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Maddox
Ablink of an eye is all it took to be standing beside the priest, preparing to give my life away to the Romani family. Where did the hours go? Night turned to day, and then I was picked up by The King’s men and brought to my wedding.
I spent the night alone in my apartment. Unable to sleep, my mind raced with thoughts of Isabella. It is impossible to pinpoint the emotions I have for her. Love? Lust? I can’t say. I have a desperate need to spend my days with her, yet there are no rumblings or stirrings of love in my heart. I want to take her, my hands between her thighs as they were in that changing room, but I know it won’t be fucking. It will be gentle, tender…Perhaps even love-making. The mismatched sensations of love and lust blend together, in a mess of confusion. Nausea fills my gut.
Have I become such a good lapdog that The King’s offer makes me want her? No question in what’s right or wrong, only mourning the hours Isabella isn’t by my side? Or is love such a foreign concept to me, that I’d not understand it even if I did feel it?
I grew up in a broken home. My father, a mafia boss, taught me how to hate and kill. He never once patted me on the shoulder or said good job, Son. Bruno Romani showed me more fatherly affection at that dinner table than my father had in all my years.
The wedding is held on the palace’s grounds; in their enormous backyard. The priest stands beneath an arch, wreathed in white roses, behind a wooden pulpit with his hands together in front of him. Three women stand opposite me; Isabella’s bridesmaids. Behind me, Dominic and two other Romanis wait.
The scorching mid-afternoon sun bakes me in my black tuxedo. I’ve spent the morning greeting notable members from the Slater, Harrison, Romani, and Braddock families. All have wished me well on this magnificent occasion. Even my father managed to bury the hatchet and greet me with a smile on his face.
Aaron is still sour. The bruise on his forehead is reason enough, I suppose.
It’s hard to place my emotion. I’m floating on a cloud, high above the sky and hidden somewhere in a dreamscape. Is it a dream? Is it a nightmare? Have I slipped the bounds of reality and transcended into absolute madness?
The sweet scent of newly budding flowers and lavender wafts over to us, carried by the wind. A small band off to one side plays Ave Maria on harp, acoustic bass, and guitar. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming.
Rows of chairs stretch out before me, full of silent faces. We’re all waiting. Soon, the music will shift, and Isabella will walk down the aisle, Bruno at her side.
“You ready for this, big boy?” Dominic asks in a hushed whisper.
“Ready as I can be,” I reply. I don’t turn to him, staying focused ahead.
“Well, let me just say, it’ll be an honor to serve by your side.” Dominic slaps my back. He sounds sincere.
I’ve always worked alone. Bringing anyone into a job only adds complications. I don’t intend for that to change once this wedding is over.
“Have you seen Isabella today?” I ask. It’s my understanding that, in addition to his role as a bodyguard, Isabella and Dominic are friends. I’d much rather talk about her than discuss my future as part of the Romani family.
“Sure, saw her this morning to wish her well. Why?” Dominic replies.
“How’s she taking all of this?”
“Fine,” Dominic says. “She seemed pissed when the news first dropped, but Isabella’s turned around. Told me about the beating you delivered last night.”
Dominic chuckles, we both turn to look at Aaron, sitting cross-armed and still looking annoyed at me. Is she really coming around to it? It feels so implausible. She was a doe in the headlights, that night with Vik and now she’s happily handing herself over to me?
Something doesn’t feel right about it.
Before I can question it any further, the music cuts off. A few more members of the orchestra hop up onto the stage, and lift various stringed instruments. A young man lifts a microphone to his mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride, Isabella Romani,” he announces. And with it, Wagner’s Bridal Chorus starts playing. My heart starts pounding in my chest. My legs feel numb. I steady myself on Dominic, and he doesn’t seem to mind.
No going back now.
Then, from what seems like out of nowhere, Isabella and Bruno appear. Her dress is satin, white, and clings to her curves with a long train running behind her, dragging on with each step. Like Isabella, the dress is simple, understated, and beautiful. She’s showing no sign of fear or doubt; just walking confidently beside her father.
The gathered guests rubberneck to get a glimpse of the beautiful bride. A humble smile graces Bruno’s lips as he leads her towards me. The sun catches a twinkle in his eye, a threat of tears. If I didn’t know any better, I might assume this was all real.
Bruno pauses at the last row of chairs, before finding his own, while Isabella walks to me alone. She shoots me a smile, melting my heart.
“You look absolutely stunning,” I say.
“You’re not half bad yourself,” she replies.
She takes her place in front of me, besides the priest. He’s jolly; a warm, fatherly smile plays on his face. His black robes, reach down to the ground. I place him as a Catholic but have no idea what faith the Romanis follow.
“Are you ready for this?” I’ve been meaning to ask her that question for days now. No point in delaying it.
“Of course, Maddox.” I’m met with puppy dog eyes.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” the priest speaks, before I can get another word in. Things moved so quickly, that I never learned his name.
I care for it even less, now, with this beautiful woman standing in front of me.
* * *
