Vows Written in Blood

Chapter 3: Lovers past

I sat for most of the afternoon at the vanity mirror in my new room, while a woman named Maria, who didn’t speak a word of English, fussed with my hair and attempted to paint my face as if I were a mafia wife.

I felt like a doll getting ready for display, especially since the gown they had reserved for me was a luscious emerald silk that probably cost more than my college tuition, but I said nothing and let her work because I knew arguing with the staff would do me no favors. Once she was finished, I took a long look at myself and I barely recognized the woman looking back, because I looked polished and expensive and completely trapped, which I suppose was exactly the point Luca was trying to make.

I went down at about eight and followed through a crowd of strangers, none of whom I could tell a thing about, all of them in black or dark gray and speaking in muted, earnest tones that sank still further the moment I stepped inside. Luca was just outside in the pool house by the fire with a scotch in hand looking perfectly at ease in a tailored tuxedo talking to a group of elder gentlemen who looked as if they wouldn’t have smiled in two decades. He spotted me, waved me over, so I inhaled and brushed up the silk of my skirt while I navigated the crowd of strangers who were all watching me like I was a museum exhibit.

Luca smiled as I joined him and said, “Everyone, this is Elara, my wife,” and he placed a hand on the small of my back that felt heavy and possessive, but his face remained as blank as a stone wall. The men gave me nods with varying levels of politeness, but I was still in the air before I got the chance to say hi, when the double doors flung open and a woman entered like she was queen of the universe, wearing a red dress that popped against all of the dark suits in the room like a blot of blood.

“I hope I’m not too late to join in the fun, because it would be so sad to miss seeing the new De Rossi bride after all these rumors,” the lady said, going straight up to Luca and kissing him on both cheeks with a closeness that made me sick to my stomach. She was Sofia Romano and I had never met her but I could tell by the way the atmosphere in the room had changed that she was an issue I was completely unprepared for. ​

“Sofia, I didn’t know that you were in Sicily with the last I heard you were down for the season in Milan,” Luca said softly, and I felt his grip tighten ever so slightly on my waist, the only indication that her arrival had unsettled him, the rest of his face was calm. Sofia chuckled and then cast her eyes upon me. She looked me up and down with a pure air of superiority as she plucked a glass of champagne off a waiter's tray nearby.

​“I had to come, Luca." Sofia whispered, and then she bent closer to me so that I could smell her dense floral perfume.

“You must be either quite bold or quite desperate, Elara, for Luca is not one to hold on to things once they cease to be new, and believe me when I say that they cease to be new much sooner than you would expect.”

​"I'll be fine Sofia, I'm familiar with all these people who think they're more important than they actually are, so you can save your advice," I said, making sure my voice carried far enough for the crowd to hear; I wasn't going to let her intimidate me around my new "family. Sofia’s eyes sparkled angrily for a brief moment, but she quickly covered it with a fake smile and I turned my attention back to Luca, as if I had already vanished from the discussion.

"Do you remember that night at the gala Rome, Luca, when you told me that you'd never marry anyone who didn't understand the burden of your crown?" Sofia asked, her hand lightly touching his arm in a manner that was obviously intended to set her territory. Luca did not move away, but he also did not lean in on her, he merely looked at her with a bored expression that I hoped was real and not part of the act he put on for everyone else.

“The past is dead weight, Sofia, and in the present I’m more focused on the future of the De Rossi shipping interests,” Luca said, and at last he removed his hand from my back to indicate that dinner was beginning.

We all took our seats at a long mahogany table layered in silver and crystal, and I was made to sit at the head of the table next to Luca, while Sofia somehow barged her way into grab a seat right me in front of me so she could gawp at me for the next hour.

The meal was multiple course long, and all the foods were unrecognizable to me, but I ate very little since Sofia just wouldn’t stop frowning and muttering tiny remarks about how different everything was now that she was the one sitting in my seat. There was talk of private dinners in Tuscany and secrets only she and Luca shared, all of which was clearly designed to make me feel like an interloper who had stumbled into a place I didn’t belong.

So I sat there and drank my wine and waited for my chance to snap back because I knew getting riled up was what she wanted.

“Did your father really sell you, Elara, to clear a debt? Because I just don’t see a woman in today’s day and age agreeing to that unless she was really looking for a shortcut to a bank account,” Sofia said in between bites as I noticed the whole table fall silent, everyone waiting to gauge my response to such a direct, cutting insult.

I put my fork down and looked her in the eye, and I felt an odd rush of adrenaline, because I was so done being the victim in everybody’s narrative.

“My father made a bad business decision, and I’m here to make sure the transition is smooth, which is more than you can say for someone who comes uninvited to a dinner as her ex-bf,” I said, and somewhere down the table I heard a stifled snort of laughter, which I suspected came from Marco. Sofia’s cheeks flushed bright red and she looked like she was going to spray her wine in my face but Luca chose that moment to rise and extend his hand to me. The band is beginning down in the ballroom, and I have a feeling I owe my wife the first dance,” Luca’s voice brooked no dissent as he had already pulled me up from my chair and was leading me from the table before Sofia could say another word. We entered the ballroom as a small orchestra was playing a slow, haunting melody, and he drew me into his arms so quickly it took my breath away.

He was an excellent dancer, with a violence that belied the grace of his movements, and for several minutes we simply circled the floor wordlessly as the other guests looked on, from the sidelines.

“You didn’t need to do that, I was more than capable of managing her,” I breathed, though I made no move to pull away and wished to be as close to him as possible — he was the only thing I found grounding me in a room full of people who wanted me dead.

“I wasn’t doing it for you, I was doing it because she was causing a scene and it is damaging for the family reputation to have the women fighting like children over a dinner plate,” Luca said, but he pulled me a bit closer than was strictly necessary for the dance. I glanced up at him and saw a flicker of tension in his jaw and I understood that for all he said about contracts and ledgers etc, he was more affected by me than he pretended to be. Nothing felt quite so much like life.

​“You’re a liar, Luca, because you liked that I stood up to her, and you’re realizing that I’m the only person in this house who’s not scared of you,” I told him and he leaned down so his lips were grazing my ear as the music swelled.

​"Don't confuse my curiosity for affection, Elara, because you’re still just a guest in my house until the debt is paid, no matter how well you dance,"