by Sienna Mynx
“Another thirty minutes.” Zia said.
“Ah, Mira, Catalina and I spoke. We agreed, I’m staying at Melanzana for now. I called Papa and he’s okay with it.” Rosetta smiled. Mira glanced at Catalina, who shrugged and looked away. Rosetta cleared her throat and continued. “I was thinking that I could go with Cecilia and you on the honeymoon.”
“What?” Catalina frowned. Zia’s brows lowered with concern as well. Rosetta waved her hands at them. “Only to help. I know she and Gio will be busy, and Cecilia and I can keep Eve entertained.”
“That won’t be necessary. You stay at Melanzana with me, maybe return to Chianti to help at the vineyard,” Zia said. Mira could see Rosetta’s disappointed pout. She tried changing the subject to lighten the mood. “It’s such a lovely day.”
Catalina and Cecilia leaned over to look out the windows. They talked about what was seen and a few places Mira should make sure Giovanni visited with her during their honeymoon. She asked a couple of questions about the coastal towns and beaches, not really interested. She didn’t swim, and hated open bodies of water, other than glancing at them from afar. If he kept her in a room and made love to her for two weeks, she’d be a happy donna. Mira touched her tummy. She hadn’t had any morning sickness or strange pelvic cramping since some time yesterday. She took her prenatal vitamins and tried to be easy on herself. The worst was definitely over.
“We’re here!” Rosetta cheered. Cecilia worked on freeing Eve. Zia was the first to move toward the door. It was Catalina that assisted Mira.
“Remember, you have to step out in your veil. Giovanni will remove it. Okay?”
“Got it.”
Catalina paused. “I never had a sister, or girlfriends, and I’ve missed my mama so much since her death, I started to believe I could never be close to another woman. I love you, Mira. I’m really happy for us, that we found you again. Most of all, I’m happy for my brother.” Catalina leaned forward and hugged her. Mira closed her eyes and hugged her too. Without Fabiana in her life, the only family she would ever have would be Catalina and Giovanni.
“I love you too, Catalina. Now go. I’m ready.”
She nodded and scooted over on the seat. A man’s hand reached in to offer assistance. Mira sucked down several calming breaths. She closed her eyes and steadied her nerves. She didn’t see the crowd waiting for her to emerge, but she knew they were there. And so was he.
Remember, you leave the car last. Giovanni will be waiting for you. It’s his way to accept you as his wife, to show your partnership in love and marriage. It also makes it plain to everyone that you are part of our family now. So hold your head high. Always. Everything will be fine, Mira. A blessing from God, I promise. We’ll see you in the church. We will be close behind.
Zia’s words, when she helped her dress this morning, were a comfort. Only because times like this, she missed Fabiana and even worse, she missed her grandmother. With Zia, she believed she could trust in loving a family again, having one of her own.
“I remember,” Mira said to herself. She picked up her bouquet and pressed her lips together to be sure not to get lipstick on the delicate white lace. Slow and easy, she was helped out of the back of the limo to her feet. Immediately, the people around her exploded in applause. She had to blink against the sun, blinding her to the faces of the hundreds gathered. She turned her gaze and scanned the cheering audience.
From the second and third story windows, women and children waved. A few even sat on the roofs, with celebratory flags on long sticks flapping in the wind. Others were packed along the side streets, too many to count. The sunlight in her eyes cleared. Her gut clenched. Waiting before her was Giovanni. He looked effortlessly powerful and was undeniably handsome in his tuxedo. His thick black hair, tapered neatly to his collar, was smoothed back from his face making his cheekbones and jawline profound. The contrast of his naturally tanned skin from years of growing up in Sicily with his mother’s violet-blue eyes, separated him from all other men.
Giovanni approached her. Mira’s heart hammered so fast she suffered sharp spasms of tightness in her chest. Were her hands shaking? She gripped her bouquet even tighter and tried to breathe steady from her nose.
