Page 1 of Mafia Princess


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Chapter One

“Let’s get your veil on,” my cousin Natalia said in her chipper voice. Natalia attempted a good attitude through all of this, and in any other situation, I’d appreciate her energy, but today it made the situation even more oppressive. Her happy tone made me want to cry even harder than I already was.

I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.

“Wow,” Natalia said, placing her round face next to mine in the mirror. Her dark hair was in a sleek ponytail, and she looked lovely and happy next to my misery.

“I don’t think lovely covers how beautiful you look, Sasha.”

I tried to smile at her words, but it came out as more of a grimace. In the ornate mirror of the church, my face looked pale. It was clear that I was unhappy. I had never spent a lot of time thinking about what I would look like when I married, but I had always assumed I would be happy about it.

Instead, I felt as though the walls were closing in upon me.

“Can everyone leave?” I asked suddenly. I placed a hand on my chest. All of a sudden, I felt as though I couldn’t breathe.

No one spoke. The tension in the room felt so thick that I could hardly

breathe. Natalia’s face fell as she glanced at me, and I saw my mother frown in the mirror. My bridesmaids looked around, unsure of what to do.

After all, I wasn’t calling the shots today. My mother was, and she had made it clear that no one was to leave me alone. I hadn’t even been able to go to the bathroom myself.

“Please leave,” I asked again as I stared at myself in the mirror. The tears had stopped flowing, but I felt as though I was going to start hyperventilating at any moment.

I had a panic attack. I have had a couple in the last few years.

I began gasping as my lungs constricted in panic. Clutching my chest, I bent over, trying to catch my breath, which was made all the more difficult by the tight bodice of the wedding dress my mother had picked up.

“Leave,” I heard my mother bark as various women moved towards me. I could feel her red-lacquered fingernails digging into the sleeves of my dress. She shooed them away before gripping my upper arms tightly.

If I cared, I would have warned her about ripping the sleeve of my dress.

“Get yourself together,” she barked, shaking me with such force that my teeth rattled in my head. It didn’t help me catch my breath.

“Don’t make me do this,” I begged my mother through gasping breaths. I knew my pleas would fall on deaf ears. After all, my parents were the ones selling me off to the Italians. I thought I’d made my peace with that, but standing in front of the mirror in my bridal gown, I realized that I hadn’t given up yet. I couldn’t.

“Please, mother. You can’t make me marry him,” I begged once more. My fear was so intense that I thought that it would crush me.

My mother and I did not have the best relationship, but I expected her to show more emotion at the thought of selling me off to our enemies.

“Please,” I begged once more as she led me over to the couch.

“Control your breathing Sasha,” my mother said as she rubbed my back. To the outside, her actions looked maternal, but she was practically slapping me on the back.

“In and out. In and out,” she coached.

Eventually, my breathing returned to normal, but my panic at the thought of marrying Dominic Blanchi heightened with each tick of the clock.

“Now, you need to get yourself together,” she said as she detangled herself from my prone form and walked back towards the mirror. “Come, Sasha,” she commanded. “Your father will be here shortly, and we do not want to concern him with this.”

She grabbed a lipstick and held it out. It was clear that she wanted me to come over and fix my makeup. She wanted me to walk down the aisle, the perfect doll.

My mother was not the touchy-feely type. Even as a child, she refused to coddle me and instead left the maternal experiences up to nannies. I’m confident that she paid them extra to hug and kiss me simply so that she wouldn’t have to. It hadn’t bothered me up until recently. After all, it was hard to be bothered by the lack of something you never had. But sitting here in the bridal suite of our family church on my wedding day, I wished my mother wasn’t so cold and unfeeling. I needed her now more and ever, and not having her made me feel truly alone.

“Maybe father will see the ridiculousness of this situation,” I shouted as my frustration and desperation grew exponentially at her dismissal. Typically, I was soft-spoken. I’d been trained since birth to be seen and not heard, but I couldn’t contain myself. I could hardly believe that my parents would sell me off to the family that had been our enemies my entire life.

“Your father betrothed you to the Blanchi’s,” she said. “He’s not likely to try and save you. Now, come,” she commanded.

Getting up, I made my way towards her. Even upset, I knew better than to disobey. That would only cause me more pain in the end.

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