A SIN FOR A SIN

You're trembling, darling. Are you cold, or just scared of the devil you promised to marry?" I took a deep breath. The voice came from behind me out of nowhere, smooth and clear like honey poured over a knife. Using the champagne glass made my fingers stop working. I thought I recognized that voice. It was as familiar to me as the scars on my knees, the taste of blood on my tongue, and the way my heart hurt after feeling it. I murmured "Angelo," almost turning my head. He came so near I could feel his breath on my cheek. Rory, miss me? Nine years have passed since I last saw him. Now, with eyes that saw everything, he was standing in the middle of my engagement dinner clothed in a black suit clinging to every harsh inch of him. Though my heart was racing, I turned to look at him and smiled. I believed you were dead. "Worse," he said. I was hiding. Watching. Waiting. His eyes darted to the table's head man—Don Silvano Visconti, my fiancé. Ancient, strong, and merciless. So now you're marrying him? I screamed, "To save my father." You believe I desire this? He grinned, slowly and dangerously. You are playing a game, in my opinion, one you do not grasp. You only brought me back in. I grew weak in the knees. You should not be here, I remarked. Still, I am here. Mob royalty filled the room—daughters of dons, consigliere sons, shadowy men with bloody histories. But the only one I dreaded was there in front of me. "You're going to ruin everything," I muttered. That's good, he said. Let's create a mess. The night came apart like a noose tightening around my neck. At the large wood table, Angelo sat opposite from me, smiling as though he knew every idea writhing in my mind. He certainly did. One time. Before all burnt. Don Silvano knocked on his wine glass. Let's toast. To my future spouse, family, and loyalty. All applauded. I grinned as though I meant it. Angelo lifted his glass but did not sip. Someone inquired, "How did you two meet?" Silvano smiled. Her father was in my debt. That is why I claimed his most prized possession. Joy. I stood still. Angelo's gaze fixed on me. Suddenly, in a strong, piercing voice, he remarked, "She's more than that." Silvano's expression changed. Pardon? Angelo bent forward. She is not a liability. She's silk clothed as fire. You don't trap fire without suffering burns. Quiet. I held my breath. Then the Don laughed, low and delighted. "Still theatrical, nephew." Angelo remarked, "Still correct." Needing air, I crept out onto the balcony after supper. But I was not by myself. He trailed me. What are you up to? I replied angrily. Seeing you lie, he remarked. You don't know me any longer. I am aware of your preferred sin. I gasped. He came nearer. I leaned on the railing. You believe I have not heard your confessions?, he remarked. Sweetheart, I created that hotline. Every secret you revealed... I heard. Not at all. You're not telling the truth. Am I? Like when you said you moved on? Or when you claimed to have moved on? I pushed him. He seized my wrist. Let me free. "Not ever," he hissed. Then he kissed me. Strongly. Intense. As if he wanted to kill me and save me in the same breath. I kissed him again. God help me, I kissed him again. When we at last separated, he said, "You're mine, Rory. You always were, Rory. And I didn't return to let him take you. I gazed into his eyes. Why did you return? His lips grazed my ear. To complete our beginning. And maybe... to burn this empire down." Out of nowhere, the balcony door sprang open. Silvano stood there. Watching. Without a grin. My stomach sank. "Everything all right here?" he said, quietly and dangerously. Face expressionless, Angelo retreated. Just catching up with relatives. I said nothing. I couldn't. Silvano looked at me. Rory Sure, I said. Just... air. He nodded gradually. Then return inside. You have to speak. Walking back in made my heart race. But the instant I stepped over the line, a scrap of paper touched my hand. Angelo had put it in my hand. I opened it out beneath the table... The Nightmare and the Note: Chapter Two Rory Carter's Perspective Come see me in the wine cellar. Twelve o'clock. Come by yourself. A I looked at the note. My heart raced more than it should have. I was not meant to desire this. I was meant to feel nothing but dread. But rather, heat crawled up my neck and nestled between my knees. He wanted me alone. I was leaving. Twelve o'clock. Cloaked in velvet shadows, the estate was peaceful. Slipping past the guards and along the corridor decorated with old oil paintings of deceased Viscontis, my shoes quietly clicked against the marble. Reaching the door to the wine cellar made me pause. This was not a good plan. Still, I opened it. The chilly air struck me right away. Heart pounding with each one, I carefully descended the stone steps. Shut the door after you. He was already speaking. Waiting. I obeyed. The cellar was dark; a lone vintage lamp provided the sole illumination. Though I wasn't here for wine, bottles lined the walls. I spun around. He was leaning against the far wall, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms inked, jaw tense. "You came." "You knew I would." Pushing off the wall, he closed the gap between us in three long steps. Rory, why are you truly marrying him? Don't tell me the debt tale. Tell me the truth. "I don’t have to explain myself to you." He grasped my chin. Indeed. You certainly do. I felt like screaming. I wanted to weep. I let the reality flow forth instead. He possesses my father. Locked up. He claimed that should I not follow it, they would throw his body into the bay. Angelo stood still. Silvano possesses your father? Indeed. He moved back, running a hand over his hair. You never informed anyone then? Who was I supposed to inform? The mafia hotline? Oh wait, it was you." His face grew somber. "I never injured you. I saved you. You vanished! To protect you. There was a crackling in the air between us. Then he was on top of me. Kissing me again, deeper this moment. Greedy. Eating. His hands gripped my waist like he intended to mark me, sliding down my sides. You are not his. Forget him then. He did that. Right there, on the frigid stone wall. We were not kind. We were not cautious. We were in a hurry. Clothes knotted. Breaths crashed. Moans reverberated off the walls. When it was finished, he embraced me closer than he ever had before. I said, "This doesn't solve anything." He said no. It simply alters everything. The following morning, I awoke to mayhem. The estate was mobbed by guards. Firearms. Yelling. Anxiety. Silvano was not present. The railing of the balcony had his blood on it. Then the final individual observed with him?