Page 25 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

Marie didn’t quite understand how a mother could let another woman take her child away, but she wasn’t this family or Matteo’s mother. She had a feeling Celeste was the type of woman that you didn’t often say no to, as well. It was all strange, but no stranger than her own parentage, or upbringing. Just a different kind of strange.

Marie smiled politely as extended relatives were introduced, more cousins, and then a slew of family friends. She forgot most of their names after a while because it all became a blur of introductions, small talk, and then on to the next one. Marie felt anxiety tighten her throat with each passing name, with each new face, but she pushed it down.

She’d learned to hide her emotions from her mother, learned to hide hunger and misery from her teachers and the occasional social worker, she could get through this. She smiled, nodded, spoke when she had to, and held onto Matteo’s hand like it was her one and only lifeline.

She’d had two glasses of white wine by the time his aunt made her entrance. The entire room went quiet as the door opened and people saw who was there. They went quiet not only because she was the head of the family, but because she had eyes only for Matteo. Very angry, very cold eyes, Marie noted.

He stood his ground though and didn’t let go of Marie’s hand at all as the woman in a silver sequined dress that fit her slim form snugly walked up to greet them. Her hair was black as night, streaked with a few strands of silver, but it didn’t make her look older, it made her somehow sexier, but in the way that mythical vampires and goddesses of old could be alluring, sensual, but still quite deadly.

“Matteo. I see you’ve brought your… wife.” Her brown eyes took in her nephew with disinterest before they turned to Marie. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Marie said with a short smile. She looked the woman in the eye, afraid that if she showed deference Celeste would try to walk all over her for the rest of her life, but also afraid that not showing deference could be a deadly mistake. She chose to go with not being a doormat.

“So, you’re my dead husband’s child. Welcome home.” She held her cheek out and Marie bent to peck at it. Celeste pulled away with cold eyes, surprisingly cold eyes for someone with eyes that dark. “I hope you enjoy your time with us.”

Celeste said it as if Marie had only come for a vacation and nothing more. Matteo was about to reproach her when Celeste moved away and headed for Trina’s mother and father without another word.

“Well, we survived that,” Matteo said and Marie breathed a sigh of relief.

“We did. For now. I have a feeling that’s not the end of it.” Marie clutched at his hand and they left the room. He took her out to a balcony at the back of the building, even though the air was cold. He knew she needed a break from the hot room and the strained nerves the situation was causing her, and she was grateful. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Believe me. I need a break as much as you do.” He leaned against the railing and looked at the small patch of garden behind the building.

“Well, as you said, the hard part is over. We get through dinner, and then we’re free for the rest of the night.” She sat down on a small chair in the corner of the balcony, cold but happy to be out of that room. He’d been right, she saw the way everyone stared at her, whispered as she moved around the room. They’d accepted her, but only because of Matteo. They would turn on her if it wasn’t for him and throw her out to the wolves. Or perhaps they were the wolves.

“We’re going straight home. We don’t exchange gifts so once dinner is done, we can leave.” He sounded as relieved as she felt.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she said to him with just a trace of sarcasm.

“It will be once I get you home, Marie.” He took one last deep breath and turned back towards her. “Are you ready to go inside? She’ll be ready to start dinner now that she’s come down.”

“Quite dramatic, isn’t she?” she whispered close to him her arm twined around his.

“Very. That entrance was very much planned, believe me.” Matteo swore under his breath and looked down at her. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“It’s just family politics, Matteo. Don’t worry. I’m not a scared little bunny about to scamper away.” She reassured him with a smile, but it was fake. She wanted to run very far away, as fast as possible, and they both knew it.

“You’re a brave lady, Marie, even if you don’t know it.” He pecked the top of her head and they went into the ballroom to find it almost empty. Trina was still in there.

“Come on, let’s eat so we can get out of here. I have a real party to get to later and this is cutting into my drinking time.” Trina laughed with a sweet trill as she came up to them, a contrast to her words. The words came out edgy, tough, but that laugh was pure sugary sweetness.

She was an enigma that Marie couldn’t figure out so she stopped trying to and went with it. They went into a long room with a very long table inside. People were sat on each side with Celeste at the head. Three places had been saved up at the top by Celeste. Matteo, Marie, and Trina’s places she soon figured out as Trina walked up to her aunt and sat down.

“Good to see you again,” Celeste started right away, and Marie turned to her with a frozen smile.

“Hello. Thank you for having us over for this special occasion.” Marie had practiced that in her head a hundred times, changed the words, tried to perfect the sentence until that was what she came up with.

“It’s my pleasure. It’s not every day a woman gets to have her husband’s illegitimate child at her table, after all. It’s a… special treat, isn’t it?” Celeste pursed her lips and looked down her nose at Marie with nothing but pure hatred.

“I can go if you prefer?” Marie met that glacial stare head-on without a flinch. “I was under the impression you invited me here, but if not, I can leave with my deepest apologies.”

“No, of course not. You’re right. My apologies.” From the way her jaw worked and her eyes closed, Marie knew Celeste wasn’t really sorry at all. It was more like she was trying to control her disgust. Marie couldn’t blame her, but then, Celeste did invite her here. It was her own fault she had to eat with her dead husband’s bastard, wasn’t it?

“Thank you.” Marie turned away to look at Matteo, sat across from her on Celeste’s right.

“Stab that old biddy with your butter knife, Marie,” Trina whispered once Celeste’s attention had turned to someone two seats down from Matteo.

“What?” Marie gasped softly and turned to stare at Trina with horror.