Arranged Mafia Marriage

Christian

How dare she try to return her wedding ring to me? How dare she think everything that happened between us is a sham? Women. .. fuck! I should have known things were going to get messy the moment I set eyes on her. I should have walked away from her, but did I? Of course, not. Instead, I had appointed myself as her protector. I only have myself to blame for the predicament I’m in now.

I slam down the half-empty glass of whiskey on the bar in the living room. The thud resounds through my head, and I wince. Clearly, trying to get drunk is not doing any favors for the headache that has gathered behind my eyes. Well, fuck that. It’s the least I can do to drown out the thoughts that insist on crowding in on me.

She owes me her life, and how does she repay me? By asking me to leave… And what had I done? I had obliged her. Is that a sign of weakness? Have I become so pussy-whipped that I allowed her to dictate my actions?

I stare at the remnants of the amber liquid in the bottle. Golden and brown with sparks where the light from above hits the surface of the whiskey. Gleaming and complex and layered… Just like her.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

She is the love of my life, and I let her get away. She is the only thing that makes sense in this bizarre twisted mess my life has become, and I allowed her to leave. I had turned and walked away from her again.

Why hadn’t I listened to her when she had tried to explain things to me at the house? Why had I been so quick to believe the worst of her?

I bring the glass of whiskey to my lips and chug down the rest of the contents. The alcohol burns its way down my gullet and explodes in my stomach. I can’t feel my hands and feet, which means I’m doing something right. Something that will, hopefully, shut down the regrets that pinch my chest, the heaviness that coils around my heart and squeezes until I’m sure that I’ll never feel the same way again.

Someone raps on the door to the living room before barging in. “Knock, knock, motherfucker.”

Seb’s annoying voice cuts through the thoughts in my head.

“Lost your way?” I pour more whiskey into my glass, then some more, topping it up almost to the brim.

He whistles. “You sure you’ve had enough? There’s a little more room in the glass if you want to pour more into it.”

“Ha, ha,” I scoff, then survey the glass. “You may have a point there.” I add to the glass until some of the amber liquid sloshes over the side. “Therrre,” I slur, “is that betterrr?”

“I think you need to stop drinking, to be honest.”

“Aww, come on, are you going to become all responsible and boring like our fratellone?” I lean down to the bar and slurp from the overfull glass. To be fair, I’m over the whiskey already, especially since my head is spinning, and I am currently seeing two of Seb. But I don’t tell him that. Asshole would only bore me with another sermon, no doubt, about my shortcomings-of which I have many, as the events of the last day have shown.

“On the other hand, perhaps I should join you, eh?”

“Now that is a capital idea, brother.” I reach for the bottle, but he stops me.

“I have a better idea.” He slides another glass toward me, then reaches for mine.

I scowl. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know if I can share your pain, but perhaps, I can share your drink?” He tugs on the glass, and when I release my hold on it, he pours almost half of my drink into his. A good portion ends up on the bar.

“I know what you’re doing.” I chuckle.

“Oh, yeah?”

“You’re trying to stop me from getting drunk, aren’t you?”

“I think that ship has sailed,” he laughs, “but yes, I’m trying to save you from alcohol poisoning.”

“I don’t need your… your…” I squint at him, “your…”

“Sympathy?”

“Exactly.” I take another sip of the whiskey. “I don’t need your symp… sympa…”

“Sympathy,” he prompts.

“What-fucking-ever,” I place my glass on the counter then stand up. The room tilts. Oops, wrong move. I grab the edge of the counter and steady myself. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”

“Michael was worried about you, so I decided to come by and take a look at what you were up to.”

“And the rest of the family is-”

“Taking turns keeping Theresa company at your triplet’s bedside. He’s still unconscious, by the way,” Seb murmurs, “thank you, for asking.”

“Hey,” I scowl, “you don’t get to do that; you don’t get to guilt trip me for mourning the end of my marriage before it even started.”

“And who’s fault is that?” He drawls, “I’m not the one who took off-”

“-leaving her behind. Yes, yes, I know. I’m guilty, so sue me.”

“I think she’s roasting your ass enough, and deservedly.” Seb chuckles. “It’s good to see you crawl, brother.”

“Fuck off,” I jerk my chin toward the doorway. “No, seriously, get the fuck out of my house, Sebastian.”

“Ah, apparently you were right to come here,” Massimo prowls through the door, “and you were right that he’s probably crying into his drink like a pussy.”

“Hey,” I spin around and almost topple over. Oops, wrong move again. Apparently, that’s all I’m good for right now, not being able to take a step without tripping over my own two feet. “Get the fuck out.” I straighten, lean an elbow against the bar, miss it and crash into one of the barstools. I hit the floor on my ass and sprawl out. Well, on the flip side, at least my head has some kind of support now, which is fucking helpful.

Massimo’s face hovers in my line of sight. “You okay down there, fratellino, or do you need some help getting up?”

“Nope, not needed.” I fold my hands over my chest. “I’m good; class dismissed.”

“Did he just say what I think he said-?”

“He did,” Seb replies. “Asshole thinks drinking himself into a stupor is the way forward.”

“And I thought he was brighter than that.”

“Apparently not,” Seb snorts.

“Hey,” I protest, “I’m still here you, stronzos.” Or at least, that’s what I think I say, but all that comes out is a choking sound.

“You say something, oh, enlightened one?” Massimo smirks, then holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s get you to your bed, shall we?”

I open my eyes and groan. My tongue feels too big for my mouth, I try to swallow, and my throat hurts. I sit up, and the headache behind my eyes increases in intensity. Shit, I’m never drinking again. Never.

