my young wife striding toward me, I realized she had little of her sister, and I was relieved. Serafina and my obsession with her had almost brought me to my knees. Sofia wasn’t her sister. She was less poised, less controlled, and wore her emotions on her sleeve. I’d considered those traits disadvantages, now I realized they weren’t.

  When Pietro finally handed Sofia over to me, her palm was cold and sweaty in mine. She briefly met my gaze then quickly looked away, her cheeks tinging red. The way her fingers didn’t close around mine and the way she leaned away the slightest bit made it clear that she still hadn’t overcome her aversion to my closeness.

  Since our encounter at the party, Sofia had avoided me and whenever we’d met, she’d been nervous and aloof. She had no reason to be ashamed and she certainly didn’t have to fear me. Her youth and inexperience excused her foolish behavior. I only had my wrath as explanation, and it wasn’t a good one.

  I allowed myself to take Sofia in, to see her for what she was: a gorgeous young woman. Not a consolation prize, not Serafina’s sister.

  And damn it, Sofia was stunning. I was glad she’d stopped dyeing her hair blonde. Her auburn hair contrasted beautifully with her fair skin and baby blue eyes.

  She had a soft smattering of freckles that I’d never noticed before, probably because makeup had covered them up, which was a shame because they added to Sofia’s charm. Her dress wasn’t pompous like I’d thought. She’d opted for an elegant, flowy piece that accentuated her almost elfin figure. I had trouble taking my eyes off her when the priest began his speech. His words held little meaning to me, but with hundreds of eyes on me, I had to pretend.

  Sniffling came from the pews. Perhaps Mom. Ines was usually more controlled, even if her immaculate mask had had a chink in it since Serafina’s kidnapping. I shoved the thought aside. Today, the past would lay dormant.

  After the priest pronounced us man and wife, Sofia stiffened. It was time for the kiss. Ever since that night, my dreams had been filled with Sofia. Kissing had been only a small part of my fantasies. Seeing Sofia’s reaction to my closeness, I knew our sexual encounters would take a very different turn from my dreams—at least until I could show her how good I could make her feel. I hadn’t been a selfish lover in the past, but my one-night stands with the blondes had hardly been about pleasure and more about venting my anger. Of course, Sofia didn’t know that. I could only imagine how she imagined our sex life would be like. While I loved to dominate and was a demanding lover, what Sofia had witnessed definitely wasn’t what I had planned for her.

  Turning fully to her, I took the lead and cupped her cheeks. She met my eyes, and I hoped she could see that from this day forward, I’d do my best to make her forget our painful encounter and all my other fuckups. She closed her eyes when I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers. This should have been our first intimate moment, Sofia’s first experience. Maybe one day she’d only remember the good.

  When I pulled back, her cheeks were red, but she was still tense. Her eyes fluttered open, beautiful blue and unguardedly hopeful. That was the look from the past . . . before I’d crushed her innocence into dust. As if on cue, her expression turned wary. She looked away and I released her face, taking her hand instead. Applause rose among our guests, and soon everyone was standing, waiting to see us out.

  I took Sofia’s hand into mine and led her down the aisle and out the church where staff with champagne and finger food were waiting for us.

  “Are you okay?” I murmured before the first guests could swarm in on us.

  Sofia accepted the glass of champagne I held out to her and took a sip. “Of course.”

  Dante, Valentina, and their children appeared before us, cutting our moment short. Close to an hour of congratulatory words followed before we could finally head to the hotel for the festivities.

  We took a limousine, which gave us another moment of privacy before the party. The barrier between the driver and us was up, so he wouldn’t be able to hear us.

  “Do you like your wedding ring?” I asked, running my thumb over her finger. I had chosen rings that had an ombre-effect, changing gradually from white gold to rose gold. My ring was simple, the white gold more prominent, but the rose gold dominated Sofia’s ring. One side was lined with small diamonds. It was meant to symbolize our different personalities, mine cold and controlled, hers warm and hopeful, coming together with this marriage. I’d planned on telling her during the car ride, but now I couldn’t bring myself to explain the emotional intention behind the rings.

  “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a color progression like that.”

  She fell silent and I was once more at a loss for what to say. In the past, Sofia had tried to engage me in chitchat, but her sudden silence hit me unprepared. I usually only talked business with people. Emma was the only one who engaged me in other topics, but then it was she who steered the conversation. It wasn’t that I didn’t have other interests, but I gave them little room beside work. And with Sofia, I didn’t know enough to even pick a topic.

