AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pat his hand. “I’ll go. Don’t worry.”
He hugs me and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Cristina. You’re doing us all a great service.”
It doesn’t seem fair that I’m the one who must pay for what my father did with Gio, but Gio crossed Severio so severely (punintended) that he froze all of Gio’s assets and may or may not release them once he claims me. Severio doesn’t need me or want me, and if I asked, I bet he would release me from “service,” but I have no doubt that humiliating Gio by claiming me will give him a sense of revenge.
“If my daddy were alive,” I tell my mother, defiantly lifting my chin, my eyes filling with tears, “you wouldn’t dare treat me like this.”
“He’d have done worse,” my mother hisses. “I begged Severio to spare you.”
Gio barks at her to stop, drawing the attention of the couple at a table near ours. They turn to see who’s raising his voice.
Gio shows them his teeth, a mockery of a smile. “We’re a family now. Remember. Let us all behave.” To me, he says, “I will get us out from under his grip. You have my word.”
With a heavy, terrified heart, I force myself to walk toward Severio, the man I hate for ruining my life and taking away my dignity.
I could’ve lived in a mansion with an inattentive husband who would have given me all the freedom I needed to pursue my passions. But now I’m unmarried, penniless, and on my way to sleep with a stranger on my supposed wedding night. What keeps me striding toward my enemy is the vision of a future where I own the hotel at the heart of a resort from which Severio departs in a few hours and to which he will never return.
2
CUTE BUT HATES ME
SEVERIO
This is the sixth wedding I’ve attended this year.
Thankfully, this one is a farce, or I’d have thought it a bad omen cosmically lining me up as the seventh man at the altar. I wouldn’t wish a lifetime spent with me on my worst enemy, let alone of the woman I’d chosen as my bride.
The same could not be said for my brother, who smeared cake frosting on the cheek of his stunningly beautiful wife just so he could lick it off. Before I gag, I position my phone on my niece’s stroller, meeting the eyes of a guard standing at the ramp. The camera disguised as a red serpent pin on his suit allows me to view the main gathering on my phone.
Watching the cowards who want to hurt me when they’re unaware I’m watching gives me perverse pleasure. I sip my whiskey. The slight jerk of my twin’s head toward the middle of the long table where the bride and groom sit tells me something’s happening.
I flick two fingers toward the guard whose camera I’m using as surveillance, and he moves a few steps closer.
My uncle Gio, a dark-haired man in his sixties, grips the hand of his bride, a voluptuous, petite woman in her late twenties. Her neck curves as she looks up at him.
All things considered, she’s holding up pretty well. At the altar, I expected at least some grievances or tears from a woman whose fiancé gave her up before the marriage was consummated. She made it through the ceremony, smiled, and nodded, even kissed her fake groom on the mouth as a bride would. All that without a glint of a tear in her eye.
I doubt her eyes will remain dry once the claiming starts. It’s not intended to be pleasant, but it’s also not a punishment. It is a claiming. A permanent reminder that all major decisions regarding the Order must go through me.
The ritual is written in the rule book, and since I’m executing the claiming because Gio broke the Order’s rules, the ritual feels like vengeance, which makes it that much sweeter.
It’s taken my uncle over a decade since my father passed me the throne, in a manner of speaking, to find a way to steal the Order from me. He found his way when he took over the Capone family fortune and tried to marry Capone’s only heir. If he’d been successful, he would have gained popularity by allowing human trafficking alongside our legitimate trade that passes through the web of islands we own.
Trafficking people is something I’ve refused to allow and will never allow as long as I’m alive. And hopefully, that’ll be for many decades so I can properly enjoy the fortune I’ve amassed.
The waves softly hitting the sand right under the venue remind me of the beauty of this island I’ve coveted since I first came here as a boy. I inhale the briny breeze blowing from the water, and it smells like victory.
I finally own this island. This small country, I should say, but that makes me sound like I’m interested in politics. I’m not. My uncle remains the prime minister. That won’t change, and besides, I’ll need to make use of his political ties and savviness. I make for a poor diplomat. Autocracy is more my forte.
Behind me and before another ramp in the path under the wisteria tree, one of my guards argues with someone. I turn to see a band of musicians trying to make their way up. When I meet my guard’s eye and nod, he lets them pass.
Jesse, the former vice president of a motorcycle club, has been in my detail since my niece was born seven months ago. He’s not the type I’d normally place in my guard unit, but he’s a longtime friend of my sister-in-law, which means he’s shown loyalty over time. It means I can trust him, so I put up with his rebellious attitude.
Jesse lets the musicians through. One of the band members, a short blonde woman, picks up her trumpet and wipes the mouthpiece as if ready to test it before the performance.
Don’t do it.
I glance at my niece’s cute face as she sleeps peacefully in her stroller next to me.
