Page 59 of Bound in Vengeance
Fuck what Alessandro thinks about it.
The moment the silk and sheer lace catch the light, my sisters frown.
“Why do you have two wedding dresses?” Rosalia asks.
“And don’t you think that neckline is a little low for a conservative mafia wedding?” Eleonora adds, eyeing the dress skeptically.
“It’s perfect,” Daniela says immediately.
Rosalia rolls her eyes at her before turning back to me. “Come on, Sienna. We don’t have time for this. I can already hear the music from the garden. Let’s get you into your real dress.” She lifts the other gown hanging over her arm.
I just smile and shake my head.
I smooth a hand over the silk and glance at my reflection. “I went back for this because I like this one better."
Camilla shifts on the lounge, looking between the two dresses. "Guys, it's not that bad. I think we should let her wear what she wants."
I ignore them all, walking past the noise to stand right in front of the full-length mirror. I hold the gown up against my body, watching the way the lace frames my collarbones and the silk hugs my hips.
"This is what I want to wear," I say, my reflection staring back at me with a cold certainty. "It’s my choice. Alessandro picked out the other one. I’m not wearing that.”
"Sienna, listen to reason," Eleonora pleads, her voice losing its harsh edge and giving way to genuine panic. She comes up behind me, placing two heavy hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at her in the glass. "Choice is a luxury you don’t have today. Papa is out there right now waiting for you. If you cause any trouble, you are humiliating him in front of every family on the East Coast. He will make you pay for that humiliation before the reception is even over."
"She's right," Rosalia chimes in, gripping the modest satin dress tighter against her chest like a shield. "If Alessandro wants you to wear this, just wear it. A marriage like this is about survival, Sienna. You don't poke the bear. Please."
I turn to then, my expression resolute. “I’m going to say a big fuck you to both papa and Alessandro today," I say, my voice cutting through their protests. "I don’t care what happens. If they want to stop the wedding because of this, then they can be my guests.”
Before they can utter another word of warning, I step into the dress.
As the delicate fabric slides up my thighs and hugs my waist, a heavy wave of conflicting emotions hits me, making my hands shake. Letting my emotions get the best of me, I blurt, “I’m so confused by everything.”
Rosalia is beside me now, completely forgetting about her issue with the dress. She pulls me into her arms, holding me tight. Sensing the crack in my armor, my other sisters instantly closethe distance, surrounding me in a tight, protective circle of warmth.
"What's wrong?" Daniela asks softly, her usual playful tone completely gone. "Tell us."
Battling the hot tears threatening to spill over my lashes, I look at their worried faces. "I am confused by everything happening with Alessandro," I confess, my voice cracking. "And the way my body reacts to him. I hate it. I hate how much power he has over me without even trying. I feel like I’m walking into a lion’s den.”
Eleonora steps in closer, her practical nature taking over even in the middle of my breakdown. "First, don’t cry. Don’t spoil your look. Your makeup took an hour."
I nod, sniffing back the tears, and gratefully take the tissue Camilla presses into my hand, gently dabbing at the corners of my eyes so nothing smudges.
Eleonora reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my arm. "It’s okay to be attracted to your husband, Sienna. It doesn’t change anything about who you are. It doesn't make you weak. Does he feel the same way?"
I swallow hard, looking down at the lace of my bodice before meeting her gaze again. I nod. "He’s attracted to me too. We’ve... we’ve had sex."
A quiet understanding passes between them. None of them look shocked or judgmental; they just nod.
"It's okay," Rosalia says gently, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It really is."
She looks at me, her expression softening into something deeply earnest. "Stop trying to control every feeling. Just feel. You don't have to fight your own body while you're fighting everything else. Take things slow. It’ll be okay."
Before I can process her words, a sharp, heavy knock echoes against the wood of the bedroom door.
"Two minutes, ladies," a guard's voice calls out from the hallway. "It’s time."
The warmth evaporates. A collective, heavy sigh ripples through my sisters. Rosalia drops the modest dress onto the bed with a defeated look, while Daniela and Camilla exchange anxious glances.
The clock has run out. War or peace, it's time to walk.
