Wedding Day He Ruined His Bride, Then Begged for Her Back

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Marco Rovello and his childhood sweetheart had never gotten along, neither of them willing to give an inch.

On the day of our alliance-marriage, she decided she couldn't stand to see Marco happy, so on the way to the church she had men take me in the back of a car.

Then she played the footage in front of the assembled Families during the reception.

At my bedside, Marco's eyes went red with grief, and he lunged toward the door, grinding his teeth.

"She can't beat me, so she takes it out on you! Gioia Ferraro, just wait. I'm going to tear the skin off her today!"

But half an hour later, a message synced to the tablet he'd left on the chair.

The sender was pinned to the top of his contacts, the profile picture Serafina Volpe.

A whole screen of filthy words stabbed into my eyes.

Serafina: You used "settling the score with me" as an excuse, then pinned me to the wall and kissed me. Is that how you defend your girl?

Serafina: But the way you looked at me just now, eyes red like you wanted to devour me? That's addictive.

Marco replied: Gioia is innocent. She's given up so much for me. I really do love her. We can't keep going down this wrong path.

Serafina fired back instantly: Fine. Then I'll go spend the night with my man.

The next second, Marco sent a frantic new message:

Don't you dare. Wait for me at the usual place.

As for Gioia, I'll treat her well for the rest of her life. I don't want to hurt her, but it seems like I really can't quit you.

The screen went dark.

I clutched the edge of the blanket, teeth biting into my lower lip.

Hurried footsteps came down the hallway, and I shoved the tablet back under the pillow.

I picked up the phone from the nightstand and dialed the Feds.

The door to the room swung open.

Marco walked in carrying an insulated food container.

He saw the number on my phone screen, threw himself at me, snatched it away, and pressed the button to end the call.

"Gioia, what are you doing! You can't bring the Feds into this!"

I said coldly, "Give me the phone. I want Serafina behind bars."

"Have you even thought this through!"

Marco wrapped his arms around me.

"Once the law gets a case, everything that happened to you goes on the record. That footage will get played over and over as evidence!"

"Every Family will hear of it, every street will hear of it, and they'll all look at you like you're something dirty! I can't let you go through that!"

"But she had them do this to me!"

I shoved him away. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I be the one hiding! I want her to pay!"

Marco knelt at the edge of the bed and gripped my wrist.

"Can't you just leave it to me? I already gave her a brutal lesson."

"I'll make the rest of her life worse than death. Just trust me, all right?"

I looked at him, and suddenly he felt like a stranger.

Our second year together, on my birthday.

Serafina had dumped a full glass of red wine all over my white dress.

Marco had shot to his feet and flipped the table in front of him.

Plates shattered across the marble floor, and in that private room every conversation in the club died at once.

"Serafina, what the hell is wrong with you!"

Serafina said it was an accident.

Marco grabbed a bottle of beer and poured it straight over her head.

"That was an accident too. Get out!"

He smashed the bottle against the floor. No one moved. No one dared.

From that day on, I'd believed he would always keep me safe behind him.

"Did you go hit her?"

Marco buried his face in the crook of my neck, his shoulders trembling, and didn't answer the question.

"Gioia, as long as I'm here, I will never let anyone hurt you again, not even a little. We won't go to the Feds. Let me handle this, okay?"

I lowered my head, about to speak.

But then I caught a faint scent of lemon sea-salt perfume.

Serafina was the only one who wore that brand.

His fingers drifted up to the inside of his collar, resting there a moment too long.

My gaze followed them downward.

Deep inside Marco's slightly parted collar, there was a dark red mark.

"What happened to your neck?"

Marco followed my gaze and touched his neck. His hand went rigid.

He tugged at his collar.

"Serafina scratched me earlier, when I was teaching her a lesson."

"Was it a scratch, or a kiss?"

Marco's expression turned uneasy.

"Gioia, what are you talking about? You're too on edge right now."

He stood up and crossed to the table, lifting the lid off the container. Somewhere down the corridor a soldier shifted his weight outside the door, the floor creaking under the man Marco had posted there.

"I went all the way to the south side of the territory to get your favorite little wontons. You haven't eaten all day. Have some warm soup first."

He scooped up one wonton, blew on it, and lifted it to my lips.

That lemon-sea-salt scent drifted over again.

I pushed his hand away.

I leaned over the edge of the bed and started retching.

Marco reached out to pat my back.

I slapped his hand away hard. "Don't touch me!"

"Okay, okay, I won't touch you."

Marco raised both hands and stepped back. "Sweetheart, don't get worked up. I'll go get the doctor."

He turned, pulled open the door, and hurried out.

Just now I'd almost believed he was doing this for my sake.

But the kiss mark inside his collar, and the messages I'd just seen, told me plainly.

He wasn't stopping me from bringing in the Feds for my sake. He was doing it to protect Serafina.

For the next two weeks, Marco never left my side in the private room the Family kept quiet at the clinic.

He wiped my face and fed me my meals.

