Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance

by Watson, Meg

  “Aw come on, Roman, don’t clam up now!”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Naw!” he moans. “Let’s talk! Let’s delve into our feelings!”

  “You know what, Alek, why don’t you do something useful, instead?” I sigh as I’m coming up on the garment district. Now I’m just driving in circles, going nowhere.

  “Anything, brother.”

  “Why don’t you get us a couple of suits. Nice ones.”

  He pauses for a second. Finally some peace and quiet. “Suits?”

  “Yeah,” I snarl. “Looks like we’re getting married this weekend.”

  CHAPTER 10

  MARIE

  Gianna’s eyes go all wet and puppy-like when she looks at me. She claps her hands underneath her chin.

  “Oh, Marie, just look at you!"

  “Stop it, Gianna. There's nothing to cheer about.”

  I stare into the three-way mirror and the avalanche of white silk. She peeks over my shoulder and gnaws at her bottom lip.

  “You look beautiful!” she breathes in my ear.

  “You want this dress?” I sneer. “You can have it, Gianna. It would look better on you anyway.”

  “No, oh my God, no. It's perfect for you, Marie. So perfect.”

  Despite everything, I can almost see what she's saying. This is just the kind of dress I always dreamed about. Form fitting through the bodice and over the hips and then flaring in an explosion of peony petals at the knee. A perfect mermaid style. Lacy sleeves down to the elbows. One trillion tiny crystals and pearls.

  I tug the veil over my face again, trying to hide my frown. Every time she sees my expression, Gianna gives me a poke.

  “Oh, I wish you would just look at yourself,” she sighs. “It's like you're not even trying!”

  I back away from the mirror and turn in a slow circle so the dress doesn't trip me under these stupid satin heels. Carefully I lower my bottom onto the upholstered bench at the end of my bed.

  “Exactly what am I supposed to be happy about, Gianna? There's nothing good about this day. Nothing at all!”

  She kneels in front of me and takes my hands in her hands. I know she wants me to be happy, and I want to be happy just so that she can be happy for me. But I can't make it work. Everything I thought this day would be is warped, twisted. It's like a dream that's been perverted into a nightmare.

  “What are you going to do? You’re not going to spend your whole life miserable, Marie. I know you, and you're not like that. You'll find a way to be happy, won't you?”

  I nod uncertainly. I know that's what she wants me to do.

  “Gianna, just don't push me, okay? I'm doing the best I can. You don't know… You didn't see them...”

  “Them?” she repeats, her eyebrows up.

  My mouth opens but the words won’t come out. I can’t tell her. I’m not sure why but… something holds me back. On the one hand, telling Gianna that Roman and Alek both claim me for their own would definitely set some things in motion. Gianna would blab, Daddy would explode, everybody would throw a fit.

  On the other hand, Daddy would be humiliated, I would be labelled a putana or worse, and who would protect me then? After all, I guess if Roman’s right, if those guys at the airport really weren’t Daddy’s men (and he swore they weren’t but you know how Daddy’s are), then I might need Roman after all. What he did… What I saw… It makes me shudder to remember it.

  “I mean him,” I correct myself, resolving for the thousandth time to leave Alek out of the story completely. “You didn’t see him... Roman, the look in his eyes…”

  She presses her lips together and shakes her head. She doesn't want me to tell her the story again like I told it a thousand times over the past couple of days. At first she was horrified. A few times she told me she was even impressed by what Roman did for me, but then I made sure she understood just how brutal he was. Just how callous.

  He's a monster, and no amount of white silk or white roses or pink orchids is going to change that.

  But look at her there. I can't ruin this day for her either. Since we were little we always talked about our wedding days and since I'm going first, I need to set a good example. I can't just destroy the idea for her. What if she gets married off? Her dad is a capo after all. She may not realize it, but she's just as likely to be a chess piece in this stupid game as I am.

  “You don’t have to love him, you know,” she says softly, as though she’s given this a lot of thought. “I mean, maybe you will one day… I hope you will… But you don’t have to love him to do what’s right, Marie.”

