“I’m not. Not anymore.” I rolled around to face him.
He watched me for a long time. His lower lip was already swelling, but he’d gotten rid of the blood and changed into a clean T-shirt. That he wasn’t angry at me for punching him showed that he did, indeed, feel guilty. “Mick’s all right. He’s decent, and I’ll make sure he treats you right, trust me. With him I can really keep you safe. If you’d been given to some Captain or an Underboss in another city, you would have been at his mercy. I couldn’t allow that. With Mick, you’ll never have to fear violence. You don’t have to be scared.”
“I’m not. I know Mick. He’s nice.” Mick wouldn’t hurt me, I was sure of that, even if I didn’t know him that well, but given how tight Diego, Savio and Mick were, my brother probably knew every one of his dirty deeds.
Diego looked at me with pity in his eyes. I hated that look because it made me feel so stupid and naïve. Of course, that’s exactly what I was, thinking I could change Savio Falcone’s ways. Even if he married one day, it would probably be the daughter of some Underboss. “Savio’s a player, Gemma. He had the chance to ask for your hand. Dad would have given you to him. Every family would have given their daughter to him.”
I nodded. I’d known this for a long time. I’d chosen to ignore facts and stay in my bubble. I only had myself to blame. It was always easier to blame others, though. “But he didn’t ask. I thought…” I couldn’t say what I thought. That there was something between Savio and me, a connection. “I thought he liked me. I thought I caught him looking at me.”
“He likes you all right,” Diego muttered. Again, I caught the undercurrent of anger in his voice when he talked about Savio. “And, of course, he checked you out. Every guy does.” Diego’s mouth pulled into a grimace as if me looking halfway decent was his worst nightmare come true.
I flushed. “I don’t want to marry Mick, or anyone else…”
Diego got up and threw up his hands. “You can’t have Savio, Gemma. Get it out of your head. Why buy a cow if you can have milk for free? That’s his credo, and the world is full of cows willing to throw their milk for free at Savio.”
I wanted Savio to have my milk, but not on his terms, not for free. Of course, that meant he’d never get my milk. Diego sighed. “Forget him. The sooner you get to terms with marrying Mick, the easier it’ll be.”
The problem was my heart belonged to Savio and even just trying to look at Mick like he could be something for me felt like I was cheating on my heart—and somehow Savio. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to marry someone you don’t want.”
“You really think I’m going to marry for love, Gemma? Grow up. I’ll marry whoever Dad suggests, whoever helps our family improve in rank.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“I’m being realistic. Dreaming about Prince Charming is for little girls, and you aren’t a little girl anymore. Not to mention that Savio is definitely no Prince Charming. He’s the Big Bad Wolf who wants to eat you.” He snapped his mouth shut and actually flushed. It took me a moment to realize why and then I felt my own cheeks heat.
Diego spared us both the embarrassment and stalked out of the room with a look as if he was going to be sick at any moment.
Less than ten minutes later, another knock sounded.
“Go away. I get it, I’m stupid!” I really couldn’t bear another talk with Diego.
The door opened and Mom peeked inside. Her brows crinkled and worry filled her face when she scanned my eyes. “Oh, Gemma. It’s not as bad as it seems.” She came over to me and stroked my head. “Is Michelangelo really that bad of a choice?”
“Apart from his name, you mean?” I said with a small smile, not wanting to worry Mom. She’d been feeling faint a lot since she was pregnant.
She smiled. “I’m sure his parents had a good reason for giving him this name.”
I gave her a doubtful look. Any child given the name Michelangelo had huge shoes to fill and could only fail to do so, especially given that Mick wasn’t the firstborn and wouldn’t become Captain.
“I know you probably don’t feel like it, but Mick and his father are coming over for dinner to celebrate the union.”
“Oh, no, Mom. He’ll know I’ve cried and he’ll feel horrible knowing it’s because of him. I don’t want to make Mick feel bad. It’s not his fault.” Well, technically, it was. He must have asked for my hand, but I couldn’t really blame him for having the guts to ask for my hand. It was nice knowing he liked me enough to consider marriage.
“You’re too kind-hearted, sweetheart. But we can do something about your eyes. We still have two hours. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll look for a nice dress that you can wear?”
I nodded, not even in the mood to argue about Mom choosing my clothes. She’d opt for a modest dress, which was the message I wanted to send Mick anyway.
Two hours later, I was dressed in my knee-long, high-collared dark blue dress but other than in church, I wore my hair down because that way, it covered the red blotches still marring my throat from crying.
When the bell rang, nerves tightened my stomach. I’d known Mick even longer than Savio, but meeting someone after you found out he was going to be your husband was something else.
Dad and Diego went to get the door while Mom, Nonna, and I waited in our small