In a blink, he was standing before her. They shared an intimate smile. Giovanni’s neatly groomed hair became ruffled in the breeze, a gentle wind that carefully blew her veil out behind her. His gaze swept her, lingering for a moment on her face.
“Come sei, Bella.” He took the edge of her veil in between his fingers and slowly lifted it to reveal her to all those in attendance. The crowd silenced. Not a word was spoken from man, woman, or child gathered. Even her daughter sat upright in Nico’s arms, staring with curious intensity at her parents. All of which she’d learn later, because in that moment she could see, hear, and feel only what they shared.
“La sua bellezza porta via il mio fiato.”
He told her that her beauty takes his breath away, in a voice so low, that only she could hear. Words from him like this made it easy to believe in all the reasons why this day would be the most memorable of her life. Giovanni swept her into his arms, and his lips descended upon hers, taking the crowd by surprise. Everyone cheered. For Mira, it was the final bind of her submission. She lifted her arms around his neck, melting against him with her tongue joining his.
When he released her, she was breathless and unsteady on her feet. To recover, she held to his sleeve. Giovanni chuckled. She grinned, blushed, and those before them parted. Mira’s hands trembled so bad she feared she’d drop her bouquet. Giovanni guided her steps on the lumpy road with his arm around her waist. And from above, blue rose petals began to fall.
Handfuls of the delicate silky petals were thrown from townspeople, leaning out of windows or standing on balconies. The costal wind swept some up into the air and through the streets, paving the way for them. In the distance, she could hear the ringing of church bells. Together, they led all those who came to witness their union through vaulted alleyways in a maze of side streets that went up and then down. Mira was grateful for her ballerina slippers because as they began their wedding march, she could see the chapel nestled at the highest point of the town against the cliffs. If she had known about this walk sooner, she would have designed a different dress. The long train of lace tulle was becoming cumbersome.
“I’m so clumsy,” she said after a stumble.
“You won’t fall on my watch,” he encouraged her.
She glanced up at him. Hopelessly in love, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “Forever my protector.”
He whispered back that he would do anything for her.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she concentrated on their journey. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”
“They came for you,” he said.
Mira cast her gaze behind them. She knew some were there for curiosity, others because it was expected. But most in attendance were there for him, not her. The family followed close. Nico held Eve up. She held a blue petal in her hand and her pacifier in her mouth. She fingered the petal and stared at it curiously. Behind the family others, mostly children, ran after them stopping to throw the flowers at each other in laughter.
She could have never imagined this. She only saw the ceremony for Catalina and Franco. It wasn’t half as intimate as this. When they reached the bottom steps of the parish of St. John the Baptist, two priests in brown hoods and long robes waited. The hard look they gave her could not be missed. Giovanni helped her climb the brick steps to the doors of the church.
“Why are the doors tied in a blue ribbon?” Mira asked.
“Good luck. For us, it represents the blessing of our union.” He untied the ribbon and released it to the wind that pushed at her from the east. She saw it float on the invisible current to the crowd below.
The doors were drawn open, and side by side, they entered the chapel to the organ music. He walked her down the aisle and found it hard to keep his eyes off her. The dress she made
for him smoothed over her curves, making her appear more like a goddess than a bride.
At the altar, Giovanni resisted the urge to kiss her again. She blinked up at him shyly from under her lush lashes, a sly smile on her lips revealed her desire for him as well. Good. He wasn’t in this one alone. Whatever reasons their love was so undeniable between them, he’d endure.
Catalina and Lorenzo joined them at the front of the church. Mira passed her flowers to her sister- in-law and Lorenzo slipped him the ring. He eased it into his pocket, having forgotten he needed it. Nervous energy left him impatient and breathless. He glanced back at his cousin who, with red rimmed, swollen eyes nodded encouragement.
A traditional Sicilian wedding was often long and formal. And as they knelt for prayer, and stood for their vows, all he could think of was the endgame; a time when the world would have to recognize her as his wife. A time when nothing, or no one, would ever come between them again. Father Anthony instructed them to face each other. Giovanni accepted her delicate hands in his, with their daughter crying to be released from the pew; He said his vows, memorizing each and every one to his heart.
