Chapter 8 Alejandra

ALEJANDRA

I jumped at the cold disapproval in his voice.

Mom and Dad headed toward us to congratulate us, which didn't give me much time for a reply. "They didn't match the flower arrangement."

I'd fought Mom for weeks over having sunflowers as part of my bridal flowers. Eventually, Dad had settled the matter in my favor, as he usually did.

"You shouldn't have chosen sunflowers. Next time I send you something to wear, I expect you to do it."

I blinked, too stunned for a reply. He straightened. For him, this matter was settled. He'd given an order and naturally expected me to obey. There was no doubt in his mind that I would. His expression was steel when he shook Dad's hand.

Mom pulled me into an embrace, dragging my eyes away from my husband. A frown appeared on her face. "Look happy, Alejandra," she whispered. "Don't you realize how lucky you are? I'd have never thought we'd manage to marry you off to an Underboss, considering all of them were already married.

This is such a stroke of luck."

My smile felt stiff. What was a stroke of luck? That Camila Mancini had died, leaving two small children behind? That I was married to the man who might be responsible for her death?

Mom's expression pinched. "For God's sake, try harder to look happy. Don't ruin this for us." Mom didn't even realize how cruel she was.

Luckily, Dad stepped up to me and hugged me. I sank into him. He and I had always been closer, but recently my resentment had clouded our relationship. "You look beautiful."

"I don't think Damion agrees," I muttered. Dad pulled back, searching my face. His guilt and worry added another weight to my already heavy heart.

"I'm sure he appreciates your beauty," Dad said quietly.

I kissed Dad's cheek, and he reluctantly moved away to make room for Damion's parents. I'd never talked to them and had only seen them from afar at a couple of social functions. Mr. Mancini shared Damion's dark blue eyes, but his were clouded and his impressive size was diminished by the fact that he supported his weight on a cane. Damion's mother was elegant and beautiful with dark blond hair pulled up into a perfect chignon. Behind her, Damion's sisters waited, no less graceful and poised. That was how I was supposed to be. Damion didn't want me for myself. He wanted me to become someone he required. Accessories in his life.

I could hardly force food down my tight throat during dinner. Damion didn't talk to me, only to his father and Phoenix. I sat beside him like arm candy.

Maybe it was for the best. Every time he'd talked to me so far, he ordered me around and intimidated me only more. Considering that I'd have to share a bed with him tonight, I preferred his silence. The chances of me passing out were high anyway.

I slanted a look at Damion. His facial features were attractive in an edgy way. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and the dark stubble. I'd never seen him in less than a three-piece suit, but his muscles were unmistakable.

"My brother played football in high school," Samantha whispered, surprising me. I hadn't said much to her yet. We were strangers, despite being sisters-in-law, not to mention she was ten years older than me.

Heat rose into my cheeks, realizing she must have noticed me staring at Damion. I couldn't even imagine Damion going to high school.

"You finished this summer, right?" Samantha asked.

I nodded with a small smile. "Yes. I thought I'd go to college, but..."

"But you had to marry my brother."

"I would have had to marry either way, but as a wife of an Underboss, going to college is out of the question," I said quietly. My mother would have had a heart attack if she'd heard me being this honest with Damion's sister, but I was tired of trying to pretend.

"That's true. You'll be busy raising his kids, so you won't be bored."

My heart sped up like it always did thinking of being responsible for two tiny humans. I had absolutely no clue about kids. I'd read countless articles about raising kids in the last four months, but reading and doing were two very different things. Most of the time I felt like a girl, not a woman, much less a mother.

Samantha touched my hand. "You'll be fine. I live close by. I can help if you don't know what to do."

Damion must have heard because he frowned. "You have two small kids of your own with a third on the way. You'll have your hands full. Alejandra can handle everything."

He seemed to know me better than I did. Or maybe he'd just order me to be a good mother?

Samantha sighed, but she didn't talk back to him. My stomach knotted even more.

I was wound so tightly when it was time for the first dance, I hardly noticed Damion leading me to the center of the ballroom. The guests gathered around it, watching. My smile was in place. If I'd learned one thing from my mother, it was to smile in the face of adversity.

With our difference in height, dancing wasn't easy. If we'd been a real couple, I could have rested my cheek against his sternum. Right now we were casual acquaintances at best. Damion led me over the dance floor without a hitch, sure in his leadership like in every other aspect of our life. My mind was spinning a hundred miles an hour, imagining our future, imagining tonight.

"Why are you trembling?" Damion asked, startling me.

I regarded his emotionless eyes. Did he really not know? "Why don't you order me to stop?

Maybe my body obeys your command."

Damion's expression hardened. "I expect you to choose your words more carefully in public. I'm your husband and you'll respect me."

I lowered my eyes to his chest, the smile still frozen on my face.

Damion's mouth pressed to my ear as the dance ended. "Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

Damion's grip on me tightened, but he didn't get the chance to say more because it was Dad's turn to dance with me. He kept asking what was wrong, but I really didn't see any reason to tell him. There was nothing he could do, nothing he would do. Mom's lips were moving nonstop during her dance with my husband. From her delighted expression, you'd think she was the happy bride.

"It's my turn," Tarique said.

My smile became less stiff as my brother took over. He gave me a quick smile as we began to dance. I rarely saw him anymore since he'd moved out five years ago at eighteen. Unlike many sons from Underbosses, he'd chosen not to work under Dad in Baltimore until he inherited the title himself.

Tarique had wanted to make a name for himself and had gone to work under the Morettis. "It's so good to see you," I said, hugging him tighter.

