ALANA

09

ARES

I can almost feel her shaking in her shoes as she stands there, after having listened to my speech.

I might have been unnecessarily aggressive but I need her to know her place in this marriage. It is unfair, she is a beautiful woman in her prime, she could get married to someone who is offering her more than just a title. Does she deserve to know that? Yes she does. And I will tell her.

"Before we go out there, and declare this facade of a marriage, you must know everything so you can make an informed decision." I tell her to which she barely reacts, just numbly nods her head.

"I will allow you to live however you want when we are married, you will be free of any and all expectations. I expect the same back. As long as you do not get in the way of my business, I will not yours, and our lives will pass in peace." I tell her. I expected her to scream, to protest, say something, anything. But expression remains the same and her gaze remains fixed on the carpeted floor. Absolutely no reaction. "Are you okay with the life I have described? You can say no right now and leave if you are not." I ask her, wanting to atleast hear her speak.

Anything would do.

"I am." She says simply. Her voice wavers.

That's all she says. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. This is not the response I was expecting. In my experience women are very vocal. And annoyingly so.

"You do not wish to say anything more?" I press for more.

Finally, she looks up at me, her light brown eyes glossy but not teary, her expression monotone. Like a robot.

"I am sorry for making you think I expect more than what you are willing to give me, Don" she starts. What the fuck. "I know my place, as a wife, I will do whatever I am told. I will not speak out of turn and I will not get in your way or business." She says, her voice is uneven, she takes a deep breath in as if composing herself. Her response sounds robotic, her overall body language is that of a scared little girl, her words do not match it at all. "If I may, I want to say something but it is not a response to a question you have asked?" she asks permission.

To speak. Is this normal?

I nod, keeping a stoic face.

"You have a rather distracting peice of lint on your collar" she informs with a straight face, no hint of any emotion accept for the underlying but very permanent look of fear in her big innocent eyes. I blink, trying to understand what she just said. "May I remove it?" she asks making me nod again, without a word.

"Right then, if you are aware of the terms of this marriage, we should be on our way" She nods and turns, but waits for me to initiate walking. What did she study protocol all her life?

We walk up to the entrance of the hall, and I halt just outside turning to her. But she is caught off guard so I get to see all the emotions on her face that were completely absent just now. She looks scared, nervous and like she doesn't want to be here.

That makes two of us.

She fiddles with her necklace, a small gasp leaving her mouth as it moves. Cazzo her neck must be sensitive.

"It would be ideal if we linked arms." I say making her jolt a little out of her reverie. I offer my arm for emphasis and  she nods quickly, wrapping her much smaller arm around my large muscular one. The difference in size is almost comical.

We then enter and I feel all eyes on us and the hall goes silent then breaks out in whispers. I roll my eyes and lead Alana towards where I see my parents standing.

"You two make such a lovely couple" Mama says with a big, genuine smile on her face. Atleast she is happy.

"That is hardly a dress appropriate for a young girl" I hear a voice behind me and I did not even pay attention to what was said but what interested me was how my fiancé's arm tightens around mine and her whole body stiffens. I immediately turn to see Consigliere Colombo and his wife standing there, with their tramp of a daughter behind them. I realize he is the one who spoke.

"Godfather, Donna" he makes a move to bow in respect which makes Alana flinch backwards so I steady her. I give her a look which she does not even see, her eyes are locked on her Father and despite the makeup her face looks drained of color.

Did he comment on his daughter's dress? Infront of everyone?

"F-father" she whimpers, her hand loosing its grip making me tighten my hold on it.

"I think she looks marvelous Consigliere, it is a dress of my personal preference" Mama says with her tone challenging him to say something else, her face tense like when someone criticizes her cooking.

"Ofcourse Donna Moretti, I was just casually making small talk" he brushes it off with a nervous laugh as I feel Alana take a few small steps into me.

She's scared. But of what? Her own father?

AN:    Btw, Alana is pronounced:

A - lana