I approached Danilo, who was immersed in his work as usual. “I want to walk down the aisle.”
The idea first crossed my mind shortly after Samuel’s visit and had festered ever since.
Danilo looked up from the papers, confused at first and then concerned.
“Emma—” He began as if he was trying to explain to a little kid that her legs didn’t work.
I narrowed my eyes. “I know my body and what it’s capable of. I don’t want to walk down the entire length, just the last few steps from the first row of pews to Samuel. I want to meet him at eye level.” He would still be a head taller, but I had always imagined walking down the aisle, and while that wasn’t possible, I wanted to do what my body was capable of.
I’d spent endless hours in physical therapy, strapped into a harness that kept me upright as my feet barely dragged over the treadmill. I’d cried tears of frustration over my body’s inability to heal completely and tears of gratitude for how far it had come from my almost entirely immobile state after the car accident. But I knew with absolute certainty that my body couldn’t do more than what it was capable of now. I’d made peace with it and didn’t hope for a miracle to carry me down the aisle to Samuel.
My iron will would do that, at least a few steps. I knew it would be impossible to walk all the way down the aisle, but I wanted to stand before the altar for a few seconds. This was my wedding, and I wanted to make this the day I imagined.
Danilo looked doubtful.
“I did some research.” While in our world, my marriage to Samuel was pretty much a novel thing as most disabled women so far had remained spinsters, the outside world was more progressive, and I’d watched countless weddings with a disabled bride or groom to see options. It has given me renewed hope, not just for the festivities but also for my marriage.
“I could wear leg braces,” I said.
“You had them before and hated them.”
He was right. In the beginning, Mom had insisted I wear them. She found them less obvious than the wheelchair, but I’d never liked them. They’d been more hindrance than help, and I didn’t mind sitting in my wheelchair most of the time as it allowed me to reach most places quickly. “I don’t want to wear them daily. I’m just thinking about wearing them in church so I can walk the few steps.”
It was only a small gesture, a tiny moment in time, but I hoped it would show Samuel that we could be partners at eye level. In our world, so many people had trouble seeing me as an independent grown-up woman for the simple fact that I had a disability. And the little girl who dreamed of being a princess wanted to stand in her wedding dress for a moment. The dreamer and the realist in me wanted the same thing for once, which showed me how important it was for me. I was used to compromise, but I didn’t want to concede on this.
Danilo got up and leaned against the edge of the desk to be closer to me. “Emma, even with leg braces, you can hardly walk. You’d need something to hold on to.”
“I could use a walker or maybe even a cane.”
“A walker could work, but even those few steps could be strenuous in a heavy dress, and it would take a long time.”
I swallowed. Danilo wasn’t trying to hurt me or be unkind. He was simply analyzing the situation in his usual manner. “I still have six weeks. I could train daily with an evening gown to simulate my wedding dress.”
Danilo sighed. “We need to talk to Mom first. She’s planned every second of that day in detail. Your plans will change the timing.”
I stifled a smile. Of course, Danilo wanted to be as accurate as possible. His expression remained stern and worried.
“Can you ask her to come over for dinner today?”
Danilo sighed but picked up his phone. I gave him a big smile.
“Don’t get excited yet. You know Mom.”
Danilo was proven right when I told Mom about my plan.
Her eyes widened as if I’d suggested walking naked into church. “A walking frame would ruin your outfit.”
“If a wheelchair doesn’t ruin my outfit, I doubt a walker does,” I said teasingly, but Mom wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Not that she was ever in the mood to joke about my wheelchair. For her, it was always dead serious.
“We could wrap the walker in white silk and decorate it with flowers,” I added.
Mom pursed her lips. “That could work.” She paused, and I knew I wouldn’t like her next words. “But Emma. You have two minutes for the walk down the aisle. That’s the length of the music piece I’ve picked for your entry. With your wheelchair, you can easily stay within the timeframe, but if you try to walk?”
“It’ll take longer, yes. But I’ll only walk a few steps. That takes maybe two minutes longer.”
Mom shook her head. “Getting out of your wheelchair, smoothing your dress, taking the walking frame and then walking a few steps…that could take three to five minutes.”
I looked down at my hands. “I know.”
“You can’t make people wait. They’ll be bored, and it’ll be awkward for them. You know how it is.”
“I know,” I muttered. “We don’t want to bother them with the sight of my disabled body for too long lest they feel uncomfortable.”
Mom glanced at Danilo as if she hoped he’d come to her help, but he was watching me closely. My face probably gave away how close to tears I was. I had grown used to my wheelchair. I could do almost anything I wanted with it, but for my wedding day? I just wished I could walk down a small part of the aisle, even if it was at a snail’s pace.
“Emma,” Mom said softly. “Think about Samuel.”
I pressed my lips together. “You’re right. He’s the groom. It matters what he thinks. But it should matter what the bride wants too.” My voice cracked at the end.
“I’ll talk to Samuel,” Danilo said.
I shook my head. “I want to be present. Call him and put him on speakerphone.” I didn’t want Danilo to blackmail Samuel.
Danilo looked reluctant, but he dialed Samuel’s number.
