Arranged Mafia Marriage

Aurora

It’s over, it’s over. His words echo in my ears. I rub my hands down my wedding gown, then glance down to find the dress stained with blood and dirt. It’s a mess, just like my life. I watch as the paramedics strap the stranger to the stretcher and load him into the ambulance.

One of the men turns to me. “Are you going to ride with us?”

“I-”

“I am.” Theresa rushes forward. “Please, can I go with him? Please, Aurora?”

I nod, and she scrambles up and into the ambulance. The door shuts behind them, and the ambulance pulls away.

“Michael, take me to the hospital,” Nonna orders. “I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“Of course,” Michael responds.

“I am coming with the both of you,” Karma adds.

The three of them head off for his car just as Massimo, Seb, and Adrian return. “We couldn’t find the shooter,” Massimo growls.

“Asshole took off in his car.” Seb drags his fingers through his hair.

“Couldn’t even get a look at his face,” Adrian blows out a breath. “Cazzo, who the hell would break in, knowing the entire Sovrano family was here, and try to shoot at us? Unless…”

“Unless he was trying to shoot at Christian’s triplet?” Michael murmurs.

“Not one of my men,” JJ walks over to us, “if that’s what you are thinking.”

“And you know I wouldn’t do that,” Nikolai adds as he draws abreast. “Though, whoever did it got through your security.”

Antonio approaches from the other end of the clearing; he’s dragging a man by the collar. “I found him trying to escape, boss.” He scowls at his pale-faced prisoner. “He confessed to opening the gates to the grounds and admitting the man who shot at us.”

I close the distance to the man and glare down at him. “Is that right; did you betray us?”

“I … I’m sorry,” he sputters. “I … I was stupid; he said he was a friend and wanted to play a friendly wedding prank.”

“And you believed him?”

“He paid me.” He glances away. “I am sorry. I know it was wrong; I know I shouldn’t have done it, but-”

“But you did it anyway. What’s your name?” I growl.

“Marcello,” he replies. “Please, Consigliere, don’t hurt me; I have a grandmother who depends on me.”NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

“Why is it that none of you think through the consequences before you act?”

“I … I … I am sorry,” he whispers.

“That won’t make up for the grief you caused us.”

I glance at Massimo, who pulls out his gun. He hands it over to me, and I press the barrel against his temple.

The man whimpers, “Please don’t hurt me, please don’t.”

“You should have thought of that before you betrayed us,” I growl.

I tighten my finger on the trigger when, “Don’t, Christian.” Aurora pleads with me. “Please, don’t do this.”

“So, it’s okay for you to want to kill me, but if I want to kill someone to protect my family, that’s wrong?”

“Oh my god! How many times must I tell you? I didn’t want you killed,” she cries. “But that’s beside the point. You don’t want to kill him, Christian,” she adds softly.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

She swallows. “I am begging you,” she beseeches me, “don’t.”

I hesitate, then lower the gun. Why the hell am I listening to her? Why is it that I can’t ignore her pleas? “Take him away,” I order Antonio. “I’ll deal with him later.”

Antonio turns and drags the man along with him. I hold out the gun to Massimo, and he slides it back into his waistband.

I turn to her, “It’s time for you to leave as well.”

“What?” She opens her eyes. “No, don’t say that.”

“Be grateful I am letting you leave with your life.”

“Christian, please, let’s talk this through. You know you don’t want to do this.”

“A-n-d, there you go again, professing to know what I want to do.” I drum my fingers on my chest.

“I do know what you want,” she swallows, “I am your wife.”

“A fake wife. A sham wedding.” I raise my shoulder. “None of it counts for anything.”

“Hold on, brother,” Seb cautions me, “think this one through, will you?”

“Mind your own business, will you?”

“You just married her. Surely, it’s worth the two of you taking this somewhere private where you can discuss things,” Massimo adds.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I drawl, “my mind is made up.”

“You are already married,” Adrian reminds me. “You can’t just decide now that you don’t want to be married.”

“Watch me.” I yawn.

I turn and begin to walk away from them.

