THE CALLAHANS (A Mafia Romance): The Complete 5 Books Series (69 page)

Mia

I thought my mom might begin to cry when I stepped out of the dressing room. She stood behind Daddy’s wheelchair, her hand on his shoulder. He reached up and took her hand, the same expression on both their faces.

The dress had a sweetheart bodice that tied like a corset in the back. It was an A-line style with a flowing skirt of lace and satin that billowed out in a lovely, graceful circle behind me. It was only the third dress I’d tried on, but I loved it. And seeing the looks on their faces, I knew they did, too.

I only wished I was a little more optimistic about the wedding.

I stood in front of the mirror and studied myself, trying to imagine what it would look like when I walked down the aisle. I’d always imagined the man I loved standing at the altar. But now, when I thought about that moment, I couldn’t imagine Ian there. I also couldn’t imagine Spider. In fact, I hadn’t really thought much about Spider since I left Chicago.

“You look so beautiful,” Momma said, coming up behind me. She rested her hands on my bare shoulders. “You’re going to be the loveliest bride.”

I forced a smile as I met her eye in the mirror. This day was supposed to be so different.

I hadn’t seen Ian again since the night we met. Our fathers were busy sending out engagement announcements and planning parties, but he never even called me. I didn’t even get a say on when we were going to get married. Again, our fathers set it up for a month from today at the Catholic church I’d attended since I was an infant.

Things were moving so fast.

“We have a couple of hours. Do you want to keep looking?”

I shook my head. “I like this one.”

My mother beamed. “Me too.”

She called the saleswoman over, and suddenly everything was a flurry of activity. They pulled and pinched, trying to adjust the dress so that it fit me as if it was tailor made. My sister’s dress was tailor made. I understood the rush; it just wasn’t what I’d imagined it would be.

“Did Mother tell you that you’re to meet Ian at the photographer’s in an hour?”

I glanced at my dad. “Seriously?”

“We need photographs for the engagement party.”

“And the wedding invitations,” Momma interjected. “It gives them a little bit of a personal touch.”

“But I’m not ready for pictures.”

Momma brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “Don’t worry, Seraphina and I packed you a case filled with everything you should need. It’ll be just fine.”

The saleslady took me back to the dressing room and helped me slip out of the wedding dress without knocking lose any of the pins the seamstress had put in it. I dressed in the jeans and t-shirt I’d put on that morning, grabbed my bag, and headed out. My parents were waiting in the lobby of the store, my dad on the phone with someone, probably one of his lieutenants. Momma slipped her arm through mine and led the way out to the car.

“Did I ever tell you that I barely knew your father when I married him?”

I glanced at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “I was the daughter of the don, and your father was his rising star. I got myself in a little trouble with this boy from school, a local boy who didn’t really matter in the scheme of it all. My father thought it would be best if I married into the family, so he arranged for Carmine and I to marry. I was…I was angry. I walked down that aisle kicking and screaming. You can see it in the wedding pictures, the red blotchiness of my face. But it turned out for the best.”

“But that was the sixties, Momma. Things have changed.”

She sighed. “They have. But family is still family.”

I knew what she was saying. This wasn’t just about me. It was about the organization. It was about my brothers and my father and the business he’d built up since my grandfather died. I knew why this was important. I just wasn’t sure I could go through with it. Was it so bad to want to find a little happiness? To marry for love? To have children and live a life of contentment? Was that even possible anymore?

Ian was beautiful, but what kind of man was he? What kind of life did he want? Would we even have anything to talk about when we were stuck alone in each other’s company?

There were so many unknowns that I was absolutely frightened.

They dropped me off in front of the photography studio, leaving me standing there at the curb with the case my mother packed in my hands. I felt like a child being shuttled between parents, or something. I slowly walked up the steps to the studio, my heart heavy.

“Miss Rossi?” a woman with long, red nails asked, as I stepped through the door, the bell still ringing behind me.

“Yes.”

“They’re waiting for you.”

She gestured with one of those nails down a long hall. I walked slowly, glancing inside each open door as I passed it. I heard voices behind the double doors at the very end, a male voice saying something about the background.

“For formal pictures, we like to use this background,” he was saying as I stepped into the large, almost warehouse-like, room. Ian was standing beside a short man, towering over him. He seemed bored and less prepared for this than I was. He was wearing jeans and flip-flops, an open button down exposing a white, ribbed undershirt stretched tight over his hard chest.

“Then we have the more casual,” the man continued. “You said this was for engagement pictures?”

“It is.”

“Not bridal? You don’t want any pictures in your wedding attire, do you? That might cost extra.”

“No. Just engagement pictures.”

There was a slight catch to Ian’s voice when he said the word “engagement.” I found myself wondering if he’d informed his girlfriend yet.

“Well, as soon as your intended bride arrives…”

“I’m here.”

They both turned, the photographer openly admiring in his glance. Ian, however, was as hard to read as before.

“Okay,” the photographer said, “if you’ll just change your clothes, we can get this started. Why don’t we start with formal clothing and we’ll work our way backwards.” He gestured toward a door. “Dressing rooms.”

Ian didn’t say a word to me, but I wasn’t exactly open, either. I slipped into the dressing room and twisted the lock on the door. I could hear him moving around the room next to mine as the walls were incredibly thin. I wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment, but I had little choice. What was I going to do, jump a plane and disappear? That was really my only option, but my access to my trust fund was revoked when I moved to Chicago, so I had no resources, no way to pay for that little disappearing act.

