Page 51 of Family Ties

“And there’s the bride and groom.”

A voice booms from behind us, loud and demanding. The tone comes drenched in honey-dipped nicety that can only be taken at face value. The telltale stiffening in Enzo’s body warns me this is someone powerful. There’s more though, because Enzo’s teeth grind together and his smile is so forced and tight it might shatter at any moment.

“Oleg, it’s good to see you,” Enzo says, his mouth barely moves as he forces the words out. The man, Oleg, doesn’t look at Enzo. He’s staring at me. He studies me, taking me in. The only other person who gazes at me with such intensity is Enzo, yet nothing about the way this man is looking says he’s appreciating what he’s seeing. I press my body a little more firmly into Enzo’s side and he tightens his grip on me.

“Well, are you going to introduce me to your lovely bride? I have just been dying to meet her.” The silent stare off is drawing attention. I can see whispers being passed among the bored wives of the men who are too busy talking to each other to notice the shift of tension in the room. I never thought organized crime would be so gossipy, but there’s a history between these two. One that has the housewives of organized crime watching them like it’s the latest season of reality tv.

Oleg is dangerous. Anyone within his vicinity can tell. I almost want to laugh at him, the way he looks like a stereotype pulled out of an old movie with his hair slicked back and the carefully groomed facial hair. Cartoon villain, crime boss, this is a man who has mastered the sinner aesthetic. The only thing stopping me is that I don’t think he’s above shooting me at my engagement party.

“Oleg, this is Emma, my fiancée.” Everything Enzo says has an intention far deeper than I can read into. The slimy grin on Oleg’s face falters, if only momentarily. If I hadn’t been staring at him so intently, studying the way he interacts with Enzo, I would have missed it.

“Emma,” he says, as if testing the way the name rolls off his tongue. The face he makes tells me he thinks it doesn’t come off well at all. “Emma, I don’t think we ever met before. This typically isn’t a lifestyle one comes into without connections. How did you and Enzo meet?”

“We met at Andy and Bianca’s wedding,” I tell him, keeping my answer very surface level. It was an unsatisfactory answer, one that only leads to more questions, but it’s all I’m willing to provide.

“Andy and Bianca’s wedding? That was what, five or six years ago? We weren’t friendly back then, so I didn’t receive an invitation,” Oleg says with a chuckle. I almost wince. Enzo hasn’t spoken to me much about the family business, and I haven’t asked questions. I rather keep my innocence about what I’m walking into than live in anxiety every day. Now, staring face to face with someone who I’m pretty sure wants me dead, I don’t know if I made the correct decision.

The verbal conversation stilts, but I can tell there’s a conversation I’m not a part of still happening between the two men. Unflinching stares and cruel smiles. It’s a language I’m not sure I’ll ever be fluent in. A language that can convey a threat without the words being spoken.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my daughter as my plus one. Being a widow is a difficult thing and I hate coming to these sorts of events alone,” Oleg says. He beckons with his fingers and a gorgeous woman with long blonde hair peels herself away from the group she’s been conversing with.

She’s wearing a tight red dress that leaves little to the imagination and showcases all of her best features. It’d be easy to let myself feel self-conscious in her presence. Before Matteo, I probably would have been. I found peace in my body when I had been pregnant, and it helped me to cope with all the changes that had come in the postpartum period. My breasts were larger than they were before I got pregnant, and they didn’t sit as high on my chest. There were stretch marks on my cleavage from how quickly they grew. The skin around my waist is looser and no amount of weight loss will get rid of it. I have stretch marks stretching from my groin to my belly button and ones on my thighs and hips. Even my feet got bigger with pregnancy.

Every ounce of weight gained and every stretch mark that appeared had come with a purpose: to grow and protect my son. I refuse to be ashamed of that. If Enzo were to run because of the effects growing his child had on my body, then it wouldn’t be a loss.

“Enzo, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” the blonde practically purrs, not acknowledging the fact I’m on his arm. I hold in my snicker when Enzo looks at her with casual disinterest.

“Nina,” Enzo says, his own voice flat and uninterested. He doesn’t bother to grace her with a smile. If this bothers her at all, she doesn’t let on. “If you’ll excuse me, my fiancée and I have some other people we need to meet.”

As Enzo pulls us away from the pair, a delicate hand shoots out to grab onto his wrist. “Leaving so soon? I hoped we could catch up. Maybe somewhere private.”

I hold back my scoff. The audacity she must have to shamelessly throw herself at someone’s fiancee right in front of them. My hand tightens on Enzo. For a minute, that bitter insecurity I thought I’d laid to rest rises within me. Obviously, this is the type of woman Enzo is expected to be with.

Enzo glares at the hand like it’s a parasite attempting to nest on him. He pinches one of the perfectly manicured fingers between his thumb and pointer finger and uses it to rip the entire hand off him. After flicking her away, Enzo looks over at her father.

“If you want an invitation to this Lombardi wedding, you should probably remember your place,” he growls at the two of them. Oleg narrows his eyes at him, a slimy smile weaseling its way onto his face.

“I’ll be reaching out about another meeting here soon to go over what will be necessary for us to keep our alliance,” Oleg tells him. Enzo nods his head.

“You know how to reach my father,” he says before pulling us back into the crowd.

We make our way through the crowd. Enzo introduces me to various associates, and we accept their congratulations on our engagement.

When we finally find a break to be by ourselves, I can’t stop myself from asking. “So, how do you know Nina?”

Enzo watches me closely. I try not to give away the ugly feeling budding inside of me at her name. I’m not sure I succeed, but he doesn’t push. “Her father is an associate we are brokering a deal with. He was under the impression the deal would include a marriage between his daughter and I.”

“And what gave him that idea?”

Enzo raises a single eyebrow up at me. “Your father.”

I curse under my breath. My father thinks he can control the world. And I understand in his way, he saw it as protecting Matteo and I. If Enzo were married to someone else, someone who looks like Nina, then he wouldn’t notice when I came back into town.

“I need to go check on Matteo,” I tell Enzo.

Matteo was in one of the bedrooms attached to the club. I had spent a long time debating whether it would be best to bring him with us or leave him at home. Ultimately, it made the most sense to bring him, even if I’m not ready to introduce him to people as Enzo’s son. This way, no one has to stay behind with him. Instead, family members cycle in and out of the party and up to the room where Matteo is staying, making sure he is never left alone, but no one is ever away from the party long enough to raise suspicions.

It was a stark change in conversation, but if Enzo suspects the bubbling jealousy, he says nothing. He just placed his hand on my lower back and leads me towards the exit.

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