Page 18 of Fatal Sloth

He drags me down the aisle as if he's late for another meeting, not even allowing my father to give me away properly. Everyone quickly scrambles to their seats as Karen walks up to stand next to me, while another man I remember seeing at our engagement party but wasn't introduced to, stands on the other side of Sebastiano.

Before the ceremony can start, he glances at the man standing next to him and at Karen, then instructs them to take a seat. The man complies, but Karen, ready to stand her ground, hesitates until Sebastiano looks her dead in the eyes. “I don't like repeating myself.” Bowing her head, she reluctantly takes her seat next to my father without a word spoken.

As the ceremony proceeds, Sebastiano maintains a sour demeanor, almost as if he's bored and would rather be anywhere else but here in this church, with me beside him. I stare at the brute in front of me, taking in his appearance as the priest starts speaking. He's wearing a black-on-black suit with a white shirt underneath. He has opted out of wearing a tie and left a few top buttons undone, revealing what looks like tattoos peeking out. I didn't notice those in the bathroom or at the club. He's a jerk, but at least he’s nice to look at.

Lost in thought, I don't realize I've been asked a question until I feel his elbow nudge me, and I look up to see the priest smiling. Realizing what he’s asked, I mumble an “I do.” Sebastiano then rushes out, "I do," before the priest can finish the question. When I hear, "You may now kiss your bride," I freeze, uncertain of what to expect from him. Sebastiano sneers at the priest, turning on his heels.

Spoiler alert: no kiss happens.

Embarrassment floods my features as I realize I expected him to kiss me. He grabs my hand, pulling me down the aisle towards the double doors. Once we're outside, he shoves me toward a burly-looking man standing in front of the first of three SUVs. "Take her to the house," he barks before waltzing off and sliding into the passenger seat of the second SUV. My mouth hangs open in shock as embarrassment heats my cheeks, watching my new husband peel away to God knows where while another man I barely know drives me to my next prison.

12

Sebastino

Jumping in the SUV like my ass is on fire. I can’t unsee that look of hurt in her eyes when I shoved her towards Daren. It's like a punch to the gut, and it weighs heavily on my shoulders, dragging me down into a pit of regret and frustration. But there's no time to dwell on it now, not with Enzo beside me, shooting off his smart-ass remarks like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“Bit of a dick move, huh?” Enzo quips as he shifts the car into drive.

“Just fucking drive, Enzo.” I'm not in the mood for this.

I'm aware that it's a dick move, and I don't need to be reminded.

“I thought you were good with this happening,” he says with a sly smirk.

Staring out the window, I don't even bother responding. Not like I know what the fuck got into me; I’m just fucked up.

Enzo's phone blares through the Bluetooth, bringing me out of my thoughts. Before I can see who it is, Enzo comments, "It’s your father."

"Don't answer it."

"Hello, Don Antonio," Enzo chirps through the Bluetooth.

Didn’t I just tell him not to answer?

"Where is my damn son?" Dad's voice booms through the car, making my head pound more than it already is.

"Urh. Um," Enzo stammers, clearly caught off guard by the directness of Dad's question.

"Enzo, where is he?" Dad's frustration is palpable.

Fuck, he’s pissed. "I’m right here, what's up?" I respond, acting calm despite the chaos swirling around us.

"Where the fuck are you? You can't just leave your wedding like that," Dad snaps.

"This wedding was for you, not me. I did my part and left," I retort, my tone laced with defiance.

"Sebastiano Antonio Morelli. You have five minutes to get to this reception or-"

I cut him off before he can finish, refusing to entertain his threats.

"Just say we are excited to consummate the marriage and have started our honeymoon." Hopefully, he buys it because I'm not going back, and we aren't taking a honeymoon, but it gives me time to get my shit together without him down my throat.

"Fine, go take your honeymoon," putting too much emphasis on the ending of the word.

I’m ready to hang up, but he keeps going.

"You have two years to produce an heir, or I'll consider this a broken deal. And you know the outcome." I swear I can feel him laughing through the phone as all my breath leaves my body.

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