Page 15 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
“I did.”
“Which one is she? They have some very beautiful choices.”
“You wouldn’t know this one.”
“It’s possible,” he says. “I have been a fan of the company for years.”
“They are all the same.”
He makes a humming noise as if denoting agreement. “Did you get the brandy? It isn’t much, but it’s my customary gift at a time like this.”
We hang up after I thank him for the fine bottle of liquor, passing both the phone and bottle off to Umberto again.
It’s once I’m off the phone that my impatience grows and I check my watch.
The ceremony begins with Ms. Poitier—her walking in tells me Nevaeh’s ready.
She takes her seat at the piano, arranging her sheet of music and pressing her fingers to the keys. The first note of Pachelbel’s Canon in D plays, filling out the huge vacant space with the gentle melody.
I’m at the manmade altar beside the minister I’ve coerced into presiding over today’s ceremony. He clutches his Bible with nails biting into the leatherbound book and tension pulling at his mouth. His best efforts can’t hide the fact that he’s resentful that he has to do this. The alternative was having his dirty secret revealed to his congregation. As it turns out, a god-fearing man like him has a huge gambling problem, and even huger debts to pay off.
It doesn’t matter how he feels. So long as he does what he’s supposed to, I couldn’t give less of a fuck.
Another moment passes as the music twinkles on, and I stare down the aisle.
Nevaeh appears seconds before my patience wears thin. It would be beneficial for no one if I had to go drag her out. Least of all for Nevaeh.
She stands at the far end of the aisle in an ivory gown that’s draped delicately against her dark skin. Simple yet divine like the angel she is.
Her hair’s loose waves cascade about her shoulders. So often her chocolate brown hair’s slicked down into severe buns, even in my dreams, that it feels rebellious seeing her like this.
Soon we’ll be exploring all the different ways she’s untamed—andthe ways in which I will tame her.
We’ll be bound for life. We’ll be avowed ’til death.
The music plays on as Nevaeh takes slow steps down the aisle. There’s a softness about her expression despite the worried knit of her brows and sadness dimming her eyes.
Our marriage may be daunting for her, but in time, she’ll adjust.
And should she never do so, then her life will be that much more miserable and brutal.
She finally reaches the altar, turning to face me.
“Shall we begin?” the minister asks, opening his leatherbound Bible to a hand-written note bookmarked inside. “We’re here today to celebrate the union of Caelian and Nevaeh Ziccardi. Marriage is perhaps the greatest and most challenging adventure of any human relationship. No ceremony can create your marriage—only you can do that through kindness and patience. Dedication and understanding. Talking and listening. Supporting and helping and believing in each other.”
Nevaeh sniffles and tears her gaze away from mine. As if she can’t possibly bear to look at me as these flowery words are recited.
I grit my teeth. Can she not pretend even for a few minutes?
“Tenderness and laughter,” the minster goes on. “Learning to forgive and appreciate your differences. But most importantly love and cherish—”
“Skip this part,” I snarl moodily. “None of that is important. Get to the declaration.”
“Errr… right. Will you, Caelian, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Yes, yes. What else would I say?”
The minister rolls his lips together but ultimately bites his tongue, knowing any outburst would severely cost him. He turns to Nevaeh. “And will you, Nevaeh, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”