For a second, there’s silence, then footsteps sound behind me. “Christian, stop!” Aurora runs to catch up with me. “Please, Christian, just give me a few minutes of your time.”

“Not possible.” I increase my pace, so she has to jog to keep up with me.

“Don’t throw away what we have built so far.”

“We’ve built nothing of consequence. Oh, wait,” I raise my forefinger, “guess we made some memories, and even that doesn’t count for anything.”

“You don’t mean it,” she gasps as tears stream down her face, “I don’t believe you are as callous as you make yourself out to be.”

“Better believe it.” I head down the driveway to where my vehicle is parked. The same one in which I had driven her here. The one in which I had held her hand and barely been able to keep my gaze off her radiant face. In which we had laughed as I had opened the door, hauled her up in my arms bridal style, and swept her over the threshold and up the stairs to our bedroom. Our bedroom. Our home. The house I had bought for her, for us…for the future… That I can no longer see with her. Not after what she did.

I reach the car, wrench the door open on the driver’s side, and slide in.

“Christian, please-”

I slam the door in her face and cut her off.

She bends forward to look in the window, her chest heaving, her hair undone from the swept-up style she had worn it in earlier. Blood taints her bodice and is splashed across her neck. My twin’s-no, the stranger who looks like my twin’s-blood. The one to whom I must go now and figure out who the hell he is. That is more important than… Listening to the excuses that she’s, no doubt, preparing to fling in my face.

She bangs on the window, but I stare ahead. I am aware of tears flowing down her cheeks, of her saying something, but I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when I need to figure out the truth behind the appearance of the man who looks like my twin brother. I start the ignition, then press down on the accelerator so the car leaps forward. I drive toward the gates, hitting the remote on the dash so it opens. As I pull out of the driveway, I raise my gaze to the rearview mirror. My last sight is of her… in her wedding gown… staring after me. Then, I turn the corner, and she disappears from sight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I apply the brakes and screech to a halt, then slam my fists into the steering wheel, “The fuck is wrong with me?”

Half an hour later, I park the car near the hospital where the injured stranger has been taken. I walk into the reception and am directed to the first floor. I walk down the corridor to the private room where the rest of the family is waiting.

“Christian,” Nonna rises to her feet as soon as I enter the room. “Oh, god, Christian.” She walks over to me, her features pale, dark circles under her eyes highlighting the crow’s feet. Her chin trembles as she reaches me. “I am so glad you are here, nipotino mio,” she murmurs.

She holds out her hand, and I grip it. Then, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. She trembles, and for a second, I am struck by how fragile she feels. I pull back and gently peer into her face, “Is there any news?”

“No,” she shakes her head.

“They took him into surgery,” Michael replies from the window.

“They haven’t told us anything yet.” Theresa sniffs. “I asked them if he was going to be okay, but they didn’t reply.”

“They were too busy rushing him into the operating theater,” Karma says gently.

“I know,” Theresa wrings her fingers together, “and they were right to do so. I just wish someone would tell me if he’s going to be okay.” She squeezes her eyes shut, “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

Karma glances at Michael, who shakes his head. She pulls the other woman close, and Theresa buries her head in Karma’s shoulder.

“Where’s your wife?” Nonna asks, glancing behind me. “Why isn’t she with you?”

“She’s not with me anymore,” I state blandly.

“What do you mean ‘not with you’?” Nonna searches my features. “What have you done, Christian?” she exclaims. “Did you… ” she shakes her head, “Surely, you can’t be that stupid, can you?”

“She had planned to have me killed, Nonna,” I pull away from her, “I am going to annul the marriage.”

“Annulment.” She throws up her hands, “What is wrong with you young people? You get married at the drop of a hat, then think you can undo the wedding as quickly?”

“It was because of her that I got shot.”

“And you deserved it,” Nonna snaps.

“What?” I stare, “How can you say that?”

“Holding her captive, coercing her to marry you, leaving her no choice but to say yes-”

“She wanted to get married to me,” I insist.

“Ha,” she snorts, “and you know that, how?”

“I know,” I set my jaw.

“You mean,” she plants her hand on her hips, “all of you think you are god’s gift to women. You think just because you are mafioso and carry guns, your dick is the answer to everything.”