When I shifted in the middle of the night, he'd sit up at once and take my hand. "Don't be scared. I'm here."

When the nurse came on rounds, she said to me, "Your husband is so good to you. Every time I come in on the night shift, he hasn't closed his eyes."

I looked at Marco.

"Yes. He's always been this good to me."

I thought back to the morning the alliance was sealed, when Marco had just put on his suit for the union that bound our families in blood.

Serafina called, saying her stomach hurt so badly she was rolling on the floor, telling him to come rush her to the hospital.

Marco shouted into the phone, "If your stomach hurts, call the house doctor! I'm getting married today. The sky could fall and I still wouldn't go!"

He blocked Serafina's number right in front of me, then took my hand and walked out the door.

I once thought a man like that would love me for the rest of my life.

"Marco, I'm bringing in the Feds."

I brought it up again.

Marco's hands stopped moving. In the hush, the ice in the pitcher on the tray settled with a small, brittle sound.

"Why are you bringing this up again?"

He came to the bedside. "Didn't I tell you? I already taught her a lesson."

"I can't let this go."

Marco raised his hand and, with a loud crack, slapped himself hard across the face.

Then another slap.

"It's all my fault!"

He struck himself left and right. "I didn't protect you! I'm useless!"

Red handprints surfaced fast across his face.

"Sweetheart, do you really have to tear the wound open and show it to every Family all over again?"

He grabbed my hand and forced it against his own face. "Hit me, take it out on me, just don't go to the Feds, all right? I'm begging you!"

I pulled my hand back and said nothing. Under the blanket, my thumb turned the empty space on my left ring finger, around and around.

Marco crouched on the floor, covering his face, crying.

At eight that night, Marco's phone rang.

"It's the crew. I need to take this."

He walked out of the room.

I sat up and picked up the second phone he'd just slid into the drawer.

I opened the car service's order history.

The morning of the alliance-marriage.

Marco had suddenly told me there was a big problem with the arrangements at the hotel, that he had to get there early.

He'd told me to take a separate car.

The record showed he'd been picked up at our building, and the destination wasn't the hotel at all.

It was Serafina's apartment.

Right after that, I saw his messages with Serafina.

Serafina: You have to keep Gioia calm. You absolutely cannot let her bring in the Feds!

You'd better not forget, half the tribute that bought those animals came off your own envelope! If she runs to the Feds, you don't walk away clean either!

Marco:I've been at her side for days now. She trusts me. She won't go to the Feds.

Serafina:Then when are you coming to me?

Marco:The moment she's asleep.

My breathing turned ragged, my fingers shaking beyond my control.

He'd left me sitting there in my wedding dress, the vows barely cold, and gone to Serafina's bed.

He was the one who paid to have me destroyed.

I slid the backup phone back into the drawer.

The door of the room opened.

"Tesoro, why aren't you asleep yet?"

He came to the bedside and tucked the blanket up around me, the picture of a devoted husband. A made man playing his part for an audience of one.

"About to. The Family's busy this season. You don't have to sit with me."

"How could I do that? I've already told the crew I'm taking time. Once you're stronger, I'll take you somewhere far from all of this. Clear your head."

Marco stroked my hair.

"All right. Then we'll settle the paperwork and go home tomorrow."

All I wanted now was to be out of there, away from him.

The day they let me go, we went home.

Every scrap of red wedding trim, every symbol of the union our families had sealed, had been stripped from the front room, replaced by pale beige curtains and a beige rug. As if the pact had never been signed in blood at all.

Marco poured a glass of warm water and set it on the low table, then took out his phone and tapped at it a few times.

My phone buzzed.

A message: twenty thousand deposited into my account.

"Tesoro, take this. Twenty thousand. Buy yourself whatever you want, clothes, something that catches the light. From now on every envelope I earn goes straight to you."

Marco sat down beside me.

"Keep it. I don't need your money."

I was about to send it back when he closed his hand over mine.

"Take it. I want to make it right."

Just then came a knock at the door.

Marco's brow drew tight. He stood and went to answer it.

Serafina waited in the hall in a scarlet, thin-strapped dress, the Don's goddaughter dressed to be seen.

"Well. I heard Gioia Ferraro was let out, so I came to pay my respects."

She craned her neck, trying to see past him into the apartment.

Marco filled the doorframe. "What are you doing here? Get out."

"Marco, why are you blocking the door?"

Serafina let out a soft laugh, and for half a second too long the smile held while her fingers pressed flat against her thigh. "Afraid it'll upset her to see me?"

Marco seized her wrist, hauled her out into the hall, and shut the door behind them with a heavy bang.

The two of them were in it together, thick as thieves, bound by the same secret, yet here they were performing this show of being at each other's throats.

I badly wanted to know how they truly moved around each other, behind my back, when no one was meant to watch.

I got up, crossed to the door, and pressed my eye to the peephole.

The stairwell's motion light had come on.

Serafina flung his hand off and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Marco, what's the sour face for?"

She dropped her voice low. "What, feeling sorry for her now that you've seen the state she's in?"

