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“I’m glad you came.” What I really wanted to say was that I was glad that she had chosen to stay alive.
She sniffed, her hand coming to cup the side of my face. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Vina.”
We stood there, mother and daughter, yet we felt so much like strangers. The last time I believed that my mother really knew me was when I was nineteen. After that, her grief locked her away from the world as the darkness enveloped her soul. Bodily, she was alive. But inside she wasn’t really part of the living anymore.
She was often highly medicated and lost in her own pain. I knew that seeing my face pierced her already soft heart. I looked so much like my father… she probably felt like she was looking into the eyes of a ghost—his ghost.
So, I had stayed away. I blamed it on my busy schedule most of the times, but that had been the true reason. I could do nothing to take her pain away, so I chose instead to ease it with my absence.
“You grew up so well.” Her eyes softened. “I left you as a little girl, and now you’re a woman. A force of sheer power and elegance. They would be so proud.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes as the emotion I fought for years to suppress increased in the middle of my chest.
“I hope so.”
My mother grabbed my hand and held onto it for dear life. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am for having left you alone all this time, Vina. You were only a child and you needed me, and I will never forgive myself for not being strong enough for you. But from this day forth I promise to be at your side until my last breath.”
Hearing her say those words was like feeling this large weight lift off my chest. She was all I had left of my bloodline. I always put on a brave face, as my job required. But every daughter needed their mother, no matter what age they were.
“Thank you, mama.” I pulled her into my arms and hugged her for the first time in nine years. “Thank you.”
Words could not explain what her words had done to me. But now I felt more than ready to face this new phase of my life with her by my side.
Chapter Eight
Andres’ POV
Poison.
That’s what I’d thought that woman was, and that was what she had already shown herself to be. I had told my father that, but he hadn’t listened to me.
He was held up on this idea of expanding the Empire. But we didn’t need to. We ran the opioid ring and we had far more clubs in the city than Davern had STIs. Our Empire was solid, and the last thing we needed to be doing was peddling into already claimed business.
The door to the large room opened and the violins began to play. The congregation stood and turned to face the bride at the other end of the aisle.
At her side was her mother, who was more so a phantom than an actual person. I was stunned to see her here, seeing as she had never made any appearance again since her husband and son's assassination nine years ago.
I had thought Savina had killed her as an act of power. But I was wrong, I guess. There was some humanity left in her after all.
The two Baratelli women walked hand in hand down the aisle. Savina had put down her veil, but it was sheer enough that everyone could see her face. There was no dazzling smile to show her happiness. There was no sparkle in her eyes as she stared at me. All that reflected in those molten pools of caramel were blankness. She hid her emotions well.
For all her bitchiness, the woman was striking, and that fact alone annoyed me. Why did she have to be so goddamn sexy? It made it harder to control my dick when she looked like every man’s wet dream.
This was the moment where a groom was meant to be overflowing with love for his bride. But all I could feel was disgust and rage.
The dress she had chosen showed off her fit physique and gave her chest that added pick up she didn’t really need, not in my opinion. Her face had been kept natural, but the makeup still highlighted the most beautiful parts of her features.
When I had first barged into her suite demanding answers, I had almost faltered and fucked her right there by that stupid vanity. Her mouth was just begging to be filled by my—oh my God. Was I seriously thinking about sex at a time like this?
Her mother looked frail, like she was sick or rather, recovering from sickness. They looked nothing like each other, apart from possibly the black hair that was similar in style and length.
They came to a halt at the end of the aisle.
“Who gives this woman to be married?” the preacher behind me exclaimed.
“I do.” Francesca’s voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it. She handed her daughter off to me, our hands coming in contact for the first time, causing a shiver to run down my spine.
I blamed it on the cold blood that ran through her veins.