He gave a terse nod. "It is."

"You don't look happy that I'll live in the same city as you soon."

Tarique shook his head. "Not at this price."

"You mean me being married to Damion?"

Tarique looked around, but Damion was dancing with one of his sisters a good distance away. "He's not the right man for you."

"Because he's too old."

Tarique let out a derisive laugh. "That's only a small part of why."

"Do you know what happened to Camila?" I hadn't seen my brother since I'd found out I'd marry Damion. Asking that kind of question over the phone was too dangerous. You never knew if the FBI was listening.

"Only Phoenix, Pollux, and Damion know." He hesitated.

"And?"

"The clean-up crew. Both of them died shortly after in a tragic car accident."

For a moment I was sure I hadn't heard him right. My vision was starting to tunnel. "Dad said Damion didn't have a hand in his wife's death."

Anger flashed across Tarique's face. "Dad needs Damion's support to stay in power. Dad's a weak boss. It's only a matter of time before others will try to have him removed. With Damion in the family, people will hesitate. If I already were in power, I wouldn't have given you to him. I would have controlled our men myself."

Power plays. It wasn't something I wanted to be part of, but without my own doing, I'd become the pawn in this deadly game.

"You've worked under Damion the last few years. Is he really that bad?"

Tarique's expression flickered with regret. "I shouldn't have said anything."

I dug my fingers into his arm. "Tell me, please. I need to prepare myself." Though, how could you prepare for that?

"He's effective and brutal. He doesn't tolerate disobedience. He's got his men under control. Few men in our circles are as well respected as him. He's the best Underboss that the Famiglia has at the moment." Tarique shook his head. "I should talk to him."

"No," I whispered, terrified. If what Tarique had said was true, Damion wouldn't allow my brother to get involved. Tarique was a brave man, and he'd be a good Underboss one day, but risking his life for me? I wouldn't allow it. "Promise, you won't say anything. Swear it."

"I want to help you."

"Then tell me what to do to make this marriage with him work."

He laughed mirthlessly. "How would I know?" Our dance ended, and he fell silent, his mouth twisting in disgust. "Obey him."

Despair weighed down on me. Four months ago, my main concern was what kind of Pilates course I'd do and if I'd find time to finish a painting. Today, I had to worry about how to please a husband, who might have killed his wife and probably the men who'd cleaned up the scene afterward.

After the dance with my brother, I wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner to get a grip, but Damion's father limped toward me.

I gave him a smile as my brother slinked away after a curt nod. Mr. Mancini held out his hand.

"Will you give this old man the honor of dancing with the bride?" "Of course, Mr. Mancini," I said with a small curtsy.

"Pollux, please. We're family now."

I nodded and took his hand, wondering how this was going to work with his cane. He smiled wistfully. "We'll have to dance in one spot if you're all right with that, young lady."

Again, I nodded and stepped a bit closer. He handed his cane to a man I didn't know and lightly touched my back. Then we began to sway to the music.

"You're very quiet. From what I hear, you're not a quiet girl."

My cheeks heated, wondering who had given him that piece of information. Tarique? Definitely not my mother.

Pollux's eyes were kind, but like his son, his reputation was chilling. "My son's reputation makes me proud," he began as if he could read my mind, which freaked me out. "I know he'll rule over Philadelphia without trouble, even once I'm gone. But it's a reputation that might unsettle a young woman, especially as young as yourself."

I wasn't sure what to say. I felt like I should contradict him because tradition dictated that I pretend I wasn't unsettled by my husband, but that would have been a lie, and unfortunately, I was a bad liar, much to Mom's chagrin.

"My wife and I raised my son to respect women, and from what I know, he does."

From what I knew, the bets on him killing his wife in a rampant rage were winning. He didn't appear like someone who would lose control like that, but he had earned his reputation as one of the cruelest leaders in our circles for a reason, and Tarique's words had only confirmed my fears.

"Thank you for telling me," I said, because I had to say something. I didn't feel consoled. The song ended and we stopped our swaying. Logan stood with his last dance partner to my left. I caught his eye, thinking as best man and Consigliere, he'd want a dance.

He shook his head with an apologetic smile. "If I ever tire of life, I'll ask for that dance." He turned and asked another woman.

Flabbergasted, I stared at Pollux.

He laughed. "Come on, let's head back to the table."

"What was that?" I asked as I followed his slow progress toward the table where Damion was still conversing with Phoenix as if this was a business meeting and not our wedding.

"My son is a bit territorial, I'm afraid. You can dance with family, but please refrain from approaching other men. I'd hate to witness a conflict at your wedding."

I waited for his laugh, something that indicated he was joking. He didn't. I stopped and so did he.

"I think I'll freshen up."

He nodded, but his expression showed he knew I wanted to run. With a small smile, I turned on my heel and hurried out of the ballroom.

I rushed past the restrooms and turned a corner into a deserted corridor where I leaned against the wall and slowly sank down. My dress bunched around me like a pure white bubble.

It wasn't dignified, and if someone found me, that would be a scandal for which Mom would never forgive me. I couldn't bring myself to care. This was my life.

I wasn't sure how long I sat like that, considering my few options, when steps echoed down the hall. With my dress, I didn't have the chance to stand up quickly, so I didn't bother.

Samantha turned the corner and upon spotting me, she headed my way with a look of concern. She surprised me when she sank down beside me in her elegant long dress and bulging belly.

"Damion is a difficult man, Alejandra. I won't lie."

I chuckled. Difficult I could deal with. It was the character traits beyond difficult that worried me.