Vicious Promise by M. James
Sofia
I’m woken up by Ana’s hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake as the sunlight streams in from the curtains she must have opened, sprawled on the side of my bed. “Wake up, sleepy,” she says with a grin. “It’s your wedding day.”
“Those aren’t really the words I wanted to wake up to,” I groan, rubbing a hand over my face.
“I know.” Ana pushes my hair out of my face, looking down at me sympathetically. “But at least I’ll be here for part of it. I picked up your dress on the way over.”
I can see it hanging on the closet door, wrapped in the cheerful pink and white garment bag from the bridal shop. I push myself up to a sitting position, feeling tired and sore from being tense all night. Glancing over at Ana, I wonder what she would say if I told her what had happened last night between Luca and I. There’s no way I ever could—I can feel myself flushing red just thinking about it. But after so long of hearing about her sexual exploits and her teasing me about my lack thereof, I can’t help but wonder what her reaction would be.
Before she can see that I’m blushing, I get out of bed and quickly walk over to the dresser. But when I open the top drawer, I see that instead of the mostly plain cotton and few pairs of silky underwear that I’d picked out during my shopping spree, the drawer is also full of all the lingerie I’d skipped over, satin and silk in lace in white and pink and blue and red and black, frothing over the edge of the drawer as I open it. There’s got to be thousands of dollars of it just in this one small spot.
“Sofia? What’s wrong?” Ana asks, seeing me tense, but I don’t respond, striding across the room to the closet. When I yank open the door, sure enough, there’s new velvet hangers there with silk and lace robes and matching silk babydoll nightgowns. I stare at them, unsure whether to scream or cry or rip them off the hangers and throw them down the stairs so Luca can trip over them.
I hear her footsteps as she walks over to me. “Oh,” she says softly, seeing the lingerie in the closet and the rest of it spilling out of the drawer. “You didn’t pick this stuff out, did you.” It’s not a question, Ana knows my underwear choices very well. She’s seen me get dressed often enough.
“No,” I say flatly. “And it wasn’t here before I came back last night.”
“Luca told me he wanted your things brought over,” Ana says quietly. “I thought it was strangely—nice of him. But he must have added all of this too.” She pauses. “Are you—going to sleep with him tonight?”
“I made him promise we wouldn’t,” I whisper. “That it would just be a marriage of convenience, not real in that sense—” I look at the silky white nightgown in front of me, short enough to graze the tops of my thighs, edged in eyelash lace with lace cutouts at the waist. It’s beautiful and fragile and expensive, the kind of thing any bride would dream of wearing on her wedding night.
When I turn around, Ana is looking at me disbelievingly. “And he agreed to that?”
“Originally, yes, but—”
“Sofia.” Her face is very serious. “If you don’t sleep with him, your marriage can be annulled. You know that, right? If he changes his mind about keeping you safe, if Rossi pressures him after the fact, he could make your marriage disappear just by admitting to that. Hell, if the Bratva got their hands on you again, you’re more valuable if you’re still untouched—” She looks slightly pale. “Sof, just sleep with him once. You’ll be so much safer.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, shutting the closet door so that I won’t have to see the dress. “I just can’t.”
“Do you not find him attractive?” Ana cocks her head sideways. “Do you not want him like that?”
“I—” The memory of last night sears its way into my brain again, the memory of his fingers intruding where no one else’s ever have, the way he stroked me until I was trembling, shaking, desperate for more. The feeling of him trapped between my thighs, making it so easy to imagine the way he might feel sliding inside of me. He was so hard, so thick—almost frighteningly so, but it had turned me on, too.
“You’re blushing.” Ana narrows her eyes. “Because you do want him, or because something happened?”
She knows me too well. “Something happened,” I mumble. “Last night.”
“Oh my god.” She grabs my elbow, steering me towards the bed. “What?”
“I wandered off from the rehearsal dinner, and he was angry when he found me. He thought I was leaving. He said I embarrassed him—so I guess maybe he wanted to humiliate me, too? He brought me back here and kissed me—”
“And?” Ana prods. “You can tell me, Sof, I’ve told you so many things I’ve done. I’m not going to be shocked.”
She’s right, of course—she’s shared the dirty details of so many of her hookups gleefully, right down to their dick size—or lack thereof—and the weird things they did or wanted to do in bed. But I never have before.
“He bent me over the couch and touched me—” I wave a hand vaguely below my waist.
“Did he make you come?” Ana stares at me. “You’ve really never done more than kiss before, have you?”
I’m blushing furiously now. “No,” I whisper. “And no. He got me close—and then he stopped. He wouldn’t let me.”
“What a dick,” Ana mutters. “But that’s a hell of a way to get his point across, I guess. What else?”
“He—” I can’t even form the words. “He finished, on my—on me.”