  I know we have to say these kinds of things to each other, but it’s still painful to hear the words.

  A soft knock comes at the door. Gianna’s eyes flicker toward it and then back up to me in a last beseeching expression. “That's the car,” she says softly. “It's time, Marie. Are you ready?”

  I nod stiffly. I'm as ready as I'm going to be.

  Gianna stands in her fuchsia bridesmaid’s gown, a beautiful one-shouldered shift that we picked out probably ten years ago. I wish she didn't have to waste that dress on this day either, but I don't say anything about it.

  She holds her hand out to me and helps me to standing. I look at myself one more time in the mirror and tell myself I'm just going to meet my Prince Charming. Maybe he'll swoop in on the way there and kidnap me. Maybe none of this will go down the way that I'm afraid it will.

  Well, a girl has to hope.

  Gianna leads me out to the waiting town car, festooned with silk flowers and ribbons. Jimmy Two-Fist opens the door for me, his cheeks all wet with tears. Jesus, he’s already a mess. What the hell is he gonna do during the ceremony? Sob like a little kid?

  He kisses my hand before I drop myself into the backseat of the Town Car. Somehow I manage to give him a little smile and then tell myself that's good. That's good practice. I'm going to have to spend the whole day smiling at people whether I like it or not.

  The ride to the hall is only a few minutes. I have no idea how Daddy got the White Smith Hall booked on such short notice, but everybody is here. As the Town Car slows in front of the entrance, a huge crowd parts. There have to be three hundred people standing outside waiting for me and I catch my breath in surprise.

  “See? It's just how you thought it would be, Marie,” Gianna murmurs in my ear. I nod quietly, fighting back a wave of angry tears that threaten to burst from my eyes at any moment.

  It is just how I thought it would be. Back in the days where I thought I'd get treated like royalty, I imagined a crowd of a hundred people waiting for me to arrive. I imagined this beautiful dress. I imagined how the door would open and I'd step out into the sunlight, shielding my eyes and smiling as pretty as I could before I stepped onto the white carpet that they rolled out for me.

  All of it is happening, and I couldn't feel worse about it.

  Daddy comes forward and offers me his arm. I curl my hand around his elbow gratefully and lean on him as he guides me toward the front doors and into the dark space beyond. He says something nice against my hair but I can't even hear him. I'm just trying to keep it together at this point.

  The crowd follows behind us and we stand at the back of the room as everyone files into their seats. They have taken down the partition walls to expand the space to its full capacity, seven hundred people if I remember correctly.

  Seven hundred people dropped everything they were doing to come and see Don Lauro's daughter getting married to this Russian monster, and we’re all supposed to act like it's the happiest day ever.

  I want to die.

  For long moments we stand at the back of the room. My core is trembling as I hear the combined rustling noises of a few hundred people all settling into their seats at once. A strange, thick hush falls over the room. Far ahead of me, I see Gianna taking her place in the short row of bridesmaids on the left side of the altar. On the right side, two burly Russian thugs stand there stiffly in their suits, trying not to flex th
eir arms against the tight fabric. Arms as thick as tree trunks. Eyes as dead as coins.

  And there in the middle: Roman. And just behind him: Alek. They wear sharp, midnight black tuxedos and thin ties. Their dark eyes pierce me from across the room. Alek is grinning. Roman looks resolved, like the priest is just about to loop a noose around his neck and he’s just made peace with God.

  “I'm so sorry I couldn't get the Sacred Sister Chapel,” Daddy whispers in my ear. “Something about a cardinal’s funeral, can you believe it?”

  I raise a couple fingers in the air to let him know it's all right. What else am I going to do? At least we are not doing this in a church. Maybe God can’t see it from there. Maybe he doesn't know what a terrible, terrible thing we’re doing today.

  The music starts, and Daddy tugs me forward gently. He's walking me down the aisle. This is my wedding. It's really happening. I sort of want to run to the end, just to get it over with. Instead we have to take one step at a time, pausing in between so that everyone can turn around and stare at me.

