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“Why is life so cruel?” I let the word tumble out of my lips before she can leave. All the tears I’m holding back are threatening to ruin the makeup artist's hard work.
“Life is what you make of it, Madalina.” She offers me a hopeful smile before she leaves.
It’s just me and my father in the back of the car that takes us to the church, and I can sense that he has much to say to me as we get closer. Still, his lips remain closed and his body rigid.
“The weather is nice.” I make polite conversation with him when the silence between us becomes unbearable.
“Yes, a beautiful day for it,” he agrees, keeping his eyes on the footwell.
“Do you thin–”
“I’m sorry.” He interrupts me with two simple words that I never expected him to say, and when I turn my head and see the hurt on his face, I have to quickly look away again. “I hopeyou understand. I hope you know how much I love you.” I can hear the pain in his voice, and as much as I want to question him, or yell, or beg for him to make all this stop, I know it would be hopeless. Instead, I think about my brother and what he’s had to endure because he was born a boy. Nicolas has been shot at, he’s been beaten. He’s put his life on the line for this family, and my father does the same. We all have our sacrifices to make. This is mine.
“I understand,” I tell him, looking out the window as we pass through the streets of New York.
“I had no choice in this, Madalina, and yes, I stand to gain from it, but once DeMarco made up his mind over who would replace the Fabriano girl, my hands were tied.”
“Why me? His son doesn’t even like me. We will hate each other.” I clutch the pretty bouquet I’m holding in my hands and do all I can to hold in my tears.
“You are young, you are pretty, and you will make fine heirs.” Just the thought of that makes me shudder. “Add to that the fact that Thadeo knows how eager I am to please him, it makes sense. I’ve proven myself to him by keeping my district controlled, despite all its challenges. I had no idea that in doing so I would be costing you this.” When I open my eyes and see his head hanging in shame, I force away all my hatred and slide my fingers between his.
“I’ll be okay. I’m made of strong stuff.” I manage a smile for him because I may be going into this a little scared, but I’m not going into it blind. And knowing that Dario DeMarco will be hating this just as much as I am, almost makes it sufferable.
DARIO
Isee her walking toward me, on her father’s arm. Her dress is exquisite, it clings to her in all the right places, and yet I find myself irritated by the fact her veil covers her face entirely. I’d like to see the displeased scowl that is undoubtedly on her face as she steps toward her new husband.
We are surrounded by an over-elaborately decorated room and crowds of people who mean nothing to either her, or me. All our guests have been strategically selected by my father, gathered here to witness the ceremony that brings me one step closer to leading them.
“At least she showed.” Vito, my best man, utters under his breath, and when I turn my attention away from her and see the clever grin on his face, I shake my head.
“It would have been more than what her life is worth not to,” I remind him, and myself, of the fact that Madalina Conte had no choice but to show, no one refuses my father.
Alfeo Conte looks so proud when he reaches the top of the altar and presents his daughter's hand to me. And why wouldn’t he be? He has just earned himself the best district in our city, and lifetime security for his family. It’s a security thatwill be needed if his son continues to make such careless mistakes.
The priest encourages me with a nod of his head, and when I slowly lift the veil from my bride's face, I’m quite surprised at what I uncover.
There is no denying that Madalina is pretty, I saw that in the seventeen-year-old girl who vexed me at her father’s house two years ago, but what I’m seeing here now almost knocks me back on my ass.
The look on her face is just as stubborn as it was back then, though her eyelashes have been extended, and the gloss on her lips is making me wonder how it would feel to slip my cock between them.I guess being her husband gives me the privilege of finding out.
She looks up at me through those lashes, with a smirk on her face, the kind that warns of trouble. And I smile at her out of pity, because she may be confident now but she hasn’t got a clue what’s coming to her.
The priest gets on with his words, and the long, drawn-out traditional service my father insisted upon seems to go on forever. Madalina doesn’t break eye contact with me for the entirety of it, and when she speaks her vows, I don’t miss the way her voice expels them as if they are a threat. Leading up to this, all I've thought about doing is breaking that spirit I witnessed when we first met. It’s hard to believe that here I am, amused by it enough to actually consider letting her keep it.
The ceremony finally ends and the priest turns us around to face the congregation so he can announce to them all that we are man and wife. Mr. and Mrs. DeMarco. The future of the New York underworld. As hard as the girl tries, she can’t keep the sourness off her face, especially when I stick with tradition and use this opportunity to give my wife her first kiss. Ilead her into a false sense of security when my lips gently press against hers, then decide to dash it away just as quickly as I move my mouth up to her ear.
“I hope you’re still wearing that fake smile for me tonight when I’m fucking all the sass out of your virgin cunt,” I whisper, causing her to hold her breath, and when I pull back and see the slight quiver on her lips, the satisfaction of her reaction already gets my cock hard.
We spend the rest of the day being congratulated by our guests, there is no time for conversation between us, and even if there was, I doubt we would have much to say to each other. Madalina plays her part well, smiling from the top table, almost appearing to be grateful that she will be bonded to me for the rest of her life.
We cut the six-tiered cake, we dance a first dance, and when the guests start to leave and the car that will take us to her new home arrives she starts to show little glimpses of her nerves.
My new wife kisses her father and step-mother goodbye, while her brother gives me a look of warning. It’s amusing to think he considers himself a threat to me, amusing enough that I decide not to make him pay for it, and as I take my bride's hand and lead her toward the car I notice that her palm feels clammy against mine.
My driver opens the door for her, and when she gets inside and realizes I’m coming straight in after, she maneuvers the train of her long, lace gown and slides across the seat to make space for me. Lots of space, which makes it perfectly clear how she feels about this arrangement.
The car pulls away, and the silence descends as we make our way towards our home.