  “Did you choose the flowers?” I asked eventually and could have shot myself. The only thing missing was a talk about the weather.

  Sofia’s brows puckered. “The color scheme, yes, but Anna and my mother handled the arrangements.”

  “You and Anna are still close.”

  Sofia gave me a hard look. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “She was the reason you were at the party.”

  Sofia let out a disbelieving laugh, jerking her hand away from mine. “I wanted to be at the party to see with my own eyes how you hunted blonde girls. If I’d ceased contact with anyone after that night, it would have been you.” She snapped her lips shut.

  “I suppose I deserve that,” I murmured.

  Sofia turned to the window.

  If she knew why I’d chased those girls, maybe she wouldn’t take it so personally, but I didn’t feel comfortable sharing my greatest weakness with her.

  It was time for our first dance. Sofia had played her part so far. Nobody would have guessed she wasn’t the happy bride she portrayed so skillfully. I caught the occasional flicker of frustration in her eyes, though. Probably because they were directed at me. As usual, my pride stopped me from offering an apology. Instead, I pretended I didn’t notice her sour mood.

  Everyone rose around us, awaiting our dance. I stood and held out my hand for Sofia to take. With a graceful smile, she let me pull her to her feet and lead her to the dancefloor. Her fingers felt a little stiff in mine and the flickers of nerves showed on her face. I pulled Sofia into my arms, my palm on her lower back. She didn’t relax in my hold, but she easily followed my lead. “Are you enjoying yourself at least a little?”

  Sofia looked up in surprise, her steps faltering for a beat but then she moved along again. “Yes, I am,” she said quickly. It was polite and detached. This wasn’t the girl I remembered from previous encounters.

  I gave a terse nod. “Are you angry?” I had trouble analyzing her mood. Anger was part of it, but there was more. She felt uncomfortable around me, and I’d only blamed it on her nerves due to our unfortunate party encounter but now I wasn’t sure.

  “Why would I be?” she asked, but her posture had become even tenser.

  “Because of what happened at the party.”

  Her cheeks tinged red and she frowned at my chest before her face smoothed into her pleasant smile again. “You didn’t know it was me.”

  Her tone and eyes betrayed her words to be false. If she wanted to fool me, she needed to practice harder. “That’s true, but that doesn’t mean you don’t blame me.”

  A hint of frustration flashed across her face. “Should I blame you?” Her voice made it clear she meant it as a rhetorical question. I wasn’t used to justifying myself, so anger reared its ugly head.

  “You weren’t supposed to be at a party, Sofia. We weren’t married yet, so I was
still well within my rights to do as I please.” Our conversation was taking a wrong turn. I had felt guilty afterwards after all, but now confronted with it, I just couldn’t admit to my fault. So fucking prideful, I wanted to kick myself.

  “Many men continue to do as they please. Men always do as they please, no matter the damage they do.”

  It was the most challenging thing I’d ever heard from Sofia. I was glad to see she had some bite. I’d been worried that her youth would make her a fragile thing who would never stand up to me. If she showed some sass on our wedding day, that showed promise. “I most certainly won’t do as we please now that we’re married.” I almost added that I had stopped being with other women since the party, but my damn pride kept the words at bay. It felt like a weakness to admit it aloud.

  “That’s good I suppose.”

  I didn’t get the chance for a reply because our song ended, and it was my turn to dance with Ines. As usual, her appearance gave me a strange sense of premature déjà vu, as if she reflected the future that might have been. She was like the older version of Serafina. If things hadn’t taken the turn they had, that might have been my reality in twenty years. Unlike in previous years, I didn’t feel a pang at that thought. My eyes followed Sofia as she danced with Dante since she couldn’t dance with my father. I was glad to have Sofia at my side, even if I feared our first weeks would be challenging.

  “You can’t take your eyes off her, can you?” Ines asked with a pleased smile as she followed my gaze toward her daughter.

  She was right. I had trouble keeping my eyes off her. She was stunning, and now she was mine. What had been before was now irrelevant. I couldn’t deny that I desired her. It was as if a switch had been turned, especially now that I had every right to claim her. Given our last encounter, I assumed Sofia wasn’t as keen about sharing a bed with me tonight, but I’d take my time giving her pleasure to ease her worries.

  My thoughts got derailed when my eyes passed Emma. She sat at our table, watching the dance floor. She’d put on her brave face, an expression I was too familiar with. Again, she sat at the sidelines of life, forced to see it pass her by. It pissed me off and made me feel guilty all over again. Samuel was dancing with Valentina, and Emma followed them with longing.