Russian Roulette: Family secrets [2021 version]

Ch. 70: I'll do it right this time

It was with a sense of fulfillment that Mackenzie walked from the private chapel across the courtyard to the castle where the wedding party would be held.

Vittorio had spared no expense, making his reunion with his wife a spectacular show and a memorable day for them both. He had rented an entire castle as the wedding venue, bought out all the rooms for privacy, and basically taken over the place.

The good thing about that castle was the private chapel.

Though he would have wanted to get married at John Lateran Cathedral in Rome, he had also wanted the castle because of the grand ballroom and beautiful scenery as a setting. Since he and Patricia got married in Rome the first time, he had opted for the more romantic solution the second time around.

Mackenzie had never seen her parents as happy or in love, and they had been sickeningly in love when she was a child. As an adult, she noticed the little things better; the way her mother had proudly walked up the aisle with Mackenzie beside her as her Maid of Honor and to give her away, or back to Vittorio, as it were.

She had noticed how Patricia blushed like a schoolgirl when Vittorio had said his vows. How her father had puffed up like a peacock the moment he had laid eyes on Patricia in the chapel. He had barely blinked all the while she walked toward him, which was quite impressive with the tears streaming down his face. How they both had never stopped smiling or touching every chance they got. Nothing big and noticeable, just a few fingers trailing the other's hand, or a swift rub against the other's arm, their foreheads meeting in a silent, secret conversation without words.

The ceremony had been solemn and emotional.

And beautiful.

Vittorio in a full penguin suit, with tailcoat, vest, and pants, all in a silvery grey and with a crisp white shirt, with his tie and pocket handkerchief in a black and silver pattern. His boutonniere was untraditionally a small binding of purple-blueish Freesia, Patricia's favorite flower. He had looked as handsome as ever, and about twenty years younger even with his grey hair, because of the love shining in his dark eyes and the softness of his face.

Patricia had pre-bought a nice mother-of-the-bride suit with a skirt, silk blouse, and blazer in a classic Queen of England style which would have made her look pretty but not like a bride.

Boring!

It had been a wedding fashion intervention when Mackenzie had taken her mother to a room to try on wedding dresses. She had convinced her father to get a selection shipped there with a seamstress and a fitter from one of the top bridal shops in Rome.

Vittorio had more than happily obliged Mackenzie's request. He, too, had wanted Patricia to look and feel like a bride.

Age and time had no meaning. A bride should look like a bride.

Naturally and understandably, Patricia had feared to show her scars, but they had found a fully covering dress in pearl white made from silk organza. Tightly fit to her still beautiful figure but with a flowing skirt without the poof and a waterfall effect in the back outside the tight-fitting bodice. Beadwork and embroidery on the front of the bodice gave the dress life and elegance.

Nobody would see her scars.

Scars, which Vittorio had promised her she could have removed whenever she wished, though, with the amount and placement of some, there could be new and more difficult scarring. But he had researched possible methods of reducing them, which Mackenzie too was interested in knowing about.

The dress had been the right choice.

Patricia had glowed in that dress, looking every bit the blushing bride, walking to meet the love of her life. Her hair, which still had more dark than grey, despite her age, a stylist had made up in a swirled updo with a sparkling tiara and no veil.