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Who will be her bridesmaids?
“Given I’m paying for it, we should discuss the dates and details privately,” Joe says.
“Oh.” Mia’s eyes go wide.
“You’re not paying for a thing,” I state firmly, and the room goes silent.
Even Cade raises a brow, taken aback.
Nobody was privy to our earlier conversation.
I’ve been reasonably quiet, mostly because Mia wants me to fit into her family. Fake or not. Her family is important to her. However, it’s time I set those same boundaries with everyone else.
This is a mafia family, and again, if I want their respect, I need to claim it. They’re like a pack of fucking dogs. If you don’t bark loudly, you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the pecking order.
Or the ocean.
“Mia is my fiancé and my responsibility. We will be paying for our wedding. Buy us a nice gift instead.” I smile dangerously.
Let me translate:I’m far richer than you. Your daughter belongs to me now.
Cade loses his shit and tosses his napkin on his plate. “Are you going to allow this, Father?”
Joe sends a death look down the table at me. “No, I won’t. We will go halves.”
The fact he even offered a compromise makes me want to laugh. It didn’t go unnoticed, as Mia’s aunties nearly break their necks staring between me and Joe. Cade continues ranting, but my attention has shifted to Mia, who has gone quiet.
I glance down at her, and she’s gritting her teeth.
“Mia?”
“Hello. Bride here. Do I have a say?” Mia asks as her eyes move from mine to the rest of the room.
The entire table saysno!
Now I’m mad. I take her hand, and she turns angry, upset eyes to mine.
“Would you like to get married here?” I ask, privately. The section is enormous. I could’ve landed the chopper on the front lawn. There’s plenty of room for a marquee and hundreds of guests.
It’s perfect.
But as her eyes begin to glisten, I realize the momentous mistake I just made.
Shit.
“Forget it,” I say, dropping my napkin.
What was I thinking?
This marriage is fake. The last thing Mia wants to do is fulfill some childhood dream of getting married at her family home.
“Do you, Mia?” her father asks, and I flinch.
Crap, I thought I had spoken quieter.
“I need to think about it,” she replies, refusing to look at anyone.
That’s it. I’m taking her out of here.
