When Lucia had bound herself to Dario's murdered brother, it had been done in such haste that they only sealed the union before the Family and never held the blood-bound feast. There had been no banquet, no white dress, no witnesses raising their glasses.
Now, with Dario handing her the title of wife, I thought, why not help her fulfill the unspoken dream every bride of the life carries beneath her grief?
Lucia's expression softened when she heard my words. After all, what woman raised inside this world had not once dreamed of standing in the gown, of being looked at like something worth protecting?
Perhaps Dario also felt there was sense in what I'd said, because something shifted behind his eyes and he held his tongue.
Seeing him soften, I caught the hesitation flash across Lucia's face before she asked, tentative as a girl, "Can I really try it on?"
I nodded and gestured for the boutique staff to help her into the gown.
Dario had already dressed in the groom's suit, dark and tailored close, the kind of cut a Falcone wore when the whole territory was watching. When he saw Lucia moving toward the fitting room, he reached up and began loosening his tie as if to change out of it. I stopped him with a single word.
"Lucia is carrying a child. She's already uncomfortable as it is. What if something happens to her and you aren't here to hold her up?"
When he heard that, he went still and stood silently beside me to wait, though the unease in his eyes was vivid as a confession. A man like him did not show his hand often. He was showing it now, and he didn't even know it.
Noticing the change in him, I sneered.
Before long, Lucia emerged from the fitting room on the staff's arm. Her condition hadn't begun to show yet, and her frame was close enough to mine that the gown fit her like it had been cut for her body and no other.
Lucia could not hide the excitement on her face, though she tried to curb it, asking in a small voice, "Dario, how do I look? Is it nice?"
Her voice drew him out of whatever silence he'd sunk into. His gaze, which had rested on her too long, cleared, and he gave a low hum of approval.
Just then another of the staff came near and drew a sharp breath at the sight of her. "Madonna, the gown is stunning on you. The two of you are the most perfect bride and groom I have ever laid eyes on."
The moment the words left her mouth, every face in the room changed. The boutique went quiet in the particular way rooms go quiet in our world, when no one is sure yet who holds the knife.
Lucia threw an anxious glance at Dario, then pressed a hand to her belly a beat too quickly and forced a polite smile. "No, no, you've misunderstood..."
Before she could finish, I clapped my hands together and said it with all the warmth I could pour into a lie. "She's right. Lucia looks absolutely stunning. The dress might as well have been made for her."
How could I not let the whole room appreciate so beautiful a sight?
Hearing me, Dario turned and looked at me with disbelief written plain across his face. He knew me too well. He knew I had always been protective of what was mine, and there was nothing in this world more mine than that gown. Yet now I not only let another woman wear it, I praised her openly, in front of witnesses, where it could not be taken back.
He opened his mouth. "Caterina, you—"
I blinked, innocent as you please, and cut him off, holding his eyes. "Relax. I'm only saying. Anyway, I've just remembered there's something I have to see to. I'll leave the two of you to it."
Without waiting for an answer, I turned and walked straight for the boutique door.
Dario moved to follow me. Lucia's hand shot out and stopped him.
At the door I glanced back once. Dario was easing Lucia toward the fitting room, careful of her, his palm at the small of her back. His touch was gentle and his attention fixed entirely on her, as though no one else existed in his world. As though I had never stood in it at all.
In that moment something in me went still. Was it truly the law of the Family that drove him to take her, the sacred duty to absorb a dead brother's widow, the thing he'd called obligation? Or had he simply fallen for her?
I didn't have the answer. And I had no intention of dishonoring myself before the Family to go looking for one.
The next day I went to the hospital for the examination, as I'd arranged.
When the doctor asked who the child's father was, I answered lightly. "He's busy. He couldn't come."
That morning, when I woke, I had let myself consider telling him about the baby. After several calls that rang into silence, I gave it up.
By the time it was over, I was pale and weak, and I had to lean against the cold wall for support as I made my way out. Something in me had cracked, quietly, where no one could see it.
When I walked into the main lobby, I saw Dario. He was there with Lucia, bringing her in for a prenatal checkup.
