Chapter 2 - THE WEDDING I NEVER SAW
I woke up married.
That sentence sounds ridiculous even now.
At the time, nothing sounded like anything because the first twenty-four hours after I regained consciousness were made of pain medication, fluorescent light, and voices that seemed to arrive from the far end of a tunnel.
My throat hurt from the ventilator.
My left arm was wrapped from wrist to elbow.
My ribs felt as if someone had filled them with broken glass.
The first face I recognized was my mother’s.
Ellen Bennett sat beside my hospital bed with oxygen tubing under her nose and fury in her eyes.
“Mama?”
Her mouth collapsed.
“Oh, baby.”
She touched my hair carefully, avoiding the tape and wires.
“You scared ten years off my life.”
“You didn’t have ten to spare.”
She laughed and cried at the same time.
That was when I noticed the ring.
Gold.
Simple.
Heavy.
On my left hand.
I stared at it.
“Mama.”
She went very still.
“What is this?”
Her eyes moved toward the door.
I followed them.
Dominic Rossi stood outside my room speaking to a doctor.
He wore a charcoal suit instead of a tuxedo. No tie. His jaw was shadowed with two days of stubble.
My pulse monitor quickened.
“Why is he here?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Please don't panic.”
Those are the worst four words in the English language.
“What happened?”
“You were in danger.”
“I got shot. I noticed.”
“No. After.”
She explained that the man who ordered the attack knew I survived.
She explained that the hospital had increased security.
She explained that Dominic believed my identity would be harder to reach if I became part of his protected family.
Then she stopped.
I looked at the ring again.
“No.”
“Mara—”
My name sounded wrong in the hospital room.
“No.”
The door opened.
Dominic entered.
I had never seen a man look so composed while walking directly toward his own execution.
“You married me?” I asked.
My voice cracked.
He stopped six feet from the bed.
“Yes.”
“While I was unconscious?”
“Yes.”
My mother muttered something about calling the nurse.
I held up my good hand.
“No. Stay.”
Dominic's eyes never left mine.
“Who gave consent?”
“The priest performed a private religious ceremony. The legal documents were prepared under emergency proxy authority and—”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
“You forged my consent?”
“No.”
“Did I say yes?”
“No.”
“Then you married an unconscious woman who did not say yes.”
A muscle moved in his jaw.
“Yes.”
My monitor began beeping faster.
The nurse appeared immediately.
Dominic stepped back.
“Ms. Bennett needs calm,” she said.
“Mrs. Rossi,” my mother corrected automatically, then looked horrified with herself.
I turned my head slowly.
“Mama.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic almost smiled.
I hated him for that almost-smile.
The nurse checked my blood pressure.
“Everyone out except one family member.”
“I’m her husband,” Dominic said.
“You are the reason her blood pressure is rising,” the nurse replied.
I loved that woman instantly.
Dominic left.
My mother stayed.
The moment the door closed, I whispered, “Why did you let him?”
Her face crumpled.
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I found out after.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“He had already done it.”
Anger moved through me so quickly it almost cut through the medication.
Then my mother added, “But, Mara, I think he saved my life too.”
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“The men watching the treatment center.”
Cold spread beneath my skin.
“What men?”
“Two strangers came asking about you the morning after the shooting. They said they were reporters.”
“They weren’t?”
“Dominic's people arrived first.”
I closed my eyes.
Victor Costa.
I knew the name now because the detectives had said it around me while believing I was asleep.
My mother squeezed my fingers.
“Dominic moved me here under another name.”
“Where?”
“Cardiac floor. Two levels down.”
That explained the oxygen.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I’m your mother. I could be missing a leg and I’d still come upstairs.”
I started to laugh and immediately regretted it because my ribs screamed.
For the next two days, Dominic did not enter my room without permission.
He sent doctors.
Lawyers.
Security.
Clothes for my mother.
He paid the balance at the Cleveland treatment center and arranged a specialist in Manhattan.
I hated every kindness because each one made it harder to reduce him to a single word like monster.
On the third morning, I asked to see him.
He entered alone.
I lifted my left hand.
“Take it off.”
His eyes dropped to the ring.
“If you want.”
“I do.”
He crossed the room and carefully touched my swollen finger.
His hands were warm.
The ring would not move.
My finger had swollen around it.
He tried once, gently.
I winced.
He stopped immediately.
“We’ll cut it.”
“Fine.”
He called for a ring cutter.
For some reason, that made me angrier.
“You don't care?”
He looked at me.
“About the ring?”
“About the marriage.”
His expression changed.
“I care whether you live.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then I remembered something Isabella had said while drifting in and out of consciousness.
A file.
Dominic had a file.
I looked at him.
“Why did you already know who I was?”
He went completely still.
There it was.
The first real crack in his control.
I pushed harder.
“Before the shooting.”
He said nothing.
“Enzo had a file on me.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You heard that?”
“I hear more than people think.”
“Mara—”
“Why did you have my address?”
He did not answer.
“Why did you have my mother's medical records?”
His jaw tightened.
I felt my heart begin to race.
The monitor betrayed me immediately.
Dominic looked at it, then back at me.
“This is not the time.”
“Then when?”
“When your heart can handle the answer.”
I laughed once.
It hurt.
“That's convenient.”
He leaned closer, not threatening, but intense enough that I forgot the pain for a second.
“If I tell you now, you will try to leave this hospital before you can stand.”
“Maybe.”
“And Victor Costa will find you before the elevator reaches the lobby.”
“You don’t get to decide my life.”
His face hardened.
“I already made that mistake once.”
He looked at the gold ring still trapped on my finger.
“I will not make it twice.”
Then he walked out.
The ring cutter arrived ten minutes later.
I sent him away.
Not because I forgave Dominic.
Because I wanted answers before I decided what the ring meant.
That afternoon, Enzo entered carrying a brown folder.
He set it on my bedside table.
“Boss said you asked.”
My pulse jumped.
“Is that my file?”
“Yes.”
“Can I read it?”
Enzo looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“He told me not to give it to you.”
“Yet here you are.”
He sighed.
“I have a weakness for women who get shot seven times saving old ladies.”
Isabella's voice came from the doorway.
“I am not old.”
Enzo closed his eyes.
I almost smiled.
Isabella entered, elegant even in a hospital cardigan.
She looked at the file.
Then at me.
“If you open that, sweetheart, you should know one thing first.”
“What?”
May you like
She sat beside my bed.
“Your father did not die the way your mother told you.”
