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Enzo kisses my cheek, heading over to it and opening it to allow our father to come in. Enzo steps around him and heads out of the room without another glance back at me. I try to not be hurt, knowing that he’s only acting that way because my father is around.
Marco Ambrosino hates any kind of affection. To him, emotion is weakness.
As my father comes in, I stare at him long and hard. His gray hair is gelled back much like my brothers. His suit is, of course, the finest Italian cut on the market, with shoes that look like they have been freshly polished.
I suck in a breath when he strides over to me. He is so tall he towers over me, and the disappointed stare he sends my way isn’t lost on me.
He’s really going to do this to me. And I just have to accept it.
It’s all bullshit. It hurts. It isn’t fair.
God, please. Anything. I need anything to save me, to interrupt this wedding.
My father doesn’t say anything before taking my arm and leading me out the door.
* * *
My heart pounds when I hear the organ start to play.
I try hard not to crush his arm while my own is wrapped around it. I can feel myself start to come apart again, my nerves from earlier only having been quieted by my brief talk with Enzo.
My father leads me down the long, winding hallway. We arrive before a set of double doors that face the inside of the chapel. My heart is pounding harder with each step we take.
I should’ve taken Etta up on her offer. I should have run away with her and disappeared somewhere out of the city. Maybe we could even lay low enough to escape the country and move to Italy where we always wanted to go.
The thoughts swim in my head, making me dizzy.
My father leads us down to the arched entrance and into the church, his grip on me tightening the farther we walk, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt if he doesn’t hold me close. I don’t think he’s wrong on that front. I probably would run—if I knew I could get away successfully.
Ahead of us stands a near-empty church. Only my closest family are in attendance, with Ben’s small family and Etta, my maid of honor. My father had been paranoid about my wedding being crashed by other mobster families, leaving the event to be attended by the bare minimum amount of people.
I can’t say I’m surprised, but I wish at least a few more of my friends were here. Especially if this is going to be my one and only wedding.
I look over the room as we get to the front of the aisle, my eyes widening at the sight of my fiancé. He looks terrified. His skin is flushed bright red, and the rings around his eyes contrast with the blue of his irises. They are bloodshot and puffy, looking like he’s been…crying. That can’t be right.
It creeps me out when he twitches, tugging at his shirt collar.
Did he do a massive amount of coke in the bathroom before coming out here?
The sight makes my stomach churn.
I grip my bouquet of flowers when my father steps away from me, turning me towards the priest waiting for us with a smile.
I wish my life had turned out differently, that I had been able to choose my own path.
I guess that was never in the cards for me.
Next to me, Ben lets out a small grunt. I glance over at him, seeing him shake.
Is he as nervous as I am? It seems impossible. He’s getting the much better end of the stick.
The priest raises his arms, gathering everyone’s attention.
“Dearly beloved,” he begins.
Next to me, I hear a choking sound. I turn to see Ben grip his throat. His face is turning red and nearly purple, with a visible blood vessel straining at his temple. Out of fear, I blink and back away from him. He begins to choke on something neither of us can see.
His eyes turn towards me as he drops to his knees, practically popping out of his skull while he struggles to pull in a single breath.
