5. Lucia

The past week went by way too quickly and even as I stand in this church, staring at myself in the floor-length mirror, I can barely believe it’s the same Lucia staring back at me. My makeup is done to perfection, my hair curled and pinned beautifully, and this dress… It’s a girl’s dream come true. 

A delicate lace bodice adorned with intricate hand-embroidered floral patterns, accentuating my curves. Subtle beading and shimmering sequins catch every ray of light, giving the dress an otherworldly glow. A modest sweetheart neckline frames my chest, cap sleeves at my shoulders, and an A-line skirt flows seamlessly from my waistline.

Layers of feather-light tulle and soft silk, create a dreamy, cloud-like effect without looking absolutely poofy and ridiculous. The dress is completed with a long, cathedral-length veil, edged with matching lace appliqués around the border, and finishing with a veil over my head.

This is it. This is my wedding day and I feel absolutely awful.

“All done, Ma’am,” Alana, one of the women Giovanni placed in charge of helping me this week, says. “You look so beautiful!”

“Thank you, Alana,” I say and give her a taut smile, to which I notice her wavering. She looks at everyone leaving the room, then she pulls me close and leans in towards my ear.

“I’ll leave something in your closet for you tonight. It might… It might help you make things easier tonight,” she says and before I could even ask her what she’s talking about, she’s scurrying out of the bridal room. 

Everything about this week felt unbelievable from the moment I arrived at the Vittori estate. The place looked like it was plucked right out of Tuscany Magazine and the inside even more so. 

I am expected to be the mistress of the house, but how do I do that?

Taking a deep breath, I hold my wrist close to my nose and inhale Nonna’s perfume. It always seems to calm me down when I feel like this. But every time I do this, I am reminded of how truly alone I am, and I end up crying.

A knock on the door gets my attention, and when it opens, I see Vito poking his head through. I don’t know why the sight of him makes me so happy, but I rush to him, anyway.

“You look beautiful, Principessa,” he says after getting over the shock of my embrace. “I am guessing you’re happy to see me?”

His chuckle brings a smile to my face, and I nod. “I feel out of place and seeing a familiar face sets me at ease,” I admit as he touches my cheek. “Are the Camorra here?”

The smile slips from his face as he nods sternly. “A few of our bigger names are here to show their solidarity, yes. But the reason I’ve come to see you is to give you away in your father’s stead. If you don’t mind, that is?”

My heart leaps into my throat and I will myself not to cry when I nod. “Yes, I would like that very much!” I exclaim and he embraces me again. Then he pulls away, kisses both my cheeks, and covers my face with the veil.

“Let’s do this, Principessa. Lean on me if you need to,” he says as he holds out his arm for me and I slip mine in. That urge to run away peeks through my defenses, but I remind myself that I have nowhere to go from here.

Then I step through the door and naive Lucia falls away, replaced with the new woman she is expected to be.

The first notes of Pachelbel’s Canon in D start as we appear in the doorway and I feel all eyes on us. I focus on the beautiful melody being played through the cello and piano and get lost in the notes. The beautifully decorated church doesn’t set me at ease…not at all.

With each step I take down the aisle, it feels like I am floating in a cloud of blind trust and unexplored territory. I don’t know Giovanni well as I have only met him twice before - but I knew enough about him to understand that he was a man of power, a man people feared.

I feel his piercing icy gaze as they scan the room with calculated precision, a predator sizing up a roomful of prey. He is a man whose forefathers had built their empire from the ground up, weaving webs of deceit and bloodshed that now earned him the respect, or rather, the terror, of those in his world.

When Vito places my hand in Giovanni’s, it feels like he’s taking the last bit of my freedom with him. But who am I kidding? I was never free in the first place.

The ceremony begins with an opening prayer, followed by readings from the Holy Bible which emphasize the importance of love, commitment, and faith in marriage. I almost laugh out loud but know my place.

After the readings, we exchange our vows. These vows are supposed to be the foundation of the marital union, expressing our love and dedication to each other. Promises to love, honor, cherish, and support one another through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do us part.

But as I say my line, Giovanni leans in close and chuckles. “ ‘til death do us part? No, Micetta, that's not how it works when you're a Vittori,” he says in a low, dangerous voice that sends a ripple of fear right through me.

He smirks as he pulls away, and even as I fear him, I find him sinfully attractive. Why does the devil have to look so beautiful? 

We exchange rings, a gorgeous, delicate band is slipped on my finger and it's only when Giovanni pulls my veil back, that I realize what is about to happen. Leaning in close, he draws his hand to my chin and tilts my head to face him.

“Come sei bella,” he murmurs before claiming my mouth in a kiss that sears me to the bone.

I have never kissed a man before today and the way his mouth and tongue tease mine, I don’t even feel inexperienced. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me hard towards him and I gasp when I feel his hardness pressing up against me.

It hits me then that tonight he will expect more than this - tonight I have to give him all of me. 

Giovanni pulls away with a grin and the entire church bursts with applause and cheers. The priest names us husband and wife and we go to meet our well-wishers. I don’t know anyone who is wishing us a long and happy marriage and in the rain of confetti and rice, we make our way to the door. 

Our limo ride to the reception is filled with fraught, stony silence, with Giovanni making it known how little I mean to him. The venue for the reception is an ancient, yet immaculately restored villa, with carefully manicured gardens boasting vibrant flowers, perfectly arranged to create a breathtaking backdrop.

The soothing melodies of a string quarter greet us when we arrive, which echo through the sun-drenched courtyard adorned with intricate stone statues and fountains. The scent of fresh lemon and olive trees fills the air, reminding me of the yard back at the convent.

The tables are dressed in fine linens and topped with crystal glassware, silverware, and exquisite centerpieces. A sumptuous feast of traditional Italian dishes, including handmade pasta, succulent osso buco, and delicate seafood risotto, awaits us and I find that I am quite hungry.

Throughout the evening, the sounds of laughter and lively conversation fill the air, accompanied by the soft melodies of a live band. I couldn’t feel more left out of my own wedding, especially when Giovanni doesn’t even introduce me to half the people who come to greet us.

Everything today was an elaborate affair, a spectacle befitting the union of two powerful families. But the air was thick with tension as if the slightest misstep could disrupt the delicate balance of power between the Camorra and Vittori family.

I am on my third glass of wine when the piano and cello start playing something low and emotional. I recognize the melody as ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ and when Giovanni gets to his feet and takes my hand, I know it's time for our first dance.

He places a hand on my lower back and leads the dance while I am once again drawn into the enigma that is Giovanni Vittori. Why does he seem so cold towards me when his gaze burns with passion as he looks into my eyes?

With each step, I can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, a syncopated pattern that matched my own. It was at that moment I realized the enormity of our situation: I am married to a murderer, the son of a mob boss.

The song draws to a close and Giovanni leans in close, stroking his lips against mine. But before he can kiss me, a distant roar echoes through the night, and with it, an explosion of shattered glass and deafening screams.