Page 49 of Bound in Vengeance
Valerio shifts his weight, slipping the tablet into his jacket pocket. "Take Sienna to dinner with the elders. Introduce her to them properly before the wedding. Let them see her at your side. Right now, they view you as a liability, as someone who acts entirely on impulse. Showing up with her on your arm, playingthe part of a happy lover, will make you seem less unhinged and more serious. That is exactly what they want from a Don."
He isn't wrong. To the council, dropping my original arrangement, choosing another bride out of nowhere, and aggressively moving the wedding date up seemed unstable, like the erratic tantrums of a warlord rather than the strategic plays of a future ruler.
I stare out at the dark water for a long beat, calculating the angles, before giving a firm nod. "It's not a bad idea."
"I'll reach out to the council elders tonight and coordinate the dinner," Valerio says, pulling his phone out to log the task. "When would you like to have it?"
I cut a sharp glare in his direction, irritation flaring in my chest. "The wedding is in fucking three days. It has to be tomorrow night, or there’s not point.”
"Tomorrow it is," he mutters, unfazed by my temper, his fingers flying across the screen.
I rub the back of my neck, aware that I'm in an incredibly foul mood. And it isn't just because of the political circus with the elders. It's because I went completely out of my way to ambush Sienna at that cathedral today simply because I couldn’t take the distance anymore.
After she slammed my car door last week, I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t see her or give her the satisfaction of my presence until she walked down the aisle. But I caved today.
And fuck, it was delicious.
It took every ounce of discipline and restraint in my body not to bend her over that wooden pew and fuck her right there. The girl is entirely too perfect for me. Made for me in every twisted way possible. So fiercely beautiful, even when she's hating me.
"I will go and set up the venue and the security protocol then," Valerio’s voice breaks through my dark musings, dragging me back to the cold docks. He looks at me intently. "Please brief Sienna about them before tomorrow night. You know how those old traditionalists are. They’ll look for any excuse to pick her apart."
"I'll handle her," I rumble.
With a final nod, Valerio turns and walks back toward the warmth of Warehouse B, leaving me alone with the whistling wind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SIENNA
"You got to pick the color palette for the bouquets, Daniela! It is my turn to choose the fabric textures for the reception drapery!" Camilla shouts, her hands flying wildly in the air as she paces the length of the Persian rug.
"Drapery?" Daniela fires back, rolling her eyes as she lounge-sprawls across the velvet armchair. "Camilla, nobody is looking at the curtains. They are looking at the jewelry. Sienna needs more diamond options for that, depending on her dress’ neckline, which means we need to browse the vault selection while she's in the dressing room."
I let out a long, heavy groan, sinking deeper into the cushions of the sofa as the storm rages around me.
Finally, today is the day. I am picking my wedding dress.
I had intentionally put it off for days, dragging my feet through every bridal consultation and fabric swatch delivery because the mere thought of stepping into a white gown made the reality of this nightmare entirely too real. A wedding dress meant a ceremony. A ceremony meant a vow. A vow meant belonging to Alessandro Gallo forever.
But my avoidance tactics officially expired this morning. My father marched into my bedroom at the crack of dawn, his face a stern, unyielding mask as he stared down at me from the foot of my bed.
"If you do not pick your dress today, Sienna," he had barked with cold authority, "I will select one for you myself and have it delivered to your room on your wedding morning. Do not embarrass this family. Or I will embarrass you.”
So, today it is.
As always, Daniela and Camilla are going completely crazy at the mere prospect of a high-end shopping spree. We have our father’s black Amex card tucked securely inside my purse, which means we have a green light to splurge as much as we want without looking at a single price tag.
Daniela's sudden obsession with my "jewelry options" is just a thinly veiled excuse for her to upgrade her own collection for the gala season. Camilla, on the other hand, is insisting she has to be the absolute dictator of the dress silhouette.
Honestly, I really don’t mind at this point. Let them fight over tulle and satin. My mind is entirely too exhausted to care.
I sit trapped in the middle of them, my head swiveling back and forth as I listen to them argue over sweetheart necklines versus dramatic trains, treating my impending doom like a red-carpet premier.
Right now, we are just stuck waiting in the foyer for Father to finish organizing our security detail so we can finally leave the estate. Because God forbid the precious Caruso girls go anywhere in this city without a massive, suffocating entourage of armed guards tracking our every move
Who does our father think we are?
Valuable cargo he’s terrified of losing before the transaction is finalized, of course.