“Yes?” Samuel asked in a clipped voice.
“Evening, Samuel. I’m here with my mother and Emma, and we want to discuss the wedding with you.”
“All right,” Samuel said slowly. I could hear the rustling of papers in the background. He was probably busy. “What is it?”
“I would like to walk down the last part of the aisle with the help of a walker,” I said quickly before Danilo or Mom could talk for me. “And I wanted to make sure you are aware of my plans.”
“Is that possible?” Samuel asked with a hint of surprise.
“I can’t walk without support,” I said. “I’m very slow and would need a walker, like I said.”
“It could very well take five minutes. People would have to wait a long time,” Mom butted in. “We understand if you don’t want that.”
Silence. Anger and frustration swelled in me. Mom always worried so much about what other people thought, but she rarely stopped to think what I wanted.
“They can wait for the bride on her wedding day. I don’t see a problem. We can cut short the congratulations afterward. They are a drag anyway,” Samuel said as if it wasn’t a big deal, when it meant the world to me.
I bit my lip to stifle a smile at Mom’s stunned expression.
“That’s it?” Samuel asked after a moment, sounding as if he was already busy with something else.
His curt manner didn’t even bother me today. I was just happy that his reaction showed Mom that my wishes were relevant.
It was only three days until the wedding. Giorgia sat in the first row of the church to time me. I was grateful that she took the time to help me. In the beginning, Mom had been there as well, but her presence had been more discouraging than anything else. Now that Danilo was married to Sofia, I spent every day with Mom, and it made me anxious.
“You did it. Faster than last time.”
I nodded and smiled proudly as I sank down on the wheelchair. “I’m getting used to the dress.” I was grateful for what my body had done today. I had ditched the leg braces very early on in our practice and only used a walker.
“Maybe Danilo could even lead you a few steps, then you wouldn’t have to use the walker?”
“I don’t think that would work. He’d have to support most of my weight.”
Giorgia stepped to my left side and held out her arm. “Let’s try it.”
I held on to it and pulled myself into a standing position. My body ached. I wouldn’t be able to practice much more today, but I channeled all of my remaining power so we could practice a few more times without the walker. Danilo was much stronger than Giorgia, so the chances were high that he could steady me even more.
Giorgia spent the night with us. Her brother had work to do, and her mother lived most of the year in Italy, having abandoned Giorgia with her brother and his wife.
“Are you excited?” Giorgia asked as we settled on my bed after dinner to watch a movie.
“Nervous,” I admitted.
Giorgia tilted her head. “Because he’s an ice prince?”
I shrugged. “Because I hardly know him, and I still don’t believe that Danilo didn’t force Samuel in some way. It doesn’t make sense to establish a second bond between our families. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
“Maybe you should just leave it be. Even if there was some deal between your brother and Samuel, that doesn’t mean your marriage can’t be real. I mean, it could be worse. He’s hot at least. The bachelors Mom suggested so far are at least twice my age, divorced or widowed, and live in Italy. I don’t want to move, and I don’t want to settle. Mom wants someone who can finance her luxurious lifestyle, and apparently, only old fools are willing to do that for me.”
I huffed. “You are beautiful inside and out. She’s not looking in the right places. Your curves are spectacular.”
Giorgia jiggled her boobs. “Mom says men only like jiggle in certain places.”
I burst out laughing. “Your jiggle is very impressive. Maybe we can find you a match at my wedding.”
“You focus on you. I’ll eventually find someone.”
SAMUEL
“We caught a Camorrista. He was trying to sabotage some of the gaming machines in my clubs,” Renato said as he entered my father’s and my office in the back of our biggest casino ship. In the beginning, the gentle sway of the ship had been unnerving, but by now, I was used to spending part of my day on water.
Gambling and whores were the golden combination when it came to making money, which was why Renato swam in it.
Dad peered up from a stack of papers with the forged receipts of our bars from our head accountant. His eyes met mine. “You can question him.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Whenever a Camorrista was caught near or in Minneapolis, I made sure I got my hands on him. It wasn’t the same as torturing Remo Falcone, but it was better than nothing.
“He’s mimicking our tactic,” I muttered as I jumped into Renato’s vintage Jaguar.
“Because it’s a good one.”
“Because he’s mocking us,” I contradicted, feeling a familiar fury burn in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Remo Falcone.
Over the years, our war with the Camorra had become less active. Too many soldiers had lost their lives since the war had begun. Dante preferred to hurt the Camorra’s business nowadays and no longer tried to kill the Falcone brothers. Of course, if we managed to get our hands on one of them again, that might change.
I sometimes wondered what I would do if I ran across Remo Falcone. I wanted nothing more than to kill him for what he’d done, for what he’d taken from me. Unfortunately, I knew by killing him, I’d hurt Serafina. She wouldn’t magically stop loving him because I killed him. Worse, she’d probably romanticize his whole existence even more than before. She had forgiven him for kidnapping her, something I could never do and could not understand.
Sometimes I thought I’d kill him anyway. I’d kill him for Enea, Arlo, and Domenico. I owed it to them. They had given their lives for me and my sister. Remo had murdered them, yet they hadn’t been avenged.
