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MY UNWEDDING
CRISTINA
The fake wedding ceremony went ahead as planned, the guests none the wiser that Gio Mancini, my late father’s best friend, his long-time business partner, and the prime minister of Isola Serenella , and I never married.
Not officially by the church, at least.
At the altar, while friends and family watched from the nave behind us, Father Thomas performed the ceremony, all the while trembling at the mere presence of Gio’s best man, his nephew, Severio Mancini, the Head of the Serpentine Order, which my father had joined before he passed away barely a year ago.
Severio is said to be one of the most powerful people in the world. And he stopped our marriage, forbade Gio from signing his name next to mine in the marriage registry.
When I asked for the reason Severio ordered the ceremony to proceed, with the understanding the marriage would be invalid, Gio became angry and secretive. He said that Severio is a power-hungry monster who thinks he can control everyone.
From what I’ve witnessed of the man, Gio is right.
At least Severio allowed the mock ceremony and the reception to continue as planned. After all the hard work thevenue staff, the planners, and my kitchen staff did, I’d’ve been devasted if they didn’t get to see the fruits of their labor.
In Italy in late May, most wedding receptions can be held outdoors. Ours is in the main garden of my family’s resort, which overlooks the sea on one side and the lush green of the rocky Mediterranean mountains on the other. With nature providing most of the surrounding beauty, decorating a garden for a wedding takes expertise.
Sol, our wedding planner, didn’t want to overwhelm the venue with color, but also said all beige would make everything boring and too simple. After much debate, he settled on peach and beige color combinations for the flowers and the rest of the decor, allowing the natural beauty of the island I grew up on to take care of the rest.
I selected the menu, from the hors d’oeuvres to the cake. Which is a great thing, because if I hadn’t been the chef, I’d have to comfort another chef, who, I imagine, would have a meltdown over the bride not eating his meals.
I love food, but I can’t eat a single bite. My stomach is in knots over the claiming ritual Severio’s insisting on.
Apparently, the membership to the Serpentine Order I inherited from my father comes with “perks.” If by perks, Gio means having a close relationship with Severio, who is sitting with his siblings at one end of our long table, then I wish I could return my membership card. But I can’t. The Head of the Order severs ties with the members of the Body and not the other way around.
Ever so slightly, I lean forward and look their way.
Paulina Mancini, Severio’s twin, is chatting with Sol. Her smile is radiant, her blonde hair perfectly held back by a golden bow that matches her golden dress and shoes. Her manicured fingernail touches the shoulder of the woman next to her, and Michela Mancini, Severio’s sister-in-law, looks up.
Sol is speaking animatedly and pointing toward the boats in the marina while Corrado Mancini, Severio’s younger brother, burps his baby girl, her head turned toward her uncle, Severio, who sits at the head of the table in a seat he’s not supposed to occupy.
According to custom, nobody should sit there, but I think he’s making a point. Not that he needs to make a point. His mere presence makes people turn toward him. If he sat in the corner by the kitchen exit, he’d still draw all the attention.
That’s because Severio carries himself like a military general. And as most generals would, he attends the wedding in a black suit that he wears like armor and looks utterly uncomfortable in, in an atmosphere where people are relaxing and having fun.
He barely ate any of his beef Wellington, and now he seems content to people watch. Like a beautiful, dangerous panther. With narrowed, piercing blue eyes, flattened lips, elbow on the table, his jaw resting on his fist.
The baby Corrado is holding lifts her head and turns her cute, chubby face toward me. I smile and wave. I love babies.
She flutters her little fingers as if waving back.
Since Severio’s vigilantly watching everyone, his gaze cuts my way. We lock eyes, and I immediately lean back into my space. I promise myself I won’t wave at the cute baby anymore if it’ll keep me off her uncle’s radar.
“He’s not had a single bite to eat,” my mother says to Gio. They’re standing right behind me, probably thinking I’m not listening. Or, more likely, discounting the fact I can hear them speaking abouthim.Severio. He’s the topic of every conversation tonight, and opinions of him are polarizing.
“He thinks we’ll poison him before the ritual,” Gio says.
“Will we?” my mother asks.
Gio chuckles. “I wish, but if he dies in such a way, the members will vote in favor of his brother, not me.”
People either hate Severio or are obsessed with him. Since most of my friends have no idea what’s going on, they’re all in the latter category, giggling and laughing loudly at the round table across from ours, trying to get his attention. Tiki’s eyeballing him as if he’s a male lion she wants to sacrifice herself to.
Unfortunately, Severio’s already picked his gazelle for the evening.
