Celeste;
Loud spontaneous chatters fill the spaces. The evening winds blow south, cool against my skin and carrying a stiff feeling—perhaps a manifestation of what I feel inside.
Arm wound around Romano's, I flash him a smile when he looks down at me. The silver from the moon's glow catches on those beautiful orbs of his. He smiles back.
But I can see it. Forced. Maybe he sees mine too.
Our eye contact breaks when the entire garden quiets down, and I swing my gaze to see Ruggiero parting the civilized crowd. He stands right in the middle.
"Let's go meet father," warm breath fans my ear before I register Romano's voice.
"Mm," giving a noise of agreement, I follow suit as he leads us to the gathering.
My heels dig into the soil, soft orchestra music encompassing the atmosphere. The atmosphere soaks in a myriad of sweet flowery essences.
"Right, here they are." Ruggiero's proud chuckle greets us as we approach.
Romano lets go of my arm for a bit, going over to give his father a sort of hug men do, receiving a clap on the back. "Congratulations, son."
"Thank you, father." He steps back toward me, taking my hand in his large palms this time.
And I just stand there, cheeks heating with warmth.
Don't know if it's from my makeup or not.
"Congratulations on finally having a daughter-in-law, Ruggiero. Romano didn't disappoint at all." The man who says it regards me with mildly intrusive attention.
The Giordano Don bursts with laughter, eyes crinkled with aged lines as he shakes, finding whatever the man—I guess it's his associate—said funny.
"When as he ever?" he grunts a smug reply.
Finally looking in our direction, he starts, "You must know Castillo Alvarez Mendoza? A very reliable source from Barranquilla." His inquiry is surely directed at Romano.
That explains his weird, chopped-off accent. Colombian scum.
I reserve my distaste, schooling my expression to remain all bridal and smiley.
"Nice to make your acquaintance," Romano sticks out his other hand for a handshake the two men briefly indulge in.
"And to you, Mi Señora," Castillo splays his palm, his mustache-lipped smile tilting.
I insert my hands into it, shriveling at his lip on my bent knuckles.
Chuckles from the circle echo, and others respectfully utter their congratulations. While the Don continues to introduce his Underboss to more allies and associates, I can barely keep up.
An Emiliano Vargas Reyes, Mexican hitman. A Diego Navarro Ortega, his wife Valeria Navarro Ortega. One Mrs. Alessia Ferraro.
Gosh, it's a miracle that I manage to chip in their names to memory—the spy in me, naturally.
I feel like except for the promise of Galo's properties and influence, Romano has a lot to gain from this union of ours.
Like a push up an inside rank that I know nothing about.
Hmm, much likely.
One of them goes straight to wish us healthy babies and heirs. I outright cough at that, eliciting laughs and giggles from the ladies. However, I still manage a noncommittal, "Thank you."
Flicking my gaze to the spray of clothed dinner tables dotting the space, decorated with fancy settings, artificial floral vases, and fine China.
With all the strings of lights and lit bulbs, the moon still shines brightest. Slow violin music plays in the corners.
An acoustic version of Arctic Monkeys' I Wanna Be Yours.
The ambiance feels kind of stiff and dense, and I have a sudden impulse to wrap my arms around myself.
Couples steal the dance floor, rocking sensually to the slow beat of the music.
I'm too occupied to realize that the manly talks have muted out of earshot. And Romano is already standing in front of me with striking tailored suits with sharp lapels. A glint catches my peripheral view before I spin to face him, my mouth hanging in surprise.
Yes, real surprise. "You bought a ring?" A muffled gasp escapes me.
He merely throws me a grin. "Yeah, why not?"
Is he serious? Why not? I coast a glance to his face. "I meant…none of this is real, so why—"
"Wouldn't that have sparked suspicion?"
Oh. Fair.
Mumming my lips, I nod and reach out my left hand. He takes it and slips the ring on.
The diamond glints beautifully. "Thank you," I murmur, partly mesmerized.
He doesn't say a word, just nods with a smile and slides the box back into the pocket of his black pressed slacks.
The weight of the ring suddenly feels heavy, imprinting. Reminding me in all shades of what I'm going into.
My chest feels constricted and choked with trapped oxygen. "Excuse me for a bit," I break the silence. "Need to use the restroom."
"Okay, I'll be here."
Wasting no more time, I hurriedly pace away, lifting my teal-colored dress to allow swift movement.
The gentle music dulls to a cease the more I half-sprint away. Except I'm not going to the restroom.
I find myself far from the boisterous laughter and cheerful clinking of glasses. Quietly mulling over my life's decisions so far. A sense of sobriety takes over me.
Puffing icy breath from my mouth, I try to kill the stinging feeling in my heart with numbness. Unproductive.
So I sigh into the wind as I lean against the alcove.
But in return, the wind carries a low, feminine sound straight into my ears. My eyebrows draw together; I shrug it off as imagination. But it comes again, this time with clarity.
Did I just hear a moan?
As if my realization opens up my hearing, the slap of flesh against flesh follows and my eyes widen.
Did I just walk in on people fucking?
Disgust slithers through my throat—and burns when I notice. It's not just 'any' people.
A sizzling-hot sensation fizzles in my chest when I make out Caruso's built shadow. I trace it all the way to his muscled figure, purposefully ramming into a blonde with powerful thrusts. Her hands all over him, clinging to his body.
Mine freezes, a spot in my chest carving inward—tight, sharp, suffocating…
Caruso is balls deep inside her. And I don't look away.
When the acid in the back of my tongue feels like it's too much to take, I subconsciously begin taking weak steps back.
Questioning the stupid sensation overriding my senses like a tidal wave.
Why the fuck am I feeling this way? Not like he means anything to me.
'Stupid.' 'Stupid.' 'Stupid.' Uttering mental curses in my head.
And then I stumble on rough gravel, gasping, merely catching myself in time.
But it's too late. Caruso's eyes collide with mine—deep forest green, darkened at the edges like something feral lurking beneath.