Page 17 of Koroleva

For a moment, I allowed myself to take in the surroundings. No matter how beautiful the place was, how beautifully it was decorated, and how damn fuckable my future husband looked, my mission remained the same, to end him and all his lineage.

The priest fell silent. I tried to understand why. I realized we had just reached the climax of the ceremony, and there was some kind of problem. I heard Massimo urging R's young son to bring us the rings, whether he wanted to or not.

It dawned on me that I hadn't even noticed if the priest had said my future husband's name. I hadn't caught it. I was so absorbed in the noise my own thoughts were making that I could only hear myself.

The boy refused to bring the pillow, clinging to his chair. My mother brought out her most maternal skills, offering the boy some promise while giving my father-in-law eyelash flutters that made him lift the corners of his mouth.

Disgusting.

Nothing made the damn kid move.

"Adriano," R's voice thundered in a warning tone. The little one immediately shrank back and looked at him with a frightened face. Was he afraid of his father? With all those tattoos, his size, and the reputation he held, I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe he had laid a hand on him. Italians were very fond of spanking. "Your grandfather told you to bring the rings, so bring them."

The little one scowled, I had no idea how old he was, six, seven, eight? It had been too long since I'd seen one that age. Since my sister was little. Not that it mattered how old he was, I wasn't planning to spend a minute with that brat, let alone act as a mother. I had enough on my plate without wasting time on him.

The boy grabbed the pillow, came up to us grumpily, and when he reached my side, he stomped on my foot so hard it made me see stars and roar, "Damn son of the devil!", which fortunately came out in Russian.

By the look on R's face, he caught that I hadn't said anything nice to his offspring. As if I would.

The little brat threw the pillow, which flew past my pained face and his father's perplexed one, to be caught by the priest. What reflexes! He was clearly prepared to catch the communion wafers mid-flight.

As soon as he threw it, Adriano ran back to his seat. He climbed onto the chair and curled his body around his bent knees.

R looked at the boy angrily, and he buried his head between his legs to avoid looking at him.

"Nice kid you have there, you should sign him up for baseball or take him grape stomping. Stomping grapes is much more productive than fucking up my foot, especially since I'm wearing sandals."

"He needs a mother to teach him right from wrong. Don't worry, from today you'll have plenty of time to adjust to each other," he said sarcastically.

"Excuse me? I'm not his mother, nor a nanny, if you want that, you better find someone else," I challenged him, "or maybe we should send him to a boarding school to get rid of so much nonsense. There are some Catholic ones that teach a lot of discipline. Right, father?" I muttered slyly. R looked at me displeased.

"Per favore," pleaded the priest. "It's time for the vows."

I was eager for all this damn charade to be over once and for all.

I knew the text we had to recite by heart. Massimo had been kind enough to send it to me by order of the priest to my email, so it wasn't going to be very difficult to answer correctly.

"Husband and wife, do you come to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and willingly?" I almost felt like laughing. R didn't look at me.

"Yes, we come freely."

"Are you resolved to love and respect each other for life, in the way of marriage?" "Of course, the life of my future husband was going to be very short and I planned to love every torture I inflicted on him."

"Yes, we are resolved."

"Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God, and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church?" The priest glanced towards the devil incarnate in Adriano, and I swallowed hard.

"Yes, we are prepared."

I stopped listening to everything around me. I didn't want to hear a damn word of that sermon. I didn't want to because I was furious. When I discovered Capulleto's deceit, I wanted to scream, but I am to blame. One of the things I learned early on in this world is: know your enemy. I failed to do so and made a rookie mistake.

"So, now that you wish to enter into holy matrimony, join your hands, and express your consent before God and His Church."

Now came the worst part, having to touch him again. Don Capulleto extended his right hand with a stern gesture, and I placed mine in his, feeling a shock that almost split my palm.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, pulling away abruptly.

He offered me a cynical smile. His eyes sparkled and I didn't understand why it felt like lightning had struck me, until I saw something fall to the ground, quite discreetly.

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