Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

42

Aria

“Just breathe, dear,” Marylin says with a kind smile.

“Okay, I’m breathing.” I pull in a deep breath to humor her and pretend it helped.

It didn’t even take the edge off.

“One more time and think happy thoughts.”

I give her a smile I don’t feel. Any happy thoughts I could muster up are suffocated under the weight of my nerves from who I’ll be seeing in a matter of minutes. Everyone is here and waiting.

They are waiting for me.

I’m getting married in ten minutes.

That’s what the clock on the wall tells me.

It’s a quarter to two, and the big day is today. The time is right now.

I’m in my beautiful wedding dress, standing behind the chestnut-colored doors of the church, waiting for the ushers to open it and let me in so I can take that walk down the aisle to say my vows to Lucca and him to me.

In the end, we’ll be husband and wife, and everything in the world as I know it will change.

The only thing about today that I expected to feel was weird, and I do.

I left my mind open for the possibility of all eventualities.

The stylist was the first person to arrive this morning and thus began the day.

Now I’m here, and I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, like one of those films where ghosts float around and watch themselves.

I’m nervous and scared, conflicted and confused.

I’m not ready, but then again, how could I be ready? Who would have been ready for the ride life took me on over the last few weeks?

All I’ve been able to do is hold on tight to whatever inner strength I could muster to brace myself and keep going.

The usher to my left nods, and Marylin nod back.

“It’s time, Aria,” she says, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be out here and won’t take my seat until you get to Lucca.”

“Okay.”

The door opens, and the music—traditional wedding music— starts playing. It’s on the organ and quite moving.

I’m supposed to walk now, so I do.

I take those steps down the aisle, and the thing I thought I would fear about this day is not what I’m scared of.

I was terrified of signing my life away to a man I hardly knew. I planned to focus on my family. Focus on Dad.

That was before I knew who he really was.

Now I can barely look at him standing at the pew at the front. He’s dressed in one of his finest suits with a grim expression on his face that would be more fitting to a funeral.

His gaze clings to mine, but I look away. It’s painful to look at him and know everything I thought he was, was a damn lie. It’s even worse to look at him and accept that I’ve suffered in my life because of him.

What I do wonder, though, is how Mom put up with him. It’s probably a good thing she’s not here to learn the truths I’ve learned about him.

But maybe she knew. I don’t know, and I’m not sure if I ever knew.

When I catch a glimpse of Pasha out of the corner of my eye, my stomach flips over then knots. So, what I do is focus on that one sure thing I have in this world right now –the avenging angel standing at the altar waiting for me.

Lucca.

I focus on him and only him, even though I acknowledge my three aunts and their husbands, who are sitting with Sienna and her two younger brothers, Pedro and Gio. They smile at me but look worried, as they should be. Along with Dad, those are my guests.

I continue walking, but God in heaven, it’s like all essence drains from me when I get to Pasha, and my steps slow.

The sudden weakness makes me feel like I’m walking in quicksand, trying to get out. At the same time, there’s an energy that lures me to look my attacker in the eye.

It’s like the little girl inside me who had no one to save her from this monster wants to run away, but the woman I am now wants to fight—fight for her.

So I do look. I do for one stolen moment and find him staring back at me too.

In his ice-blue eyes, I see some element of recognition. Like he knows I remember, and just for that split second, the monster comes back. No longer is he the person he pretended to be at his father’s party, and there’s a dark energy emanating from him that warns me to watch myself.

Watch and be careful because I’m not strong enough to do anything yet.

Not just yet, but I promise myself and the younger version of me that it will be soon.

So I look away and keep walking to my groom, who I didn’t realize until then was looking at Pasha too, unknown to him.

Lucca switches his gaze to me as I get closer, and I find I can’t get to him quickly enough. So I walk faster, just fast enough, so it doesn’t draw too much attention and give me away.

What does give me away to my other enemies, though, is when I reach for Lucca, and he takes both my hands. That’s when I feel Damien’s eyes on me. On us.

He doesn’t want us to be close because he hates me.

Lucca leans in close to my ear and gives my hands a gentle squeeze.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yes. I’m okay.

“We’ll get out of here as soon as you’re mine,” he promises, and all I can do is look at him as he moves back.

One look at the priest, and the ceremony begins.

I go into that autopilot mode again, but my mind comes back to me when it’s time to say my vows.

I pull in a breath to clear my head and stare back at Lucca, taking in the focused way he’s looking at me.

“I, Aria De Marchi, take you, Lucca, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.” I did it. I said my vows.

“I, Lucca, take you, Aria De Marchi, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life,” Lucca answers with his vows, and I wonder if he could love me.

