The doors opened, we stepped inside and two hundred heads turned simultaneously, and not a single one of them looked happy. Apart from the traditional Italian music playing in the background, this had to be the most disturbingly somber wedding reception in recent history. The expected chatter was absent. No one spoke, or laughed. They all just sat in their chairs, looking miserable. My stomach tensed as I passed each table and they simply turned away, refusing to acknowledge me. Even my own family members.

It hurt especially when Zio Como stood, threw his linen napkin down on the table and thundered away in the opposite direction.

Even with my sister by my side, it was clear. I was utterly alone.

We approached the bridal table. My heart began to race when Ettore stood and walked around to meet us, not stopping until we were toe-to-toe. Now that I had a second to take him in, I noticed things I hadn’t before.

He towered over me in a way that made me feel small and insignificant. His hazel eyes had a touch of forest green in them. And he was muscular enough to knock me down with the slightest wave of his hand.

Ettore looked as though he might have considered doing just that.

I had never been very good at hiding my emotions so I knew what he saw right then was a girl who was terrified of him. And then he sighed, holding out a hand to me. I turned to my sister in panic. Without a care for my fragile disposition, she handed me over to this… this… beast of a man. Our hands touched and I blanched. His palm curled around mine and I fought the urge to hyperventilate. When he began to walk us towards our chairs, I almost dug my heels in, refusing to go. But, instead, I did what was expected of me.

Like the good girl I was, I complied.

Ettore helped me to my chair, pushing it in after me, then took the seat to my left. Vincenza sat unassisted to my right. And there we remained, soundlessly, for what seemed like hours.

During that time, a man approached our table, smiling, with a camera in hand. I noticed my husband tense until his body was rigid as a flagpole. I sat up dutifully as the man lifted the camera and just as he was about to take the shot, Ettore stood so quickly that his chair warbled loudly in the quiet space, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

The man with the camera stilled when Ettore loomed, glowering savagely at him.

The cameraman quickly got the hint, put up his hands in placation and backed away.