"The Mob Boss and His Enemy's Bride" ❦
Madeline belonged to Riccardo. Through the curves of her father's signature, Madeline was signed away to be Riccardo's wife from the day she was born. It was already set in stone that he would one day become he...
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A week. A week until I was going to be forced to wed a man who I wholeheartedly despised. My days were spent speaking about my wedding and choosing the best cakes, colors, dresses, and decorations. However, I had no care in the damn world about what dress I wore or how tall the cake was. So, every time they asked, I answered with the same response, "it's lovely."
"Ma'am, you keep saying that, but that doesn't help us find what you want," the lady sighed. "I'm just trying to do my job by helping you have the best wedding ever."
Something in me snapped. My glare turned colder and I could just feel my jaw tightening.
"You need to listen to me. I've been having the worst week of my life, okay? My 'fiancé' keeps bringing his fuckbuddy into my room to show me how he likes his blowjobs," I stated as I watched her grimace. The same amount of disgust she wore on her face, easily replicated on mine as I continued speaking, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that too much information? Well, guess what? It was for me too. So, get it through your head that it will never matter to me what you choose for this wedding. You can put me in clown makeup and dress me up in all black for all I care. It's practically going to be my funeral anyway, might as well throw a circus while we're at it."
Her grimace was quickly replaced by a frown. Guilt dispersed itself in my gut as I watched her stand up with her clipboard perched at her side. She didn't offer a second glance before walking out of my room. Even if I wanted to go and apologize, I couldn't because my door radiated a soft click that echoed through my room. She locked me in here. That, itself, was enough to make my guilt disappear.
Thinking back, I could only recall every moment I was naive. It was naive of me to believe that I could escape the imprisonment of a curse that somehow tied itself to every woman in my family. My mother was forced to marry a man she didn't love, and now, so was I. At least the man my mother married wasn't half as bad as the man I was being forced to wed.
I've tried to come up with some way to get out of the permanent situation I was in. Riccardo was a pig and I was ashamed to be anywhere near him. My lip curled every time he touched me, and the urge to puke grew stronger when he promised to impregnate me.
I stood up from where I sat on the floor and wandered over to my bed. Underneath the mattress, I hid a sketchbook and pencil where I drew out every part of my imagination. I was never the kind of artist that drew people, but somehow, I found myself drawing the man I had seen all those nights ago, the Siciliano.
He was the most beautiful man, and it was hard to get him out of my thoughts. With every stroke of my pencil, I formed every curve and contour of his face. I focused on drawing the parts I remembered most clearly like his beautiful eyes and plump lips.
I wondered what he thought of me.
He probably didn't think much after seeing the huge engagement ring drenched in Riccardo's claim on my finger. In the crime world, it was frowned-upon to go after a claimed woman. The rules were strict to ensure organization, and they were the most foolish rules to ever exist.