“Oh shit.” Ana covers her mouth with her hand. “I mean—normally I would think that’s kind of hot, but without asking, I guess—no, I’d still think it’s kind of hot. But for you—”
“I was just embarrassed,” I whisper. “Maybe it would have been different if he’d stayed afterwards, if he’d made me…come…too, or acted like he cared at all. But he just walked off. Left me there bent over the couch with my dress up and left as soon as he’d finished. Like a used sex toy or something.”
Both of us are very quiet for a long moment. Ana looks at me sympathetically. “I don’t think he knows how to do anything else with a woman, honestly. From what I’ve heard about him, he’s been fucking and discarding women all over Manhattan since he was old enough to get boners.”
“So you see why I don’t want to sleep with him,” I say dryly.
“Don’t want to? Or won’t?”
That really is the question, isn’t it?“Won’t,” I finally admit. “Of course I think he’s gorgeous, Ana. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen up close. And he knows what he’s doing when it comes to—” I bite my lip, trying to push the memory of last night out of my head.
“So why?”
“It’s the only thing I can keep,” I whisper. “I can’t finish my education. My plans for my life are gone. I live here now—soon I’ll live in an apartment he chooses for me. I have to marry him, obey him, act like I’m happy to be his wife in public—all so that I can live. So I don’t have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. The only thing I can control is whether or not I sleep with him tonight.”
Ana chews on her lip for a moment, looking over at me. “That makes sense,” she says finally. “I’m sorry, Sofia. If I could think of any way for you to get out of this—”
“I know.”
“Just be careful.” She leans over, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. “Be smart. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you.”
I hug her back, clinging to her for as long as I can. She smells like her sweet vanilla perfume, and I’m taken back briefly to afternoons spent in her room while she got dressed for a date, or snuggling together on the couch watching a movie, or hanging out in the kitchen together trying to bake something new. An entire life, a friendship, pulled away from me in an instant. Luca might let her visit me still, or go out under heavy security, but it’ll never be the same.
“Come on,” Ana says, and I can see that her eyes are as misty as mine are. “Let’s get you dressed.”
* * *
An hour later,my hair is curled and pinned back and my makeup is applied, soft and rosy so that I look like I’m glowing. Ana zips up my dress and does every single one of the buttons down the back, and then slides a small gold and diamond comb into my hair, attaching the veil to it. “This was my grandmother’s,” she says. “You can give it back to me later, but for now it can be your something borrowed.”
The jewelry. That reminds me of Luca’s gift. “Thank you,” I tell her, turning gingerly in my high heels to hug her again. “My something blue is in those boxes.”
Ana’s mouth drops open when she flips up the lid on the smaller one. “Oh my god—these are gorgeous.”
“They were Luca’s mother’s,” I say softly. “He left them and the bracelet that matches last night.”
Ana looks as confused as I felt. “I don’t understand him,” she says, shaking her head.
“I don’t either.” I turn to face the mirror, pushing a stray curl out of my face. “But I’m marrying him today.”
By the time we’re done, I’m the vision of a perfect bride. The dress fits flawlessly, my hair and makeup are perfect, the diamonds and jewels at my ears and wrist and finger sparkle in the light, and the veil floats out behind me like a soft cloud of tulle.
I reach up, touching the cross at my throat, the only piece of jewelry I’m wearing that looks slightly out of place—although I couldn’t care less. “I wish my mother were here,” I say quietly. “And at the same time, I’m glad she’s not, so that she doesn’t have to know this is happening.”
“I’m so sorry, Sofia.” Ana looks as if she’s struggling to hold back tears. “I wish this could be a happy day for you.”
“I’m just glad you’ll be there at the ceremony.” I take a deep breath, looking in the mirror one final time. “Alright. Let’s go.”
I’m glad that I don’t have to worry about seeing Luca as we leave. The limo driver is waiting for us at the elevator, and the limo is in the parking garage, gleaming and black under the lights. Ana doesn’t bother getting out the champagne once we slide inside—neither of us feel like celebrating. Instead I watch the traffic slide past as we drive to St. Patrick’s, thinking about how I’m going to get through the next hour, the reception after that—and tonight. We’re staying at the Plaza Hotel tonight, along with the rest of the major wedding guests, and Luca informed me the day I signed the contract that we would have to spend the night in the same room, regardless of my conditions.
Even if he sticks to his promise not to touch me, I still have to spend an entire night with him. There’s no way out of that. It would bring up too many questions for me to have my own room, even if we spent enough time together in his to fake a consummation. I know there’s no chance of escaping that part of the night.
The sky is grey and cloudy as we step out of the limo, the cathedral looming over Ana and I as we walk up the steps. Caterina is waiting for us in the vestibule, wearing a deep blue lace gown and holding a bouquet of white roses and baby’s breath. She hands me a larger bouquet, looking at Ana nervously. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I’m supposed to stand up with her as her bridesmaid. It should be you, but—”
“Can’t have the Russian girl standing up in front of a cathedral full of Italian mafia,” Ana says dryly. “I get it.” She leans over, pecking me on the cheek before drawing the veil over my face. “You can do this, Sof,” she says gently. “You’re stronger than even you know.”