I notice the glass of water and the two pills next to it. Who placed it there? Massimo? Seb? Doesn’t matter. I down them, drain the glass of water, and stumble to the bathroom. By the time I’m done with the hot shower and am dressed, I feel a little better. I follow the scent of toast and bacon to the kitchen. I head inside and find Massimo and Seb at the breakfast nook with Cassandra serving them breakfast. She sets a plate of food down for me, then moves away.

“What are you doing here?” I frown at her.

“Michael insisted I take over the cooking until you are back on your feet.”

“I’m not incapacitated, or has everyone forgotten that?”

“Hey,” Massimo growls, “we’re worried about you, okay? Deal with it.”

I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry, Cass.” I roll my shoulders. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s understandable.” She places an espresso in front of me. “Did you speak to her yesterday?”

“What do you think?” My stomach churns at the sight of the food. I push away the plate and reach for the espresso. “I met her at the airport, and she asked me to leave; end of story.”

“Is it?” Seb places his phone on the table. “Did you ask her to forgive you?”

I drain my espresso, then place the cup back in its saucer. “Of course, I did. Why else would I have gone there?”

The two men exchange a glance.

“What?” I scowl. “I assume you two teste di cazzo have something to say?”

“Does he always have such a sunny disposition first thing in the morning?” Massimo muses.

“He always was a rude motherfucker,” Seb confirms.

“Think we should tussle him to the ground and sit on him until he sees sense?” Massimo looks me up and down.

“He’s taller than either of us, but if we take him together, I’m sure we can overpower him.”

“Not that it would make any difference; he’d probably still be pigheaded about this entire issue.”

“He’s an ass,” Seb agrees.

“Hey,” I fold my arms across my chest, “stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

“Stop acting like you don’t have a brain in your head,” Massimo shoots back.

“What?” I growl, “What the hell are you two talking about?”

“Clearly, your idea of asking for forgiveness is very different from what was needed to actually get her to forgive you.”

“You’ve lost me.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “I went to her, tracked her down, told her I was sorry, repeatedly.”

“But did you actually mean it?” Seb narrows his gaze on me. “Did you convey just how much of an asshole you’ve been with every fiber of your being for every moment that you’ve known her?”

Heat sears my neck. I glance at him, then away.

“That’s what I thought.”

“What makes you two such experts on relationships anyway?” I snap.

“And n-o-w he’s angry with us.” Seb shakes his head. “He thinks he can distract us from our mission.”

“Mission?”

“We’re here to make you see reason,” Massimo drawls.

“Reason?” I pull the plate of food toward me and begin to eat. “What reason?”

“Look, you were born a grump-face, are shit company, and really, the only times we have been able to tolerate you is when you have been with her.”

“What?” I stop with my fork halfway to my mouth.

“She made you a better person, asshole.” Seb snorts. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, by the way.” He looks a little shocked with himself. “I sound like I picked the dialogue from a romance film.”

“You mean a rom-com,” Massimo corrects him.

“How the hell do you know what a rom-com is?” I stare at him.

“It’s an informed guess,” he raises a shoulder, “and don’t try to steer us off course.”

“You guys are the ones taking this entire conversation off course by talking about emo shit.” I finish the mouthful on my fork and go in for another. “This food is really good, by the way,” I compliment Cassandra.

“You really are trying to change the topic, aren’t you?” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Hey, I was just complimenting you on the food,” I protest.

“Definitely trying to change the topic.” Seb nods. “What do you say, Massimo? Do you think he’s strong enough to hear the truth from us, or is he too much of a pussy?”

“Who are you calling a pussy?” I snap.

“You, little brother.” Massimo smirks.

I drop my fork on the plate with a clatter. “Fuck this.” I rise to my feet, and the two men stand up with me.

“Sit down.” Seb scowls.

“Fuck off.” I turn to leave, and Massimo steps in my way.

“Sit down, fratellino, you need to hear this before you leave.”

“The fuck, you guys?” I roll my shoulders. “If it’s a fight you’re spoiling for…”

“I’d happily kick your ass.” Massimo laughs.

“You wish,” I interrupt him. “Why are you two being so persistent, anyway?”

“Because we care, you pezzo di merda,” Seb says in a soft tone. “Just sit down and listen to us, okay, and we promise, we won’t bother you again.”

Behind us, Cassandra stops what she’s doing and comes to stand next to me. “Please, Christian,” she pleads, “Aurora is someone I care about, and I’d hate to see the two of you lose this chance at a future together.”

I open my mouth to protest, then shut it. “Fine,” I sit down, “say what you’re dying to get off your chests.” I glower at my brothers.

Massimo and Seb glance at each other, then both sit down.

“Go to her,” Massimo says without preamble. “Apologize again. Properly, this time.”

I rub the back of my neck. “She asked me to stay away from her.”

“And you listened to her?” Seb’s gaze widens.

“What choice did I have?” I shift around in my seat. “She was pissed at me, and it felt like the least I could do was honor her wishes.”

“Oh, so now you decide to pay attention to what she wants, eh?” Seb snorts. “All this time, you ensured you got your way, to the point that you humiliated her in front of everyone else, and now, when you should be doing your best to smooth over the damage you’ve done, you take the easy way out and walk away from her, again?”

“It wasn’t easy,” I mumble. “What the hell else should I have done?”

“Are you sure you want to hear it from us?” Massimo smirks.

“It’s not like you’ve given me much of a choice,” I roll my shoulders, “so why don’t you say your piece?”

“Throw yourself at her mercy and ask her for forgiveness.”