  I'm so grateful for the veil over my face. So grateful. I see a hundred people or more and that I've only ever met once. They all look so happy, just so very pleased with what's happening. I don't want to let them down, and so I keep my head high as we walk forward.

  Finally at the end of the aisle, Daddy holds me close in one urgent, final embrace. I want to beg him to make it stop, but I know he won't anyway. I push him away gently and nod so he knows it’s safe to leave me here. He looks devastated, absolutely crushed. Thick tears roll over his wrinkly cheeks and settle in the grooves below his chin. I reach up and wipe one away and pat him gently on the cheek. He nods solemnly and backs away.

  Taking a deep breath, I force myself to turn, to face the priest, to face Roman, to face Alek.

  Roman comes forward with his hands out, palm up. He takes my right elbow gently and guides me to stand with him in front of the priest. Gianna comes up from behind me and takes the bouquet from my trembling fist. My hands fall naturally into Roman's outstretched hands and we stand there, as still as dolls, staring at each other.

  The priest begins to speak. I can’t even hear him over the sound of my own heartbeat. I began counting every breath, one, two, three, in… one, two, three, out... Roman stares down at me like I'm a rabbit in a snare.

  I'm absolutely captured, I know that now. There's no escape. There never really was.

  When my hands tremble, Roman folds his thumbs over the back of my hands. Somehow, this calms me. At least I know that if I fall forward, he is ready to catch me with no effort at all. At least there's that.

  With the light behind his head, he's almost not ugly. A high bank of stained glass filters the bright early afternoon light into beams of crimson and violet. I'm falling into Roman’s shadow, and the light reflects off of his closely shorn hair in a sort of halo. All I can see is the dark shape of his face, and his deep, inky eyes staring down on me.

  He tugs on my wrist gently and I look up at him, confused. His eyes flicker toward the priest and I realize they’re waiting for me. They need me to say it.

  “I do,” I whisper. It’s the best I have.

  The priest begins his monotonous murmur again, and I hear Roman breathing more than I hear him say the words. He nods, and I know it's done.

  His mouth curves in a sort of frown. Not an angry frown, more of an intellectual frown. I stare at the curve of his lips until I realized suddenly that they're coming toward me.

  I hold my breath as his hand comes under my jaw, tipping my chin toward him. A whole lifetime passes between that moment and the moment his lips cover mine.

  Despite myself, I am kissing him back. I don’t know why, I just suddenly realize that I am. His lips are so warm, so strong that I can't resist. He is gentle and firm at the same time, and it is, in fact, the kiss that I always wanted.

  Finally, something is right. If we could just stand here in this kiss for the rest of the day, then maybe the day would be saved.

  But he pulls away. I find myself swaying into the empty space and his hand automatically goes to my shoulder to steady me. His lips stretch into something that looks like a smile and he nods slightly.

  “Xorocho, devushka,” I hear him murmur.

  Man and wife, man and wife.

  That's it? That’s the end of it?

  “That was some kiss,” Alek murmurs from behind Roman’s block-sized shoulder. “Way to go, brother.”

  I know that life is going to be different now, but I can't seem to get my head around this idea. We stand there for a while as people begin to applaud and stand up from their chairs. Roman takes my hand and pivots me toward the crowd so that the people can stare at us. My family is on one side and presumably Roman’s family is on the other. A sea of faces I don't recognize at all, but who seem as enthusiastically excited about this union as my family is.

  The music strikes up again and Roman and I began walking down the aisle toward the reception hall at the far end of the building. Alek catches up immediately, taking my other elbow. Am I supposed to object? I don’t even know. Instead I just let them do whatever they want.

  Drag me toward the exit, I don’t even care anymore.

  When we enter the foyer, people start throwing things at us. Birdseed, rice, whatever. Gianna catches up to me as we glide toward the reception and greets me with a pinch on the shoulder and only the smallest glance at Alek.

  So, no one is going to notice? Alek and Roman both are going to escort me and everyone is just going to act like this is normal?