Mira accepted him the same way. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her voice went shaky a few times. None of it mattered. They had already said the words many times before to each other. He eased the band of diamonds along her slender finger, never taking his eyes off her. It was magnificent next to the solitaire that once belonged to his mother.
“With this ring I thee wed,” he said.
Mira accepted his ring from Catalina. She took his hand in hers. “With this ring I thee wed,” she said.
Happiness filled him as Father Anthony said the words Giovanni had waited all day for. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Giovanni swept her up in his arms with a half spin before he kissed her. The return of her tongue diving and sweeping into his mouth sent recharged spirals of desire and bliss through his loins. Everyone stood, clapping. Those already standing, applauded. All of the cheering was muted by her soft breaths of excitement when his lips left her mouth to the hollow of her neck. He couldn’t bring himself to let her go. For the sake of his reputation he should. There were men gathered who silently observed the iron Don melt with emotion. And like a true donna, she understood, and brought him back to reality.
“Giovanni,” she whispered, hitting his shoulder to remind him of their audience. “That’s enough.”
He lifted his lips from her neck and grabbed her gently by the face. “Our love is the most important thing in my life now. I will cherish you always, Bella,” he said.
“Tu sei la mia vita,” Mira said, and kissed him with all of her heart and soul.
There were only a few times in Catalina’s life when she actually saw her brother happy. Most of them were with Mira and Eve. She turned her gaze to the hundreds of smiling faces out in the sanctuary, and found the one person who understood how liberating love could be. Dominic stood with several of their men, watching Giovanni and Mira, and soon he looked to her. Someday, they’d have their own ceremony. He winked at her and she blew him a kiss.
Lorenzo scanned the audience of those gathered. His search for Marietta’s lovely face was soon rewarded. She stood in a row to the back of the church with Renaldo next to her. Even in his limited line of vision, he could see how uniquely her beauty contrasted the sea of faces gathered around her. Last night, he had become quite accustomed to the melting softness of her body; the warm satin feel of her breasts crushed beneath his chest, and the softs sounds of surrender, when she finally gave all the way in to his insatiable appetite and her own. It had been hard to stay focused all day with the knowledge that she was so close.
Marietta stared at him and then the newlyweds. He felt a strange sense of curious connection to the woman. And for the first time, he recognized how similar she looked to his cousin’s new bride. Lorenzo cast his gaze to Mira, and then to Marietta. Why hadn’t he seen the resemblance before? Or had he?
Giovanni and Mira headed to the front of the church and his men filed out. When he stepped down to take Catalina’s arm, he heard her gasp.
He looked over at Catalina, confused. Afraid she’d lost her footing.
“What happened to your face?” Catalina exclaimed. “Your eyes. Are you drunk? And those scratches? Were you in an accident?”
“No. Come, don’t make a scene.” He walked her along with his arm intertwined with hers. He glanced once more over to Marietta, who wore a peach dress; her hair curly and thick, her makeup flawless. She stared at him with the same emotionless expression. When he winked at her, she looked away.
“Who is that?” Catalina asked. She tried to look around him to get a good peek at Marietta as he pulled her along. “The woman? Who is she, Lo? Is she with you?”
“There’s Dominic, go to him.” He ushered Catalina out the door. Soon she was swept up in the celebrating crowd. She glanced back at him with concern and disappeared with the others.
“Everything in order?” He asked Carlo, who appeared at his side.
Carlo eased his hands in his pockets. “Who is the American puttana you brought here?”
Lorenzo sighed. “She’s not a whore. She’s my fucking date! Enough with the questions. See to business!” Lorenzo clipped, annoyed. He turned away. A look over his shoulder and he saw Carlo smiling impishly after him.
“Evviva gli sposi!” A man yelled from the crowd, and the crowd shouted back the same cheer for the newlyweds. Giovanni kissed Mira again and again at the front of the church, forcing her to stand on her toes. Once he released her, those gathered threw confetti and candied covered almonds as they hurried down the steps through the growing crowd. Some of it hurt. Mira ducked and stayed close under his arms.