I was completely dependent on my family. And it seriously sucked.

I unzipped the bag my mom and Seraphina had packed for me, digging through it to see what they’d thought was appropriate for these pictures. There was a summer dress that they must have dug out from the very back of my closet because it was one I thought I’d thrown away. And a red dress that was okay, but not really my style. A black dress that was more suitable for a funeral than engagement pictures—even though this felt sort of like a funeral. I didn’t think they’d be happy with that. I finally found a blue dress, soft and naturally wrinkled; it was flattering with its natural waistline and moderately short skirt.

I undressed quickly and slipped the dress over my head, praying that my bra straps wouldn’t show too much. Once on, I tugged my hair up into a cute little twist, curls cascading over my neck, and applied just enough makeup to highlight my eyes. I stepped back to take in the whole picture, aware of all my shortcomings, but hoping it would be enough to make the invitations feel more intimate.

Ian was already back in the studio, waiting. He was wearing a crisp, white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, with black slacks and a matching black sports coat. Somehow it made him look dangerous and approachable all at the same time.

“Mia,” he said, my name flowing like music from his lips.

“Ian and Mia. How sweet,” the photographer said, coming up behind me and tugging on my arm. “If you’ll stand close to him, your hand on his chest, we can get this thing started.”

I was suddenly in Ian’s arms, not really clear on how I got there. I looked up at him, the breath disappearing from my lungs as I met his eyes. He was watching me with such complete admiration that I almost felt beautiful. Almost.

I looked down and he lifted my face, forcing me to look him in the eye.

“This is stupid,” I whispered.

“I know. But it makes them happy.”

“Can you believe they’re pushing this so fast?”

“A month.” He shook his head. “I was hoping for three or four, what with all the guests they are talking about.”

“I was hoping a year.” When he smiled, I shrugged. “I didn’t think a year was such a long engagement.”

“If you’ll just look at each other,” the photographer called.

I felt the snap of his shutter more than saw the flash. I felt like such a fraud, standing there in his arms. I wondered about the woman he loved, wondered how I compared to her. How much would he rather have her in his arms than me? How badly did he miss her? Was he still seeing her?

All these thoughts floated through my mind as the photographer walked around us, adjusting our arms and tugging us ever closer to one another. I felt like a mannequin being manipulated by a window dresser.

“Pull her hip in closer to you,” the photographer said. “Act like you actually like each other.”

Ian immediately dropped his hand to my hip, tugging me so close that the hard edge of his hip pressed into my side. I looked up, my heart skipping just the slightest beat when he brushed his fingers over my ass, just this little touch that might have been accidental. But might not have been.

“Beautiful,” the photographer called. “I think that’s perfect. Just a couple more and then…”

He brushed some hair from my face, his fingertips lingering on my jaw. I thought he might say something, but then the photographer called to us again.

“All done. I’ll download it onto the computer while you change, then we’ll decide which ones you want.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

The man smiled, but he was already taking the memory card from his camera. We were dismissed like a couple of children.

“I thought there’d be more.”

“Count your blessings,” Ian said. “He could have made us stand there for hours.”

I giggled even as he slid his arm around me and led the way to the dressing rooms. We separated briefly, then stood together to look at the pictures. I was a little shocked by how real the pictures looked, by how much affection there seemed to be between us. The way he was looking at me, the way it appeared I was looking at him, it just seemed really real. It felt a little surreal.

Ian chose the pictures that we would use because I couldn’t find my voice.

I headed out and was halfway down the stairs when Ian caught up to me.

“Do you have a ride?”

I turned and squinted up at him in the sunlight. “No, I don’t, actually. I was going to call an Uber.”

“Why don’t you let me drive you home? I actually wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Yeah?”

He came a few more steps closer to me, shielding me from the bright sunlight with just the presence of his body. “We’re getting married in a few weeks, so I suppose we should talk about a few things.”

“I suppose so.”

He studied my face for a long second. “I just…I thought we should try to get to know each other a little.”

“Okay.”

He gestured for me to continue down the stairs. When we reached the bottom, he slipped my bag off my shoulder and pressed a button that lit up the lights on a Mercedes-Benz W212. He tossed our things into the backseat, then opened the front passenger side, touching my arm to help me inside. Very chivalrous. I couldn’t imagine Spider ever doing such a thing. Spider’s idea of being considerate was tossing the fast food containers into the sink when he was done with them even though the trash was only a few feet away.

I watched Ian climb behind the wheel, unable to ignore the way his body moved. He was almost graceful in his movements, aware of his body in the way that a dancer might be. His fingers were long and slender, almost delicate. I watched those fingers grip the steering wheel, my thoughts going somewhere they really shouldn’t have. I hardly knew this man, but I was imagining what it would look like to see those fingers brushing over my skin, to feel them touch the most intimate places, to feel them slide…

I forced myself to look away, chastising myself for having such thoughts. I stared out the window as we drove across town, watching the familiar streets fly by. I met Spider at a club down this street. I was fresh out of school, looking for a way to get out from under my father’s thumb. And Spider definitely gave me that. Daddy hated him, and that made me love him all the more.

What an idiot I was. But I’d never admit that to my family.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Ian said.

I looked over at him. “What’s she like?”

“Who?”