He told me not to waste my heart on merciless devils who kill. He said they couldn’t love. But what is that I see in his eyes?

And what is this I feel? It’s the same thing I felt the other day when I realized it was fruitless fighting against deep-rooted emotions that had set in me from the first time I saw him.

Jon cuts into my thoughts when he steps forward with our rings.

Lucca and I exchange rings, and the priest takes control again.

“You have declared your love before the Church,” the priest says. “May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your love and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide. With this, I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

We’re married. It actually happened.

Lucca kisses me briefly then takes my hand.

We walk together back down the aisle, and as we reach Marylin, Lucca nods to her, and she dips her head.

I thought we’d have to wait to acknowledge everybody and thank them for coming, but we don’t.

We keep walking right out into the parking lot to a sleek black Jaguar convertible.

It’s breathtaking to look at.

“Is that your car?” I rasp.

“Yeah.”

“How many vehicles do you have?”

“Just the right amount.” He winks at me and opens the door for me to get in.

I do and sit on the plush leather.

He gets in, too, loosens his tie, then takes it off, tossing it in the back. His suit jacket comes off next, and he rolls his sleeves up his thick forearms revealing his inky black tattoos.

The transformation takes him from elegant to ruggedly handsome, right back to being the Lucca I know.

With a shake of his dark locks, he guns the engine, and we drive. We leave, and I swear I see Damien by the church door, watching us as we drive away.

The tension fades from my body almost immediately, but my curiosity piques when we drive in the opposite direction to the house.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “You had this whole day planned.”

“Marylin will take care of the guests while we go on our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” I’m not sure what surprises me more—the hope in my voice or the mention of honeymoon.

“Didn’t we just get married?”

“We did.”

“We can have today. One day. One break. So I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Neverland.” He chuckles and winks.

I find myself smiling. I look away, but he reaches out quickly and guides my face back to him.

“Don’t hide your smiles from me, wife. You’re prettier when you smile.”

“Thank you.” And thank you for taking me away from the people who hurt me the most.

* * *

One hour later, we arrive at a little beach house. It reminds me of a drawing in a fairytale.

An elderly man greets us at the door and shows us into the quaint home before he leaves.

I look around and strangely feel more at home than I’ve felt in a very long time.

My attention is drawn to a painting on the living room wall, and I make my way in there.

It’s a family painting. The painting has his father, mother holding a baby, and a little girl.

“My grandfather painted that when we still lived in Russia,” Lucca says, coming up behind me. “That’s me in my mother’s arms, and that’s my eldest sister. My youngest sister and brother were born here in the States.”

I return my focus to him and smile when I see he’s smiling.

“Your grandfather was an artist?”

“Yes. He painted and collected. My family was a servant family, but they were all creative. That’s how they got by when they didn’t have work. They were either artists or musicians or both. Most of the paintings on the walls of the manor are my grandfather’s collections. This one and others here are the only ones of my family he was able to do.”

“You look a lot like your father.”

“Yes. I do.”

“What is this house?” I’m curious.

“The first home I had when we fled Russia. My extended family was all killed.”

The smile falls from my face. “My God. They all died?”

“Yes. Monsters aren’t those creatures who hide away in the dark. They are the people who stare you in the face and steal your soul as you look at them. The entire family was killed by people they knew out of revenge. There comes a point where evil takes the place of wanting to get retribution.”

More death. How can he stand there so strong with so much death in his life taking away people in such a vicious way?

It then occurs to me what he really said. His extended family was killed, and I know his immediate family was killed.

“So you’re… the only one left?”

“I am. That’s why I try to keep the memories alive with my mother’s roses and my father’s birds. The manor we live in belonged to the man my father worked for a year after we moved here. My father inherited it when he died and bought this place. I come here a couple of times a year. I thought it would be nice to come here today. To get away; I know you needed the break.”

I walk back to him, reach out and touch his face. His handsome, handsome face, and we move to each other to kiss.

It’s a sweet kiss, too tender from the hungry ones we’ve shared, but in it, I feel like I’m home.

When he cups my face, I savor his touch.

“We are family now, Aria. You and me. You hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me to be your husband. Can you do that?”

“I can.” I genuinely mean that.

We move to each other again and fall into a kiss that speaks of forever.

Love and happiness forever.

I find myself wishing for those things when he picks me up and carries me upstairs to bed.

We make love. Those are the words I would use to describe what we do for the rest of the day and night, and I fall into a state of bliss where I wish for forever with this man.

Reality isn’t far from my mind, though, telling me I can’t have any of those things. All are out of my reach in the uncertain, dangerous world I live in.

Today was the beginning of everything changing, including me. This was supposed to be business.

I was never supposed to fall for my husband.

But I did.