Page 5 of Glass Omega

He stood a head taller than my father and surveyed the room with a cool indifference until his green eyes found mine. They warmed ever so slightly as he bypassed my father to take my hand in his, the thick signet ring on his right hand cool against my skin as he gave my fingers a squeeze.

“Mio Caro, you are an absolute picture,” he told me in a lightly accented voice which I always found odd as I was pretty sure the man had never actually lived in Italy. None of my intended pack had accents. “Those boys won’t know what hit them and I should know as I practically raised them.”

I kept my grimace off of my face and offered him what I hoped was one of my mother’s fake smiles. After meeting my Pack Ricci a handful of times, I knew for a fact that our dislike for each other was mutual and my poofy wedding dress would probably have the opposite effect.

They were the heirs apparent to the Amante family and all of its businesses, but none of them bore Alessandro’s last name.

One night a few weeks ago, my mother had gotten drunk enough to gossip and had told me that the Amante family was starting to fall into shambles ever since the death of Alessandro’s only son two years ago.

Apparently, he’d once been a part of the pack I was about to marry and the head of the family had been grooming the entirebunch to lead the family. Then he’d died and Alessandro had been scrambling ever since to keep things together.

“A beautiful, useful omega for my boys. I only worry that your previous health issues will cause… trouble later on.” Alessandro’s warm expression cooled as he turned to look over at my father who had been busily sweating up a storm as he watched our exchange.

“Peregrine is blessedly healthy now, Mr. Amante,” he hurried to say, stepping in close. “A clean bill of health and she’ll be able to bear many fine sons for your boys.”

A disgusted feeling crawled down my spine at his flippant words, but I held it in and reminded myself that my medical bills wouldn’t pay themselves.

Alessandro stared at my face for another beat before a happy smile returned and he was the picture of the jolly father-in-law-to-be again. “I suppose she’ll be more useful than my own daughter, so I can’t ask for more than that.”

The man began to laugh and it took a beat before my parents joined in with him, their laughs sharper and more pained.

I hadn’t met his daughter at all during the few marriage meetings at the Amante mansion over the past few months which, now that I thought about it, was strange.

There weren’t even any pictures of her up around the rooms I’d been in—just pictures of Alessandro, his deceased wife, and the son.

Alessandro’s laugh turned gravelly as he began to cough, the sound grating against my ears as he waved off my parent’s sudden fluttering.

“I’m fine, get away from me,” he barked before turning to me with a red face. “Well,Mio Caro, I best get back downstairs before the ceremony starts.”

My parents followed him out of the room, the old door slamming loudly as the sound of their voices faded down the church’s stone hallway.

“Well he seems…” Romey began, his words trailing off as he glanced between me and the door.

“Terrifying?” I provided, turning back to the mirror to give myself one last pale-faced stare. The makeup artist had put blush on me, but with how little color was in my face it made my cheeks look unhealthily flushed like I had a fever.

“I was going to say nice, but maybe you’re right.” Romey stood and offered his hand to me. “Shall we?”

I nodded, flipping my gloved fingers into his. “I wish you could at least walk me down the aisle,” I whispered to him as we walked slowly down the old stone halls of the St. Cecilia cathedral, one of the oldest buildings in the city.

My family wasn’t Catholic by any stretch of the word, and if we would have been, then we most likely would have been protestants thanks to our English heritage, but it was clear that our father was going to use whatever he could to get into the minds and the pockets of voters. And if that meant that we were Catholic now, then so be it.

At least the building was pretty, I mused as we came down the stone steps and stepped into the beautiful marble lobby to wait for the ceremony to start.

Everyone had gone inside aside for a couple of stragglers and my father who was furiously typing something on his phone.

“And I wish I could give you away to someone other than these assholes,” Romey whispered in my ear as he stared glumly at the massive closed doors that led into the nave—the main part of the cathedral. “If they so much as look at you funny you let me know and we’ll have some words.”

If I had any problems with my pack-to-be, Romey would be the last person I called. He was liable to get shot by them if he ever tried to play that game.

“Go inside with Mother,” I urged, shooing him towards the doors. I needed a minute on my own to gather my wits.

Romey shot me one last wistful look before he obeyed, tugging open the massive door and slipping inside.

The rest of the lobby had cleared out while we were speaking, even my father had stepped out to talk on his phone.

It left the lobby blessedly quiet as I stared up at the beautiful stained glass windows above the front door that depicted Saint Cecelia gazing wistfully into the sky, a portative organ tucked under one arm.

The irony that I would be getting married in a cathedral named after a martyr was not lost on me.

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