‘OK then. I guess you know what you’re doing.’
Dario suddenly grins, and I realize he does know what he’s doing, once again exactly like me.
We’re Santangelos. We get it
.
* * *
The three of us at dinner is surprisingly pleasant. Me, Dario and Gino. A family unit.
You see, Daddy, I really don’t need another family
.
Gino is in a talkative mood, regaling us with stories about his early days in New York, the foster homes he’d been shuttled back and forth from, his teenage life of poverty and petty crime. He makes it all sound exciting and interesting, although I know he’d experienced tough times after his mom ran off when he was only five, and his dad was an abusive felon. Uncle Costa had revealed Gino’s story to me one day with the hope that it would make me ‘calm down’, as he called my penchant for running away.
After dinner, Gino announces that he has a surprise for me.
The three of us head to the front of the hotel, and parked there, to my utter delight, is a gleaming red Ferrari. The car of my dreams.
‘Oh my
God
!’ I exclaim. ‘Is it really mine?’
‘All yours, kiddo,’ Gino says with a great big grin. ‘I’m arrangin’ to have it shipped to Washington. It’ll be there before you know it.’
I am overcome with joy. A Ferrari. A
red
Ferrari. It’s the car I’ve always coveted.
‘Can I drive it?’ I beg.
‘Be my guest,’ Gino says, still beaming.
He throws me the keys. I hug him.
‘Do I get a Ferrari when
I
get married?’ Dario jokes.
‘No,’ Gino responds. ‘You get the keys to the whole hotel.’
Those words kind of take the shine off. A Ferrari or the hotel? Hey – I’m kind of thinking I would prefer the keys to the hotel. But I guess – for now – a Ferrari will have to do.
Chapter Fifty-One
I
t’s my wedding day. The sun is shining. It’s Vegas and I am getting married. Raoul appears early, and before I know it the penthouse is filled with people. Aunt Jen is fussing around, there is a hairdresser and make-up artist, and a lanky photographer is catching casual shots, while several assistants are running back and forth.
Gino’s bedroom door is tightly shut. Dario and Olympia have yet to appear.
I feel isolated, surrounded by a sea of strangers.
Today is the day.
The
day.
My stomach’s performing cartwheels. My heart is beating slowly, or is it fast? – I’m not so sure.
Gino emerges. Dario arrives. Olympia appears.
I sit in a chair in front of a mirror watching as I am changed into the picture of what a bride is supposed to look like.
When the pros are finished I race into the bedroom, wipe off the creepy low-key make-up, and do my own thing. Then I rough up my hair into its usual tumble of long dark curls, and finally I look like me again.
Dario slides into the bathroom and offers me a joint. I take a couple of drags.
Raoul is ready with the dress. I slip into it. It skims my body and makes me feel beautiful.
‘You are a picture of luminosity, child,’ Raoul coos. ‘A vision of wildness.’
I try to smile. My lips feel dry. My throat feels constricted.
Somebody hands me a bouquet of white flowers.
I don’t want to carry a bouquet. I hand it back to them.
Then we all set off downstairs to the flower garden where the wedding is to take place.
We stand outside, waiting, waiting, until it’s time.
We hear the music and Gino takes my arm.
Daddy Dearest. Gino the Ram
.
I love him. I hate him
.
WHAT AM I DOING?
Am I seeking my freedom, or am I sealing my fate?
Who knows?
I certainly don’t
.
We start the long walk down the flower-covered aisle. Me and Gino. A matching pair.
I spot Marco. Our eyes meet for a split second. We connect. One day he will be mine, I know this to be a fact.
The adventure is beginning. Is it an adventure or the start of some bleak nightmare?
I am sixteen years old and I am taking a step that could turn out to be a disaster.
My arm shakes. Gino holds me tight.
What is he thinking?
What am I thinking?
Is this a huge mistake?
I will never be Mrs Craven Richmond. In my head I will always be Lucky Santangelo. A free spirit. A strong independent woman.
Yes, I am Lucky Santangelo, and one day I am going to take over Gino’s empire.
Only time will tell . . .
Table of Contents
Table of Contents