3. Lucia

Three years after my life was changed forever, I am sitting in the church pew with a single luggage bag containing my belongings. Today I am to meet the man my father promised me to, today my life takes a turn.

The nuns were even more strict with their training, making sure I knew how to behave like a woman. Only this time I was forced to walk in heels for weeks on end and someone was sent in to teach me how to do my makeup as my husband would expect of me. 

Yesterday Vito brought me a gift I haven’t opened yet, and this morning Nonna Lola and I had our traditional birthday cupcake. But even as I blew the rose petal, I didn’t make a wish.

Wishes are for children who have futures, not for brides who have never met their fiancees.

“Tesoro,” I look up when I hear Nonna Lola’s voice and frown when I see her walking over to me. She’s wearing a bright smile and her eyes are shining with tears. “Oh, I am so happy to have caught you in time!”

“Nonna?” I say and get to my feet to meet her as she shuffles towards me down the aisle. She’s getting so old, I never noticed this before, but she looks exhausted too. “Why are you here?”

She sniffs and takes my hand before placing something into it. “You’re not the only one leaving here today, Tesoro. I will finally be resting after today, as I no longer have you to look after,” she says. “And I wanted to give you this.”

I look down to see a vintage blue frosted glass perfume bottle in my hand. Glancing up at Nonna Lola and seeing the excitement in her eyes, I hold the dainty glass up and open the stopper. 

Immediately, the scent of rose and vanilla fills my senses and fresh tears spring into my eyes. It feels new and familiar at the same time, and it reminds me of every birthday I have spent with her in that kitchen.

“My grandson works as a perfumer for some company, Roberto Cavalli, I think?” she says. “Anyway, I asked him to make this so you don’t forget me. The rose is from every petal I have kept from your cupcake, except this morning; that one I am keeping to myself.”

If I could sob right now, I would, but I don’t want Giovanni to think I am crying tears of fear, so I keep it bottled up. I look down at what is the most precious thing I own now and hold it close to my chest, over my heart, before pulling her into my arms.

“As if I could ever forget my only family,” I say, kissing the side of her head. “Thank you, Nonna; this means the world to me!”

She nods against me before pulling out of my embrace. “I will miss you, Tesoro,” she says, cupping my cheeks. “If things get too rough, just try to remember our good times together.”

“I will,” I immediately say because I don’t want to know what she means by ‘if things get too rough’. When we say our final goodbye and I can breathe again, I use some of the perfume on my neck and smile. 

At least I’ll smell like a good memory on the way to my death. 

After slipping the perfume into my bag, I am about to sit down when the church doors open and Badessa Maria hurries towards me. She’s wearing an anxious look on her face and her cruel eyes don’t leave mine. 

“Come,” she says. “He is outside.”

A sudden urge to escape washes over me, but I push it down as soon as it rears its ugly head. My heart is pounding so loud in my chest as I pick up my only bag, and I swallow the trepidation that seeps into my skin.

They groomed me to be the perfect Mafia wife, but who exactly is this man I am being given to? He is Mafia, so there will be cruelty there. Will he raise his hand to me if I don’t behave? He is the eldest son, so he must be old like Vito as well. 

Ah, is this the punishment I get for being a non-believer in a convent?!

I have always dreamed of meeting my one true love. One who wouldn’t abandon me, one who treats me well and loves me through the bad times. One who is sweet and kind, and one who will help raise our children.

I can only hope Giovanni is a good man, but he’s Mafia… He would have killed hundreds of people.

When the Badessa opens the large church doors and I follow her through, the sun blinds me momentarily. I try to blink when I hear a car door slamming and when my eyes focus again, the person walking towards me is not what I imagined at all.

Tall, dressed in a black suit clinging perfectly to his body and wearing a pair of sunglasses; if this is Giovanni Vittori, then everything I have thought about him is false. He looks older than me, yes, but not by many years. Thirty, probably?

“Lucia Moretti,” he says in a husky lilt to his deep voice that sends shivers down my spine. “Finally, we meet.”

He comes to a stop in front of me, my mind swimming in his intoxicating scent; A mixture of spices, wood and leather. When he removes his sunglasses and smirks, my heart drops into my stomach and my mouth falls open.

Thick dark hair, blue eyes the color of my birthday cupcakes, a light boxed beard trimmed to perfection, and from what I can gather by the top two open buttons on his shirt, a tattooed chest. 

I am in deep trouble… this man is incredibly handsome.

“Giovanni Vittori, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I say, and hold my hand out to him as the lie slips out. He draws my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, silencing my thoughts immediately. 

I notice that his fingers are tattooed with the words VIDI VICI - ‘I saw, I conquered’, and I wonder if that means me as well. He looks at the lone bag at my feet and frowns. 

“Is this all you’re taking with you?” 

I nod and backpedal, because I need to use my words. “Yes, it is all I own.”

A scowl crosses his face and he holds up his hand; a man appears out of nowhere to take my bag and Giovanni turns his back to me. “Come. We have a long flight ahead of us. There's plenty to arrange before the wedding next week.”

It’s only when I am seated next to him in the black car with tinted windows, that I realize what he’s just said. “Next week? That soon?”

Giovanni clips in my seatbelt, and grins when he leans his face close to mine. “Next week is too late, Micetta. If it were up to me, you would have been my wife when you turned eighteen, but here we are,” he says.

The cruel tone of his voice is a contrast to the warmth of his scent, and I am left reeling at his words. The fact that he called me ‘kitten’ felt like an insult, and I found myself pulling away from him as he sits back and chuckles. 

“We’ll be in each other’s company for almost thirteen hours. Get comfortable or I’ll be forced to make you comfortable,” he says, blowing the last of my hopes for a good man away.