“Nonna,” I gape, “what are you talking about?”

Michael glances between us. He looks like he’s about to intervene, then seems to change his mind. I glare at him. Traitor. He’s the one who kidnapped Karma and started this entire sequence of events rolling, and now he has the nerve to sit there and watch this shitstorm unfold?

“Porca puttana! You are being unreasonable, Nonna,” I complain.

“You dare accuse me of being unreasonable when you’re the one acting like a… a coglione?” She jabs her forefinger in my chest.

“Ow,” I scowl, “that hurt.”

“Good, it should.” She glares at me, “You broke that poor girl’s heart, no doubt, by giving her this cock-and-bull story about getting the marriage annulled, I assume.”

“I-uh, haven’t mentioned any such thing to her yet.”

“Good,” she sniffs, “then you can go back and apologize to her.”

“No,” I set my jaw.

“Christiano Roberto Dominico Sovrano,” Nonna pulls herself up to her full height, “are you going tell your wife that you are sorry and make-up with her, or not?”

“Not,” I fold my arms across my chest, “I am sorry, Nonna, but on this, I am not changing my mind.”

She glowers at me, then all of the color seems to leach from her face. She puts her hand to her forehead and groans, “I… I don’t think I am feeling very well.”

“Nonna!” I exclaim as I step toward her.

“Don’t you touch me,” she scowls, “not until you have put right the mess you have created.”

She turns to Michael and holds out her hand. “Mica,” she trembles, “please, help me to a seat; I think my poor heart is just about going to give out after all the stress that this stronzo has put me through.”

“Nonna,” I protest, “why is it that Mica is always in your good graces, and I have to work doubly hard to get a single word of praise from you?”

“Because he’s smart; he knew, when he found Karma, that he couldn’t let her get away. Unlike you…” She sways again, and this time, Michael crosses over to her and wraps his arm about her shoulder. “You,” she raises her nose in the air, “are clearly, completely, utterly even more stupido than I thought.”

“Me? I’m stupid?” I scowl as Michael guides her to an armchair.

Karma walks to the water cooler in the corner and fetches her a glass of water.

“Thank you, dear,” Nonna murmurs. “At least, I can count on the two of you to keep your head in these situations.”

Karma and Michael exchange looks over her head.

“You take it easy, Nonna,” Michael pats her shoulder.

“I will, once I know that Xander is going to be okay,” Nonna says in a tired voice. Is she actually feeling unwell, or is the old bat acting up? My Nonna is not only smart, but she is also a consummate actress. She’s been known to go to any length to get her way. But she can’t be playacting now, can she? She really does look completely worn-out and about to faint.

On cue, Theresa begins to weep again, “How can he look so much like my Xan. He is Xander, isn’t he?” She wails. “Please, please, tell me it is Xander and that he is going to be okay?”

“Can someone tell the girl to shut up?” Nonna glances at Karma, “Please?”

Karma straightens, then walks over to Theresa; she sits down next to her, and the two women speak in hushed whispers.

Just then, the door is pushed open and Massimo, Seb, and Luca walk in. Antonio takes his position outside the door as it swings shut.

“Where is she?” Nonna asks.

The men look at each other, then Seb jerks his chin, “After he left, she stood there in the driveway until I helped her back into the house. She packed up her things and asked me to book her on the next flight to London.”

“London?” I scowl, “Why is she going back to London?”

“I doubt you have the right to ask that question after how you treated her,” Massimo drawls.

I shoot him a sideways glance, then turn my attention back to Seb, “Has she already left?”

“Adrian’s driving her to the airport.”

“Right.” I hunch my shoulders. This is good; this is exactly what I wanted. So, why does everything in my body insist that this is wrong? Why does my chest hurt; why is my stomach tied up in knots? I shuffle my feet, glance about the room to find every single person is studying me. “What?” I scowl, “What do you want me to do?”

“Go after her, you testa di cazzo,” Seb snaps.

“Get her back, pezza di merda,” Massimo growls.

I open my mouth to protest, and that’s when the doctor walks into the waiting room.