The Mafia Don’s Vetoed Bride

My family, the Barones, had a rule we called the Veto. Each immediate family member had one veto per year to use on a major family decision. If anyone used their veto, the decision had to be put on hold for twelve months, no matter how important it was. I had been engaged to Don Luca Falcone for five years. My family had vetoed our wedding five times. My father said I was too young. My mother said marriage wasn’t something to rush into. Both my older brothers had taken turns stopping me, too. By the fifth year, no one had a veto left to use. Then, three days before the wedding, my mother suddenly died of an illness. Everyone said we couldn’t possibly have a wedding so soon after her death. We would have to postpone it another year. I cried beside her coffin all night. The next morning, I heard my oldest brother, Matteo, sigh inside the study. “Everyone had already used their veto this year. Having Mom fake her death was the only option.” My other brother, Nico, spoke next. “Elena just had the baby. Once she’s recovered, we can bring Mom back.” I froze outside the door. Then I heard Luca. “Keep it from her for now.” “Whatever you do, don’t let her find out Elena and I got married in Lugano.” “She’s already waited five years. One more won’t hurt.” The mother I had spent all night mourning wasn’t dead. My best friend, Elena Russo, had given birth to my fiancé’s child. I stood outside that door for a long time. Then I took off the engagement ring I had worn for five years. Since everyone was so determined to stop me from marrying Luca Falcone, they wouldn’t need to veto me this time. …… I didn’t open the study door. They were still talking inside. Matteo lowered his voice. “She was on her knees all night. What if something actually happens to her?” My father sighed. “She cried for a few days every other time we canceled the wedding. Then she got over it.” “I’ll talk her into it,” Luca said calmly. “Once things settle down with Elena, we’ll figure out how to bring Marina back.” My father’s voice softened. “Elena lost her parents so young. She needs someone with her at a time like this.” Matteo sighed, too. “She’s always been terrified of being alone in a hospital.” “When her mother died, she waited outside the hospital all night by herself. She’s been scared of hospitals ever since.” Outside the door, I felt my fingers slowly go cold. Elena Russo had come to live with us when she was sixteen. Her father had been one of my dad’s closest friends. He had died at the scene of a car accident after saving my father’s life. Two years later, her mother died of an illness. Ever since then, my parents had said the Barones owed her a life. My mother loved her like her own daughter. Whenever my brothers had something good to share, they always thought of her first. The whole family started planning her birthdays a month in advance. When she was sick, Matteo would cancel meetings to stay with her all night. When she said she was afraid of thunderstorms, Nico would drive two hours in the middle of the night to be with her. I had never thought anything of it. I was even the one who had taken Luca’s hand and told him, “Elena doesn’t have any family left. We should look out for her, too.” I just hadn’t realized that looking out for her would eventually mean giving her my fiancé, my wedding, and my mother. To them, even my mother’s death and another canceled wedding were just things I would cry about for a few days. I turned and went back to the room where we were holding the wake. My mother’s photograph stood in the center of the display in front of her coffin. The day she had “died,” my father said her body was badly damaged. The casket would stay closed, and I wasn’t allowed to see her one last time. I had cried and begged. Matteo had physically blocked the doorway. “Mom always cared about how she looked.” “She wouldn’t want you to remember her like that.” So I had spent the entire night sobbing at the prayer kneeler. Now I knew she had never been inside that closed coffin. She was in Lugano, Switzerland, helping take care of Elena and Luca's baby. “Vivi.” I hadn’t heard Luca come up behind me. He draped his jacket over my shoulders, then crouched down and gently rubbed my swollen knees. “Don’t do this to yourself.” “Your mom would hate to see you hurting.” He said it so naturally that I almost laughed. Five years ago, he had knelt in front of me just like this when he proposed. “Every time someone vetoes us, I’ll wait another year.” “Vivienne Barone, you're the only woman I'll ever marry—no matter how long it takes.” So when my father vetoed the wedding the first year, I waited. When my mother vetoed it the second year, I waited. The third year, it was Matteo. The fourth, Nico. The fifth year, they found another excuse. Every time I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe, Luca held me and said, “Just a little longer.” “You’re the one I’ll marry in the end.” Now he wiped away my tears. “Next year.” “I promise I’ll give you an even better wedding next year.” I forced a smile. “Okay. I’ll wait.” The relief on his face was obvious. Just then, our wedding planner, Ms. Albright, called. “Miss Barone, Don Falcone told me the wedding has been postponed.” “He also asked us not to cancel the flowers or desserts. He wants them sent to Switzerland instead.” She read me an address in Lugano. My grip tightened around the phone. That was the city where Elena had given birth. There were 9,999 white roses. I had spent three months choosing them. He had promised I would walk toward him through a sea of flowers on our wedding day. The wedding was gone. At least they had found a use for the flowers. “I don’t want them,” I said quietly. Ms. Albright paused. “I’m sorry?” “The flowers. The cake. Cancel them.” “Get refunds on everything you can.” After hanging up, I called my lawyer, Mr. Crane. “Draw up an agreement terminating my engagement.” “And put the house in Tribeca we were going to live in after the wedding on the market.” He sounded surprised. “Miss Barone, should we speak to Don Falcone—” “There’s no need.” I watched Luca light a candle for me in front of my mother’s photograph and smiled. “It’s my house. And my engagement.” “I’ll handle them myself.”