Arranged Mafia Marriage

Axel

I stare straight ahead past the priest, at the beautiful stained-glass window that soars above us. The light from the sun pours through the pane, illuminating the yellows and blues and splintering into the colors of the rainbow which fill the space.

“You okay?” Seb’s low voice sounds next to me.

I’m not, but I will be. “Yeah,” I nod without turning to glance at him.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” this from Massimo who flanks my other side.

Yep, the Sovranos had turned out in full force to support me on the day of reckoning, aka, my wedding. My bloody wedding, in a bloody church

My ma had insisted on going to Mass every Sunday. She may have tried to leave her Mafia roots behind, but her faith in the One Above had never been shaken. It’s why, after she died, I never went back. What was the use of believing in God when he had basically decided that your life was going to be a shit show and no matter how much you prayed, it was going to stay a shit show? What explanation could there be for how my mother’s life had turned out? When I had dared to point that out to her, she had cuffed me on the head and told me never to repeat those blasphemous words again. So instead, I have decided to enter this marriage under false pretenses and have the lie blessed by Him. Well, why not? I’ve committed enough crimes, so what’s adding one more to the mix, eh?

“Axel,” Massimo’s voice prompts me, “you sure you’re okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I run a finger around the collar of my button-down shirt. At least I hadn’t been guilted into wearing a tie. I blow out a breath, then roll my neck, trying to work out some of the tension in my shoulders.

“It will be over all too soon,” Seb reassures me.

“Then all you have to do is contend with the ol’ ball and chain for the rest of your life,” Luca drawls.

“Shut the fuck up, Luca,” Seb snaps.

“Not saying anything that the rest of us aren’t thinking,” Luca chortles.

“The fuck are you doing?” Adrian admonishes him, “Man’s already nervous-”

“I am not nervous.”

“Okay, man’s not nervous but he can’t help sweating, even though it’s freezing right now in church and-”

I turn on Adrian, who raises both hands, “Sorry, fratellino, just trying to lighten the atmosphere.”

“Well, don’t,” I growl, then turn back to my perusal of the goddam window. Tell me again, why the hell did I agree to this? Oh, yeah, because it’s the only way to put my plan in motion-to get revenge on the Sovranos, once and for all. And if, during that process, she gets hurt… Well, too bad. There’s always collateral damage, after all. Wasn’t I the collateral damage in the tussle between my mother and the Sovrano family, after all. And if they hadn’t let her go, if my father had been a better man, if my Nonna had intervened, my mother might still be alive today. But she’s gone, and I am here, and I am finally going to get my revenge for her death.

“One tip for you,” Seb leans close.

“Not interested,” I snap.

“Oh, I think you should listen to this one,” Massimo cautions.

“It’s about the kiss,” Seb adds.

“Kiss?” I shoot him a sideways glance. Like the others, he’s dressed in a black suit, with a bowtie and hair slicked back. Together, they look like the quintessential Mafia clan, the kind you’d see in movies. Only, this is my life and I need every bit of focus I can muster. “You were saying?” I murmur as I take in the slight bulge at his hip under his jacket. Yep, they are all packing, except me. Not that I’ve had access to one. Not that I had asked. Michael had offered and I had turned it down. I wanted nothing to distract from the wedding and I wanted all of them to be lulled into a state of complacency.

“The priests here don’t like more than a chaste peck on the cheek after the wedding.”

“Eh?” I scowl.

“But don’t let that stop you from kissing the bride.”

“Thanks for the fucking tip,” I glower at him.

“You’re welcome.” He smirks.

I roll my shoulders, and this time, Massimo slaps me on the back. “Relax, Champ, you’ve got this.”

Right.

On the pews, people shuffle their feet, someone coughs, a baby cries out and is shushed.

“Think Nonna forgot to invite anyone?” I ask.