“Are they throwing rocks at us?”
“No. It’s candy.” Giovanni chuckled. “They throw it for fertility and good fortune.”
Mira laughed to herself. “No need. We got fertility covered. You look at me and I’m pregnant.”
Giovanni signaled to Nico to bring his daughter to them. Mira kissed Eve’s cheek after she was placed in his arms. Surprisingly, her daughter was adjusting well to the attention of others. Her head turned left and then right. She blinked at the celebrating crowd while sucking her pacifier.
“This way, Bella,” Giovanni rasped, taking her hand. Together, they walked toward a garden near the edge of the cliff. The winds were so harsh her veil nearly blew from her head. But she kept up with him, holding her dress to try to manage the trek through the grass. Thankfully, the large umbrella branches of the trees circling the gardens with bushels of flowers in magenta, pink, and yellow, caught most of the wind. And the white tents were ready for the celebration. Lanterns were strung up. Large blue and white ribbons flapped in the breeze from the tops of tent poles. She could hear the band playing traditional Sicilian songs and once they entered the tent, the food on display made her stomach clench with hunger. So many Italian and Sicilian delicacies such as prosciutto, olives, stuffed mushrooms, pickled peppers, salami and calamari were offered. Trays of desserts, meats, pasta, large bowls of soups, all of it was served in a buffet spread.
Near the band was a table covered in white linen, with a blue floral centerpiece and sparkling flutes of champagne set for them alone. Giovanni pulled out her chair and she took a seat. “We won’t stay long,” he announced over the loud music.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
Lorenzo nodded to Renaldo, who immediately left Marietta’s side. He stepped inside the pew and took a seat next to her. For a minute she didn’t speak. He felt her staring at him. “That was Mira Ellison. Wasn’t it?” she asked.
“She’s now Mira Battaglia,” Lorenzo replied.
“I’ve seen her on the news. The designer, who faked her death, reappeared in Italy with a mafia family. I didn’t realize it was the wedding we’d be attending.”
“Problem?”
Marietta didn’t answer.
“It’s time for my fami
ly to meet you. Are you ready?”
She shot him a glare. Her pretty eyes were fierce, distrustful slits. “Why am I here?” she demanded. “And under guard too? It’s not necessary. I feel like a freak the way these people keep staring at me, whispering about me.”
“You’re here because I want you to be.”
“Hmpf! I’ll wait for you to be done Lorenzo, for this to be over. And then we can finish what we started. Let’s not pretend I want to know these people.”
He eased out of the pew. “You’re my date. Show some respect.” He extended his hand. “I insist.”
Eventually, she accepted his palm. He tilted her chin and made her look at him. Marietta did favor Mira, but not entirely. Marietta had a fire about her he’d never seen in any woman. He liked that. Smiling, he took her hand and walked her out of the church.
“Auguri e figli maschi!” Another high-ranking man in her husband’s organization said, kissing Mira on both cheeks. She opened la borsa, and he discreetly dropped an envelope of money inside. So far, she had twenty envelopes and it looked like there were thirty people in line to make a deposit. The other guests were stacking their gifts on three tables. A constant parade of well-wishers offered prayer for Giovanni to have a son. Did these people know she was pregnant or was it just expected that she provide him a male heir? Either way, she found it a bit distasteful, as if inferring that her daughter wasn’t enough. Mira, however, didn’t let her irritation show. She sat at his side and smiled, nodded, and only spoke when spoken to like some empty head idiot. Thirty minutes of the routine and it became tiresome and boring. Soon her attention began to wander to the others. Only fifty of Giovanni’s inner circle was allowed the honor to speak to them directly; and Giovanni seemed intent on seeing each one.
It was during this custom, her focus zeroed in on the end of the line. Lorenzo’s appearance caught her off guard. Everything about his red rimmed eyes and bruised face was troubling. But he was at Giovanni’s side, and that was what mattered.