Marco caught her finger. "I told you to leave her alone."

Serafina gave a cold laugh. "Don't forget, the getaway tribute for those thugs came out of your pocket."

"If you can't keep her quiet and she runs to the Feds, we all go down together."

"Fine. I'll walk in right now and tell her exactly where you were on your wedding night."

She stepped forward, reaching for the handle.

"Shut your mouth."

Marco yanked her back and pinned her hard against the white stairwell wall.

He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own.

Serafina braced both hands against his chest, pushed twice for show, then wound her arms around his neck.

They were tangled together, right there outside the door, in the open, where any soul on the landing could have seen.

His hand even slipped up beneath the hem of her dress.

I let go of the handle and stepped back. Twice.

I couldn't stomach another second of that disgusting scene.

I clenched my hands and fought to steady myself.

I don't know how long it was before Marco came back in.

He locked the door behind him and slammed the keys down hard on the console by the entryway.

He crouched in front of the couch and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I'm sorry, Gioia. I never thought she'd have the nerve to show up in front of you. I cursed her out and sent her away."

Marco lifted his head. "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, she won't dare come near you again."

I looked at his faintly reddened lips, and the mark on his collar. His fingers drifted up, brushing the inside of that collar as he spoke, the way they always did.

All at once it felt pointless. Tangling with trash like this, even winning was losing.

"Okay. I believe you."

I played along, my mind already made up.

"What do you want for lunch? I'll make it."

Marco stood up.

"I want braciole, the way your mother makes it," I said.

Marco went into the kitchen, and the sound of running water rose as he washed the vegetables.

I took out my phone and called Nonna.

"Nonna, are you home?"

"I'm home. What's got you calling, Gioia?"

Nonna's voice came through, soft as flour, a world away from the marble and locked doors of the Rovello arrangement.

"I want to come back."

"Is Marco coming back with you?"

"No, just me. I'm done here. I'm coming back to the village to stay for good."

"All right. I'll make up the bed for you."

After I hung up, I opened the ticketing app and bought a bus ticket to the country town beyond the Families' reach.

For the last three days, I didn't bring up Serafina again, and I didn't mention going to the Feds. Both of us knew that word was the one that could not be said aloud in this house.

Every morning I got up early to cook Marco his breakfast, and every night I pressed his shirts and hung them in the closet.

Marco watched me and smiled while he ate.

"Tesoro, you've finally come around. Let's just live our lives like this, and forget everything that happened before," Marco said.

I nodded. "Eat up. It's getting cold."

The last night before I left.

I sat on the couch.

My phone screen lit up.

A video message had come in.

The sender was an unknown number.

I opened the video.

On the screen was a hotel bed.

Marco had his eyes closed.

"Marco, who makes you feel better, me or Gioia Ferraro?"

Serafina asked in the video.

Marco didn't open his eyes. He rolled over and pulled her into his arms.

"Why bring her up right now? She's a block of wood. In bed she's like a corpse. Nothing like you, so free with it."

Marco's voice came through clearly. "Enough talking. Let's go again."

Serafina smiled at the camera and set the phone face down on the table.

Then, from the dark screen, came sounds I couldn't bear to hear.

Right after, a text arrived from that number.

Gioia Ferraro, did you see? Your man already thinks you're used goods someone else has had.

He's in my bed every day now. He's coming to me again tonight. Care to come watch?

I gripped the phone, my nails digging into my palm.

The running water in the kitchen stopped.

Marco dried his hands and came out.

He glanced at his phone.

He walked to the bedroom to grab his jacket.

"Gioia, there's trouble with the crew's books, numbers that don't square. The capo wants me down at the club tonight to sort it. Go to bed early, don't wait up for me." His hand went to his collar as he said it, two fingers pressing the fabric flat.

"This late, and you still have to go?"

I asked from the couch.

"No choice. That's the life. You know that."

Marco reached the door and put on his shoes.

He came back over, bent down, and kissed my forehead.

"Tesoro, be good and wait for me at home."

The lock clicked shut.

The footsteps in the hallway gradually faded away.

I didn't hesitate any longer.

My thumb turned once over the bare space on my left ring finger. Then I packed my suitcase quickly and headed for the bus station, out past the streets the Rovellos owned, toward the country roads no Family had ever bothered to claim.

Eleven thirty at night.

Marco walked in carrying a bag from the late-night joint on the corner.

The apartment was pitch dark.

"Gioia, I'm home. Look, I brought you the roasted peppers you like"

Marco flipped the switch on the wall.

The living room lit up. There was no one there.

Marco froze for a moment, then strode into the bedroom.

"Gioia?"

No one was on the bed. The blankets were folded neatly.

He turned and slid open the closet door.

The left half was empty.

He rushed into the bathroom.

Half the things on the vanity were gone.

He ran back to the living room and immediately spotted the diamond ring and bank card left on the coffee table.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed my number.

A cold woman's voice came from the speaker:

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again."

Marco hung up and dialed again.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service"