Page 28 of The Casella King

“Looked better if you ask me,” he says as his mother takes a seat beside him, her eyes falling onto his hand on my thigh.

“Hell yeah, I bet it did.” One of them says, and Ezra gives them the filthiest look I have ever seen on his face. His cousin’s hands immediately come up. “I take it back, don’t shoot me.” He chuckles.

“Alright boys, that’s enough. Aries will be part of our lives now so let’s not give her a hard time,” she says, with the fakest smile I think I have ever seen.

The rest of the dinner feels like a fucking interrogation. How many siblings do you have? How much money do you make? What’s your intentions for five years into the future? What did you eat last?

By the time the end of the night rolls around, I’m exhausted and just want to sleep. I’m sure enough that all our PDA made it quite evident we were engagedfor real.

Although, I got the feeling Nico and Andrea didn’t really agree with it, Nico was accepting regardless, and I kind of liked him—he seemed light-hearted compared to the rest of the family, who was always so fucking serious about everything. Nico joked and gave me some good insights into Ezra, like how when he’s got a lot on his mind, it’s best to leave him be.

“Do you think it worked?” I ask, watching his hand resting on the steering wheel, driving us back to his place.

“I don’t give a fuck if it did or not.” He looks to me, his eyes dark. “You’re going to be my wife, and if anyone has a problem with that, there’s an easy solution.” He smiles, and the dark of the night makes it seem terrifying, eerily sinister, and psychotic.

I know Giselle doesn’t agree, and she knows there’s something shifty going on because who the fuck buys a house for someone just out of the blue, and then her sister announces she’s marrying that said someone the week after?

Regardless of what she thinks, I need to make this work. I somewhat feel like I’m forced to do this because of what Ezra’s done for my family, and part of me likes that about him—whether or not he did it so I would agree to his proposal, or just because he felt like it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, it’s done now, and I need to play my part.

The good, doting mafia wife.

I stare at the wedding dress sprawled across the hotel bed, and the foulest of feelings sprawl in my belly.

My heart thumps beneath my chest, threatening to break through my paper-thin ribs. I watch the clock on the wall, hearing the seconds tick by as the antique clock continues to work, nothing fazing its movements. It’s almost one p.m., and the ceremony is already delayed by half an hour because he’s late. I look over to my sister Giselle, who’s dressed in her blush pink bridesmaid dress, watching me.

“He’ll be here,” she promises, but I don’t believe it for a second.

I feel my heart break slowly with each minute that passes, the slow realisation setting in that he is not coming. I rip the pins out of my hair, one by one, launching them across the room, tears stinging behind my eyes as I struggle to undo the zipper of my dress. Giselle stands, a worried look on her face.

“Okay, okay.” She tries to grab my hands. “Let’s calm down.” She tries to control my rage, but it’s too late. I feel it brimming, begging for release.

I let out a scream, a toe-curling, shiver inducing scream that fills the entire room, and I’m pretty sure all the guests heard it too. I wipe my lipstick off my lips with the back off my hand and grab my dress with both hands, so I won’t trip, and I run.

I run out of the church and onto the road, with no destination in sight.

I feel the wind in my face and my hair, pushing my tears to the side of my face. My throat closes up again as I remember what I’m running from.

Embarrassment, heartbreak, disappointment, you name it, I feel it.

I drop to my knees, in my ball gown wedding dress, in the middle of some park, and cover my face with both hands, giving in to my tears. I feel myself breaking, and I don’t know how to stop it.

I feel my heartbeat quicken, my knees feeling weak. I stumble over to the bathroom, bile surging up to my throat as I grab the toilet bowl and hurl the entire contents of my stomach into it.

I can’t do this.

I feel myself start to sweat; my palms are beginning to feel clammy as I try to swallow down the urge to vomit again.

There’s a knock at the door, and Giselle’s voice filters through.

“Hey, I just came to see if you need help getting into your dress. Your fiancé was insisting on seeing you, but you know, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

I don’t respond because my mind is too focused on fighting off this anxiety attack. A few moments pass before she knocks again.

“Aries, are you okay in there?” she asks and still no reply from me. I grasp the edge of the basin and force myself up from the floor. I hold on to the basin as if I’m breaking and crumbling all over again. I hear muffled voices from the door, one of them sounds familiar, but my head feels light until I can no longer make out my own reflection in the mirror in front of me.

“No, wait you can’t go in there, it’s bad luck.” Her sister tries to stop me, but like hell she will.

“I don’t give a fuck about a stupid fucking tradition!” I yell as I take a few steps back from the door.

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