“Did you listen to a word I just said?”
I gave Renato a look. He parked the car in front of an Outfit warehouse where we kept bar and restaurant supplies, but in its underbelly, cells for questioning had been set up.
“How are wedding preparations coming along?”
“Good?”
Renato snorted. “You have no clue.”
I shrugged. “I have more important things on my mind than matching napkins to candles.” I got out of the car, and Renato joined me soon after.
He grinned. “What about your bride? You never talk to me about her. Have you made any progress? Are you excited about the wedding night?”
I cocked an eyebrow. Renato and I were used to chatting about our affairs and one-night stands. He obviously thought I’d keep up that kind of talk about my future wife.
“With that face, she’s a ten out of ten. The wheelchair makes me really curious about certain positions, though—”
I shoved him so hard he slammed against the side of his car, then got in his face. “We’re best friends, and I’d die for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for disrespecting my fiancée. So stop talking about her like that.”
Renato raised his palms. “You’re right.”
I took a step back and blew out a breath. He was right. Emma was incredibly beautiful, and if I allowed myself to think about our wedding night, I’d be eager as hell, but my mind was elsewhere, and right now, Emma wasn’t mine yet. She wasn’t even of age yet, so I simply wouldn’t entertain those distracting thoughts.
We entered the warehouse after entering a code into a panel, then crossed one of the aisles to the end of the vast hall until we reached a flap door. A steep staircase led to a basement. The flickering halogen lights stung my eyes as we followed a guard’s pointing finger toward a cell to our right. Inside, we found a no-name from the Camorra. Some lowly soldier from Kansas City. It was the Camorra city closest to our territory.
Several years ago, we’d killed the Underboss there and tried to kill the new one too. Now things were less potent.
Only men like the one in front of me died nowadays. We contented ourselves with pissing each other off. Maybe one day, I’d get the chance to kill another Camorrista of importance.
The Camorrista in front of me sat on the floor and stared up at me with prideful and stubborn eyes. He was trying to make his Capo proud, no doubt. Torture would break him like it broke all of them. All but Remo Falcone. Thinking of how I’d tortured him to within an inch of his life was still one of the fucking best moments of my life, followed by the fucking worst when my twin sister saved him.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over a hook on the wall, then began to roll up my sleeves.
The man sneered up at me. “I bet you can’t sleep at night because you dream about how Remo sticks his cock into your sister’s holes.”
I stalked toward him, grabbed him by the throat, and dragged him to his feet. Renato grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back.
“Your Capo would cut off your tongue and stick it in your ass for speaking those words.”
The man swallowed, but he simply returned my gaze.
“Don’t worry, I’m not getting anywhere near your hairy asshole. I’m not into that kind of stuff.”
“Unless it’s a pretty lady,” Renato said with a grin.
“And cutting off your tongue will have to wait until later. First, we need to have a nice long chat, don’t you agree?” I pulled out my knife, cocked an eyebrow, then dug the tip into the skin beneath his eye, drawing blood. “I asked you a question, and from now on, I expect answers, or you’ll lose all those parts of your body you don’t need for our conversation.”
Blood trickled down his cheek as my knife sank deeper into his skin. He gritted his teeth, wincing. “Fuck you,” he ground out.
I smirked. “Not the answer I wanted.” I cut off his earlobe. I needed to pace myself. Starting with his eyeballs posed the risk of too much blood loss.
He let out a choked cry and struggled in Renato’s hold.
“I hope you’ll be more talkative now.” He didn’t say anything. I tossed the earlobe to the ground and picked up my phone, calling one of the guards. “Bring the rats.”
The eyes of the Camorrista filled with disgust and panic. The guard dropped off a transport box with three rats. I opened it, then tossed the earlobe to the ground. Immediately, a fight between the three rats broke out over the piece of meat. They hadn’t been fed since yesterday and hadn’t had any protein in several days.
I gave our captive a pleasant smile. “They’re very hungry. I’m sure they won’t mind if you keep up your muteness.”
One of the rats scuttled over to us and climbed up the man’s leg. He began to freak out, trying to shake her off, his eyes going wide in disgust.
“Maybe this one didn’t get fed yesterday either,” I mused when the rat reached our captive’s shoulder and tried to reach the bleeding ear.
“Our pifferaio magico trained them well!” Renato said with a laugh. He was referring to one of our guards who bred and trained rats, which was why we called him the pied piper of Hamelin. Father had been reluctant to use rats for torture in the beginning as he found it tasteless, but now he saw their value.
Three hours later, the rats were well fed, and the Camorrista was near death. His breathing was labored as I knelt beside him to end his miserable life in an act of mercy. “Your sister is sucking Remo’s dick every day. Maybe once he grows tired of her, he’ll kidnap your wife and teach her how to suck dick.”
My fingers around the knife tightened, my pulse racing in my veins. I shoved to my feet. “Let the rats have him. It’ll take a few hours for him to bleed to death. They like their meat fresh.”
I walked out of the cell. Renato followed me and locked the door behind him.
“Want to grab a drink?”
I pulled a flask from my jacket and took a sip of vodka. “I have a drink with me, but I’d be up for a few more.”
