“I’m sorry to hear it isn’t a marriage of love.”

She leaned toward the mirror, applying a fresh coat of cherry-red lipstick. “Don’t be. It was my choice.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” popped from her lips as she pressed them together to spread the lipstick evenly. “I married Antonio when I was twenty. He died three years later. After I got into a little trouble with the law, Nico gave me a choice to go home to Chicago or marry again.”

She held out her lipstick to me and I had a refusal on my tongue, but . . . why the hell not? Elena Abelli never wore anything so bold, but I was Elena Russo now. I took it from her and began applying a liberal coat.

“So, you chose to marry?”

“Yes.” She grabbed my left hand to look at my ring in the light. “That was a no-brainer.”

Apparently, her home life wasn’t that great.

“You’re going to think I’m horrible, but I chose the oldest candidate available for obvious reasons.”

“I don’t think you’re horrible at all.” It was the truth. I wouldn’t have the courage to marry a man three times my age. I couldn’t even imagine the wedding night without my skin crawling. “Nico won’t make you marry again?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed, and she dropped my hand. “No.”

Well, well, there was some passion beneath the bubbly persona.

I handed her the lipstick and pressed my lips together while observing my new look in the mirror.

My eyes had a haze over them, the alcohol seeping through my bloodstream and lightening my tongue. “He promised me fidelity,” I announced, the words rolling off drunken lips. I had no idea why I’d shared it, but there was something liberating about opening up to another woman in a bathroom.

This was what girls did, and it was the first time I was a part of it.

Her dark eyes filled with sympathy. “You poor thing, you. Looks like you’re stuck with him for good. Ace might be a cheat at heart, but he always does exactly what he says he’s going to do.”

“How old is your cousin again?” Gianna’s voice was loud enough it echoed across the street.

Dominic flicked a glance to us, and I honest to God giggled. “He’s too young for you. You’re like . . . ten years older than him.”

Gianna frowned, leaning against the brick wall for balance. “He’s eighteen? He doesn’t look eighteen.”

“No, twenty.” I zigzagged over to her, and when I managed to bump into her shoulder, I stayed there.

“He’s hot.”

Dominic stood at the curb, pretending to be texting and not listening to our conversation.

“Eh, he’s okay,” I said.

His lips tipped up.

Benito had picked up Mamma and the others a couple minutes ago, but Dominic stayed to wait for my husband to get me. Nico had texted me three times tonight and I managed to reply each and every time. I deserved a medal. Are you having fun? Yes. Are you ready to go? No. How drunk are you? Somuch.

A couple of minutes later, when I noticed Nico get out of his car on the street, my drunk heartbeat skipped with satisfaction. Though I stayed exactly where I stood—or leaned—because these three-inch heels didn’t pair well with more than three drinks. And I’d lost count since that number.

Nico’s eyes narrowed slightly when he saw Gianna and me, leaning against the wall and each other as if we offered a little better support than just the brick.

He stopped in front of us with his hands in his pockets. “You’re drunk as shit.”

I nodded slowly.

Amusement ghosted through his eyes as he ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Can you walk?”

I nodded again but didn’t move. If I did I thought Gianna might fall over.

His gaze coasted to her, before he turned and spoke to Dominic for a moment. My cousin slipped his phone in his pocket and gave Nico eye contact. What did I need to do to get that kind of attention from him? I stared at my husband while he talked to Dominic. He was so handsome something touched me in the chest.

“Come on.” Nico grabbed my hand. “Let’s go home.”

“But Gianna—”

“Dominic’s taking care of her.”

“Oh . . . I drank so much tonight.”

Nico laughed. “Yeah?”

“But I loved it,” I blurted. “I had so much fun.”

Nico opened my door and I dropped into my seat. He lowered to his haunches beside me and buckled me up. “You’ve been hanging out with Gianna?”

“Yes!”

His eyes narrowed. “No drugs, Elena.”

“Yes, sir,” I laughed.

“I’m serious.”

Something sober settled in me when I remembered his mamma. “No drugs,” I said.

“Promise me.”

“I promise, Ace.”

His lips tipped up. “Ace, huh?”

I nodded lazily. “I’m trying it out.” And from that moment on, I called him Ace whenever I was drunk, Nicolas when I was mad, and Nico all the times in between.

He ran a thumb across my cheek. “Are you going to puke in my car?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why would I puke? I feel great.”

He made an amused noise. “Fuck, this will be fun.” He shut my door and I watched him through the windshield as he walked around the car. He looked like a don tonight, and I was dying to take him home and rip off his clothes to humanize him a bit.

My head rolled against the headrest to look at him once he was in the driver’s seat. “How are you so handsome?”

He chuckled. “God’s gift, I guess.” He gripped my cheek and pressed a deep kiss on my lips that made me melt into my seat.

I fell asleep somewhere between the club and home, but I made it all the way to the toilet to puke.

OceanofPDF.com

“Love is a strange dark magic.”

—Atticus

SUNLIGHT SHONE THROUGH THE HIGH windows of the church’s bridal suite, lighting dust particles in the air like tiny flickers of gold. Nausea swirled in my belly, and I pressed a hand to my stomach and tried to breathe through it.

I swayed as Mamma tugged at my laces. “You’ve got to suck in, Elena. I’ve barely begun tightening it up.”

Che palle. It felt like she was squeezing the life out of me.

“For goodness’ sake, Celia, she can’t suck in her boobs,” Nonna commented from her seat in the corner. She had a Vanity Fair magazine in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“It’s her backside I’m having trouble with. The laces are gonna be gaping at the seams if I can’t cinch them in any tighter.”

And they wonder how I could ever be depressed . . .

With another jerk on my laces, I breathed, “Oh, God,” and covered my mouth as nausea traveled up my throat.

“Quick, Adriana! The waste bin!” Nonna exclaimed.

My sister hopped from her chair, and I met her halfway across the room before throwing up my breakfast of coffee and toast in the small trashcan.

“Che schifo.” Mamma grimaced.

Adriana rubbed my back. She wore a pink off-the-shoulder bridesmaid’s dress and her hair and makeup were done. My cousins were still in the room across the hall finishing with theirs.

“Welcome to the club,” she muttered. “I puked three times this morning.”

I already knew because I’d heard her through the bathroom door. I’d stayed at my parents’ last night for formality’s sake. Nico wasn’t happy about it, but I only got one wedding and I wanted to keep the tradition of being separated the night before, regardless that we were already married. I’d kissed him in his car for ten minutes when he dropped me off. It was only one night apart, but something tugged deep in my chest as I walked away from him.