Arranged Mafia Marriage

Axel

“Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three…” I count as I balance the weight of my body in plank position. “Fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six.” My biceps tremble and my thighs scream in protest. Fuck, if I haven’t become a complete weakling. I used to be able to hold this position until the count of one-thousand. Now, apparently, I can’t even get to one-hundred.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine,” I grunt as my core protests. The blood thuds at my temples. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I try to maintain my balance. “Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two.” My head hurts, my quadriceps groan, and every muscle in my body seems to seize up. Sweat drips down my temples and down my chin to plop on the floor below me.

“F-u-c-k,” I growl as my arms give way from under me. I face-plant on the floor and lay there unmoving. My breath comes in pants; my muscles are on fire. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s going to take me time to build up my endurance again. And I am getting married in a few days.

It’s been a full day since I walked out of Theresa’s bathroom, after making that statement about my perversions. My intent had been to scare her, and I must have succeeded, for I haven’t seen her since. To be fair, I have been throwing myself into my rehabilitation. I work with Sheena on the prescribed exercises, then throw myself into working out in my own time. I know I am pushing it, but I don’t care. I need to keep myself occupied, or else, I am in danger of walking into her room, throwing her down on her bed, and burying myself inside her sweet pussy… Something I want to resist until we are married. Not that it matters. I already took her virginity, after all. I pause. Holdonasecond-is that why she wants to marry me? Because I was her first?

Theresa doesn’t strike me as a traditional girl. I had wanted to find out more about my future wife so I had used the phone loaned to me by the Sovranos to search her online.

I hadn’t found much of a presence on the social media networks. I had, however, stumbled across the Instagram feed for her shop The Tilting Tulip. All of the pictures were of flowers. Apparently, the woman doesn’t believe in showing her face to the camera. There was one picture which showed her back and that of another girl with #bestsister ever. And another, where her profile was visible on screen. The picture shows her working on an arrangement of tulips, a beam of sunlight accentuating her hair and the flowers. There was something arresting about the image. The photographer had captured the serenity on her face as she’d focused on the flowers. Has she ever looked at me with that much singular attention? A hot sensation had stabbed at my chest. I couldn’t believe that I was jealous of flowers.

I had clicked out of the Instagram feed at once. All I had learned was that she loves what she does. Judging by her nearly thirty-thousand followers and the comments on the pictures, her flower shop is also doing really well. She had looked gorgeous in the picture. So vital, so full of life… Thank god, I had stepped in front of her and taken the bullet for her. If it had hurt her in any way, I would have never been able to forgive myself. After all, it had been my fault that the shooter had had her in his crosshairs.

Now that I am able to recall the events leading up to my shooting at Christian, I confess, it’s only confusing me more. Who is the person who shot at her? Were they aiming at me? Or maybe, Christian? No, it was meant for me. It had to be; so why had they shot at her instead? Unless they had wanted to send a message. To me or to the Sovranos?

My head spins, and it’s not entirely due to my overexertion combined with my recent head wound, which is not fully healed. This entire situation is a mess. It reeks of being a trap. But that’s not possible. Whoever had shot at us, wouldn’t have expected me to step in front of her. Or had they shot at her, knowing I’d get in front of her? No, that doesn’t make sense. And why would they shoot at her, anyway? Is it because she’s under the protection of the Sovranos? Was the intention to show them that their security doesn’t hold up to scrutiny? I push myself onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

And why had the Sovranos accepted me without punishing me for what I had done? Is the fact that I am marrying Theresa enough reason to stop them from coming for me in the future? Can I trust Michael to deliver on his promise of giving me a seat at their table?

I push up to my feet and my legs hold up my weight. Thank fuck. I walk into the bathroom, take a quick shower, then pull on a pair of pants and a shirt. All made of the finest material, perfectly altered to my size and measurements. You have to hand it to the Sovranos-they know how to embrace a lifestyle many desire, yet very few can access.

The kind of life my mother had left behind… And one which I am entering in flagrant contradiction of her wishes. But I have to; it’s the only way to get revenge for what these bastards did to her.

They are responsible for her early death, and I am going to get my revenge for it through marriage. Once Theresa is in my grasp, the Sovranos will experience the kind of emotional torment that my mother went through. But she is innocent; she isn’t responsible for what happened to your mother. Well, too-fucking-bad. She’ll be collateral damage in the plan I am enacting- a plan for which I’d rather she be compliant than not. Which means, it’s best I try to put her at ease. At least, until the wedding.

I pull on my socks and shoes, pocket my phone and wallet-also provided to me by the Sovranos, since I hadn’t been carrying any forms of ID on me when I’d been shot. Much as I loathe to use money provided by Michael, I don’t have a choice. It’s only a matter of time before I am involved in the day-to-day affairs of the Cosa Nostra. I’ll be pulling more than my fair share of weight in their business then. Besides, part of their wealth does belong to me by birthright. After all, I was born into it as much as they were. Besides, they owe me for everything that happened to my mother. So no, I have zero guilt in using their resources to get what I want.

I head out of my room, up the corridor, past the door to Sheena’s room, which is shut, and into Theresa’s suite at the end of the corridor.

I raise my hand to knock on the door, then change my mind. Best to use the element of surprise. I twist the doorknob, walk into the living room of the suite, and find it’s empty. I check the bathroom and the bedroom, but she’s not there. The scent of her envelops me and the blood drains to my groin. Fuck. Where the hell is she? I had explicitly told her not to leave the house without my permission. Bet that’s precisely why she decided to go out. Couldn’t stop herself from trying to defy me, eh? I twist my lips. Another challenge she’s thrown down at me, and this time, I am going to show her the consequences of going against me.

I rise to my feet and begin to pace, slowly. Does she think I am not strong enough to leave the house? Well, she hasn’t reckoned with how much I have been pushing myself. I may not have one-hundred percent of my normal strength, but fuck, I am no longer a weakling either.

I pull up Seb’s number on my phone and dial.

“Yes, it’s me.”