Chapter 12. Set the Place on Fire

BELLADONNA

I stood before the mirror, staring, and the mirror stared back at me. It was the day of the wedding—yay me—but joy was the last thing I felt. 

The week had rushed by before I could even draw a breath. Usually, I would be thrilled, but ever seen that day at the cafe, I've been anything but. He hasn't called me since then. I haven't even seen his shadow. 

“He’s going to make this difficult,” I muttered. 

“Who?” Gianna asked, holding my veil. 

“My husband–to–be.” I turned away from the mirror, facing her. “What do you think of him?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I can't figure him out.”

“You’ve met your match then.” 

A knock came at the door, and it opened. Papa walked in slowly, a small smile on his face. 

“La mia bambina,” he whispered, his arms wide open. I stepped in, burying my face in his neck and he wrapped his arms around me, patting my hair. “I'm sorry it has to be this way. I wish my