“Only because of you.” I squeeze her hand. “I’ll try to catch you before we leave the church. And I’ll see you soon, I promise. I won’t let Luca keep us apart.”
“I hope not.” Ana gives me a sad smile before slipping into the church to find her seat, avoiding Caterina’s eyes the entire time.
Caterina bites her lip. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay.” I take a deep breath, forcing a smile as I clutch the bouquet. “It’s not your fault.”
“I—”
Whatever Caterina was about to say is interrupted by Franco stepping through the doors. He whistles as he sees me. “I’ll never understand why Luca has such a long face right now,” he says with a laugh, reaching for Caterina’s arm. “Come on, love. I’ll escort you up.”
Caterina gives me a last tight smile as the wedding march begins, drowning out anything that either of us might say.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I wait for it to be my turn, my stomach twisting in knots. Don’t trip, I think wildly as I wait at the doors. Don’t cry.
Don’t be afraid.
I can see Luca when I start to walk down the aisle, carefully timing my steps to the music. I’m glad for that, it gives me something to concentrate on, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He looks more handsome than ever, tall and lean in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, but his face is hard as stone. I can’t see any emotion there when I finally come to stand at the end of the aisle, hoping that my bouquet hides the trembling in my hands.
Father Donahue clears his throat as the music dies away. “Who gives this bride to be married?”
The words stick in my throat. For a moment I think that I won’t be able to speak, and my gaze flicks to Luca under my veil, wondering what he’s thinking. I remember his words from the night before. One phone call, and you would be dead.
“I do.” I manage to say the words aloud, firmly, not in the whisper that I was afraid they would come out as. I think I see a flicker of admiration in Luca’s eyes as I step up to stand in front of him, but I can’t be sure.
The Mass goes on for what feels like forever, the communion, the prayers, the Scripture, the words. I focus on the motions of it, remembering the kneeling and standing, when to face Luca and when to face Father Donahue, just to get me through. The less I think about what’s really happening, the better.
As Father Donahue begins to say the vows, I can barely focus on the words. Luca’s broad smooth hands grasp mine, holding me there, although not as tightly as I’d expected. I hear him repeat love, cherish, honor, and it’s all I can do not to laugh. He plans to do none of those things, and I can’t help but wonder why it’s my virginity that could make our marriage null, when every word that Luca is saying in this supposedly holy moment is a lie.
When it’s my turn, I can feel my pulse rising into my throat, threatening to choke me. “I, Sofia Natalia Ferretti, take you, Luca Antonio Romano, to be my husband.” The words come out calmly, evenly, and I don’t know how I’m even managing to say them aloud, let alone as if everything is fine. As if I want to be here, saying these vows. “I promise to be faithful to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, to love and honor—”
I pause. Obey. I can’t bring myself to say it. I don’t want to obey him. I don’t want to belong to him—but last night I did. Last night my body arched towards him like a flower seeking the sun. That was lust, not love, I think. Not obedience.
Luca’s hands tighten around mine warningly. I can see the look in his eyes through the haze of the veil, telling me that I’m on thin ice right now. That I should choose my next words carefully.
Behind me, someone clears their throat. Don Rossi? A wave of cold fear washes over me, and I choke out the words, tripping over them in my haste. “—to love and honor and obey you, all the days of my life.”
Luca’s grip loosens, and as I look up at him, I see something like relief on his face. Is he really that glad that I’m going through with it? I wonder numbly. Does he really want me to live that badly?Why?
The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur. I barely register Luca sliding my wedding band onto my finger, barely make it through my own remaining vows as I clumsily slide his gold band onto his. Before I know it, I hear Father Donahue telling Luca that he can kiss the bride, and as Luca reaches for the edge of my veil, I feel faint.
His hand brushes against the side of my face as he pushes the tulle over my head, sending it cascading over my hair, and then his palm is pressed against my cheek as he tilts my face upwards, his lips brushing over mine in a sweet, almost chaste kiss.
I can feel tears burning the backs of my eyelids. This is what it would be like if this were real. If he loved me. If I loved him. The kiss is gentle, the way you kiss someone you love, and my heart aches painfully as I savor it for just a second, knowing that it might be the only time for the rest of my life that anyone kisses me that way.
It’s a lie, but I let myself take a second’s pleasure in it, just the same.
And then we’re turning, facing the clapping audience in their pews, and I hear Father Donahue’s voice behind us.
“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Luca Romano!”
It’s done. The vows are said, the marriage is witnessed.
I’m Luca’s wife.
For as long as we both shall live.