“Nope,” Seb chuckles, “it’s tradition. Whenever a Sovrano gets married, everyone turns out. Somehow, Michael managed to get away with a low-key wedding. Since then, she’s sworn that each time one of us gets married she is going to make sure it’s a bigger wedding than the last.”

No kidding. Once more, I glance around at the huge arrangements of flowers that fill the space. It’s quite beautiful, actually, and the entire place smells like a garden. Roses, lilies, hibiscus…orange blossoms. I stiffen. The hair on the back of my neck rises. On cue, the church organ strikes up the wedding march.

“This is it,” Seb whispers, “and just so you know, I have the rings.”

The rings that Nonna had chosen and which I had gone along with. To be honest, I had barely paid any attention to them when Seb had shown them to me earlier. It doesn’t matter, really-not when this entire wedding is a sham. So why does everything feel so much more real right now?

A ripple runs through the crowd and I know she’s walking down the aisle. Massimo draws in a breath, “Mamma Mia, she’s beautiful.”

I refuse to turn.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Gesu Cristo, she’s a vision.” Adrian slaps my shoulder, “You are a lucky son of a bitch.”

I wince, stare straight ahead.

“Whoa,” Seb gasps, “what the hell is she wearing?”

What the fuck? If she’s wearing something that exposes too much of her I’ll-I turn to watch her approach and promptly forget to breathe.

She walks toward me dressed in a simple white gown that covers her shoulders with a high collar at the back and a simple neckline that hints at her cleavage without exposing anything. The lace and pearl covered bodice stretches across her gorgeous breasts. The sleeves are a lace lattice that stretch all the way to her wrists. The dress itself cinches at her waist, then flows down in a simple A-line skirt to her ankles. It’s tight enough to show off her curves without being obscene in any way. On her head, she wears a delicate tiara from which her veil floats over her face. In her hands, she holds a burst of pink and white orange blossoms. Her other hand is threaded through Michael’s.

She had mentioned to me that her father uses a walker, but I didn’t realize she’d asked Michael to walk her down the aisle instead. I should have known about this, right? But then, I hadn’t been interested in finding out any details about the wedding. Not when it didn’t mean anything to me. It doesn’t. So why can’t I take my gaze off of her as she comes to a pause in front of me? Why is my heart beating so fast? Why is my pulse pounding at my temples? Sweat pools under my armpits as Michael smiles down at her, then leans around her in my direction. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you.” His smile widens as he grips my shoulder, then steps back.

I take in the paleness of her cheeks, visible through the lace of her veil.

I turn to face the priest, who begins to drone. I draw in a breath, then another, forcing myself to focus. Focus. All of my senses click into place. The voices fade away. My muscles relax. My vision tunnels. At the right time, I turn to face her and say my vows, as does she. Then Seb hands us the rings. I slide the ornate gold band over her finger, accept the simple gold band on mine.

Then, before the priest has completed his sentence, I close the distance to her. Her green gaze clashes with mine. I raise her veil and my breath catches. A hot sensation stabs in my chest. She’s beautiful, innocent, and doesn’t deserve what is going to come. And I don’t deserve what happened to me either. I gather her in my arms and kiss her.

Her breath hitches, the muscles of her body tense, then she melts into me. I haul her close enough that her breasts flatten against my chest. Her lips cling to mine then part, and I sweep my tongue inside her mouth. I tilt my mouth, deepen the kiss, and a moan trembles up her throat. I swallow it, suck on her tongue, ravish her mouth for a second longer, then I tear my mouth from hers. The clapping and the cheers from the assembled crowd wash over me. I stare down at her trembling lips, her wide gaze as my chest rises and falls.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Axel, what are you going to do?”

I bare my teeth as I release her, “I am going to take my revenge.”

She shakes her head, opens her mouth, but I am already moving. I pivot on my heel, grab Seb’s gun from his holster, then turn. I spin her around and haul her to me, then point the gun at Michael.

“Down,” I snarl, “get the fuck down.”