  “Oh Marie! It was beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!” she coos, damp with tears.

  I nod as eagerly as I can. I hope someone took pictures, because even now, I can barely remember any of it except the kiss. Just the kiss. Everything else is a blur like a dream that's slipping away from me as soon as I wake up.

  Gianna pulls at my hand as we enter the reception hall. I catch my breath and stare at her and she claps again in excitement.

  “Oh my God, Gianna… Did you do all this?”

  She nods excitedly. I don't even know what to say. It's amazing. The room is a cavern of tables, with a stage at one end and a band setting up. It's filled with the salty, fatty tang of soup that's being ladled out into individual bowls as we're standing there.

  A tall pyramid of champagne glasses is being filled by three waiters on my right, and just beyond that I see a photo booth with a line of kids already queuing up.

  It’s really something. All this for me? I can’t believe it.

  “How did you do this so fast?”

  Gianna rolls her eyes. "So fast? It's not like we haven't been planning this for the last fifteen years, you know!”

  I nod and then pull away from Roman’s hands so I can throw my arms around her shoulders. “It's amazing, Gianna. It really is. You are amazing, the best ever!”

  She giggles and rolls her eyes while shrugging. “Oh, I know! Believe me I know!”

  It practically is a miracle, really. As people walk in, nodding and murmuring to each other, I don't even think they realize the extent of the miracle they’re witnessing. Three days to execute a gathering of this size is practically unimaginable, not to mention the cost involved. And yet, here we are.

  Roman starts to drift away from me and I tug him back forcibly. His eyebrows go up in surprise. Alek pops up over his shoulder.

  “Receiving line,” I explain.

  “Ah yes,” Alek says. When Roman shoots him a questioning look, Alek shrugs. “You just stand there and let everyone congratulate you, one by one. It’s a tradition.”

  “It’s a tradition for the bride and groom,” I say meaningfully.

  Alek snaps his lapels. “Yes,” he agrees. I want to kick him, and if he doesn’t knock it off, I will. I don’t care who’s here.

  “You need to not be here.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.”

  I glance at Roman, looking for some help, and
he just shrugs. “I don’t find you all that cute when you’re bossy,” he informs me. “That’s Alek’s thing.”

  “I don’t find either of you cute right now!” I hiss urgently. Gianna looks over at me and I pivot discreetly so she can’t read my lips or anything. “Listen,” I say in a low voice, “I think you heard the priest, Alek. Man and wife. MAN. Just the one.”

  “Not the deal, Princess.” Alek says in a bored voice like he’s tired of repeating himself.

  I try out a kittenish frown at Roman to see if that gets me anywhere, but he just looks confused.

  “All right, all right,” Alek sighs loudly. “Do you want me to kiss you too? Is that what it’s going to take?” He comes toward me with his arms out and I automatically flinch away.

  “Don’t you dare!” I stage whisper. I can see people are starting to take notice of our weird threesome and I want to run out of the room.

  But still he comes closer, stopping with his cheek next to my ear.

  “All right, Princess. I’ll wait until later,” he whispers. His breath is hot and fragrant with something like honey. A line of chills race down my arm and I curse my skin for being so obvious. “Don’t forget, now.”

  “Just get away from me,” I manage to mumble as he leans back. His eyes sparkle with mischief in a way that Roman’s eyes do not sparkle. Alek is truly enjoying this, I can tell.

  Alek shrugs and shakes his head and begins to move away again with Roman falling in right behind him. I tug at Roman’s arm forcefully to make him stand next to me as people behind us form a fairly organized queue.

  “Not you!” I hiss. “You stay with me!”

  “All right,” he sighs as he reluctantly takes his place beside me. “What is this?”

  “You just stand here and smile and let people kiss you,” I tell him. He's never seen a receiving line before? Was he raised in a cave?

  “This sounds stupid.”

  I shrug one shoulder. Is it? Maybe. “It doesn't matter. This is what we’re doing. Now smile!”