Page 2 of Prince of Malice

Finally, she turns around to look at me, her eyes softer now, more welcoming. She walks up to me and takes my hands in hers.

“That’s all I want. Nothing more.” Shesmiles again. “Then you’ll walk me down the aisle.”

I thought she wantedmeto walk her down the aisle, yet she is definitely leading me. Holding onto my arm, keeping the rest of her body still and cold while marching toward her future husband. This is all a lie and a plot, so she needs to put on a show for the families, but when they all know that this whole day is just to keep them from each other’s throats, she doesn't need to be much of an actress.

No one wants to be here. I can see it from how they look. Some want this day to be over, to show their faces and fake approval. Others are brave enough to stare us down with daggers in their eyes, disgusted that Mom would go through with this and that Salvatore even suggested it in the first place. Though divided by the aisle and the countless years of aggression, the Rossis and Valentis are together today and I’m sure we all agree that this entire thing is complete bullshit.

The look on Salvatore Valenti’s face is just another joke at this point. Mom is willing to put on a smile, blush for the crowd, and parade around in her wedding dress. Her new husband, however, decides to keep an apathetic face, stare at the back of the room, and wear the same dusty, old suit that he throws on his back day after day.

A man who’s done so little today, yet everyone here would either describe him as a calculated genius who built an empire from nothing or a ruthless man who’s made a mockery of the Rossi family with his latest scheme.

Personally, I think he’s nothing more than an old bastard who’s caught my mother up in a wedding to keep everyone from killing each other for a few more years. Worst of all, he wants me to call him Dad.

Pass. I don’t want him as a dad, even if it’s my last option on earth, especially with the smug stick figure of a son he’s raised. Luca Valenti is standing next to his father in a suit that does a great job of showing how scrawny he is underneath it. I don’t understand why he’s smirking; I could throw him around and rip that smile andsuit off of him before he could even cry for help.

Actually, that sounds like fun. Maybe I should give it a try after the reception.

“Thank you, son,” Salvatore says to me through his over-whitened teeth.

Son… I force a grin back at him and let Mom go; she has to stand by herself at the altar. Salvatore gets his son as his best man, but Mom is left alone. How fair. That’s how the Valentis play, I suppose.

“Go take your seat,” Mom says, now alone in front of a man who has promised this is all for the best.

I can’t wait for this day to be over.

My mother, Sofia Rossi, is the only stand-out thing in this whole room. I understand she’s the bride and that’s supposed to be the case, but I would have assumed they’d have decorated the reception a bit better. Maybe some more flowers, less harsh lighting, or honestly anything at this point, but no. Here we are, standing in the back room of one of Salvatore’s “restaurants,” a handful of tablesscattered across the room with no real thought and Mom’s bouquet from the ceremony now on a table instead of in her hands. The overhead lights feel more like a grocery store than a wedding reception.

I feel so bad for her. She always tells me about what her wedding was like with Dad. It was only a small thing with close family and friends who weren’t too judgmental to mention her bump coming in. Yet she talked about it like it was the best thing in the entire world. Her dress was secondhand, but she acted like it was hand-stitched by the greatest of seamstresses. The whole ceremony and reception took place in a family friend’s garden out in Vermont, but she described it like a winery back home in Italy.

I don't think any amount of denial and rose-tinted glasses could turn today into anything like that, even if she tried.

I should talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.

The room’s small, too, and there’s barely enough space for anyone to stand, let alone move around. Each step I take feels like I’m just getting pushed back by a tide of guests and there’s no clear path through to her.

“Oh, it was just so sweet how you walkedyour mom down the aisle,” the voice of an unknown woman exclaims as a soft hand held onto my arm.

“And in that suit, you look so very handsome,” another man says.

I just want to get away from them. “Thank you. That’s very kind. I must say, the pair of you don’t look too bad yourselves.”

I’m not lying either; the woman’s gorgeous. Her skin is radiant, her curves in all the right places, and her dress cut just so that you can see everything you need to but still have enough left to learn later. I know her family isn’t here—she wouldn’t wear that if they were—so that’s promising.

The man, however, is already blushing from my compliment and is leaning at such a sharp angle that any moment now he’ll knock into me. Claims he’s had a few too many to drink and asks me if I can help him sober up. I’ve seen it too many times before.

He moves closer to me, stumbling as he does.

“Careful. Are you alright?” I ask as I catch him and bring him to a stop before he falls.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve just had a bit too muchto drink,” he predictably responds with a laugh.

This is why I go to weddings.

“Would you be okay to…” his voice trails off, and my attention is brought elsewhere.

Laughing and smiling with some people is Luca Valenti- eldest son of Salvatore Valenti and I have to guess now the wedding is done, my new stepbrother. He stands off to the edge of the group and chimes in now and then to remind them he’s still there before replacing his stoney face. Very handsome stoney face. Just looking at him is annoying.

“This always happens to me. I’m just such a wreck,” the drunk man says, his voice catching my attention again. “Would that be okay?” he asks, clarifying a question I didn’t hear.

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