Page 67 of Married with Mayhem

What’s more, as luck (bad luck, but still luck) would have it, there’s a regional airport less than five miles from here. My uncle’s private jet, containing my mother and more than a dozen of his favorite malevolent mob enforcers, landed an hour ago.

The least they could have done is call with a heads up that they were on their way over here. That would have saved us all from a lot of distress. I feel sick every time I think about the bruises on Monte’s face after my uncle’s men roughed him up. And then I feel sicker when I realize how much worse the situation could have been.

“Maybe we should check on them,” I say, more than a little nervous that Monte has been abducted to a private conference with my uncle.

But my mother isn’t even listening. She’s humming and smiling. She plants a kiss on my cheek and smiles at our reflection in the mirror.

“La mia bambina,” she whispers and gets a little misty-eyed.

I’m used to being babied by my mother and sisters. And I’ve given them a lot of reasons to worry. I’ve broken my ankle on a yacht, crashed into the wall of the garage and suffered an appendicitis attack on the day of Anni’s wedding. I’m a magnet for mayhem.

These days my resumé has some new bullet points. Thanks to the card game, I ignited a New York mafia brawl, which forcedme to go on the run with Monte, who I’m now accidentally engaged to.

But I created this mess and I need to fix it.

“We should call the girls,” I say, struck with inspiration. “I haven’t told them the news.”

Daisy won’t be much help. She’ll probably just gush and tell me that I’ll be a beautiful bride. But Annalisa will hit the freaking roof. Anni will put a stop to the madness by sheer force of her iron will. And Luca is a lawyer. My smooth-talking charmer of a brother-in-law might have a real shot at talking some sense into Vittorio.

“Sure, we will call them,” says my mother and kisses my cheek again.

When she steps out of the bathroom, I hastily shed my bath towel in exchange for the plaid skirt and pink top I’d left beside the sink right before stepping into the shower. Life was simpler back then. I wasn’t someone’s fiancée.

Back in the room, my mother is busy making the beds for some reason. She’s humming again. I’m searching for my phone so I can discreetly fire off a 911 text to Anni when the door opens and a new chapter in the wedding saga begins.

After spending twenty minutes with my uncle, Monte has experienced a transformation. While I’ve been feverishly composing a hundred-and-one reasons why it’s an absurd idea for us to get married today, he saunters in with Vittorio, claps his hands together and announces, “Looks like a great day to have a wedding.”

Stunned, I check the area to see if there’s a gun pointed at his head again. There isn’t.

Perhaps he suffered a concussion when those jerks beat him up. However, aside from the discolored swelling on his right cheek, he doesn’t appear to be under any duress at all.

Vittorio stands beside him and checks his phone. “Everything is being taken care of.”

“We’ll need a priest,” my mother points out. She’s smiling so much she might crack her face.

“And you’ll have one,” my uncle assures her in a gentle tone that he doesn’t use with anyone else. “The marriage license is being procured. A selection of dresses and rings will arrive shortly. The ceremony will take place right here in the conference room. A local Italian restaurant has been persuaded to cater. I’m not sure what passes for decent food out here but we will work with what we have.”

I’m looking at Monte, expecting him to erupt with objections. He just stands there and listens, calm as a mannequin, while our imminent nuptials are planned.

My uncle finally remembers that I’m here. “Sabrina, do you have any requests for the wedding menu?”

“Make sure you add some manicotti,” my mother suggests. “It’s her favorite.”

Yes it is, however I’m not exactly hungry right now.

“Oh, Monte dear,” I say in a tone that I hope sounds fiancée-ish, “can we go have a talk?”

He responds with a placid stare. “Afraid not,” he says. “I shouldn’t even be in here. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony. Anyway, I need to go with Vittorio to hunt down a tux.”

For a second, I’m so baffled I’m about to run across the room and shake him until he snaps out of this trance.

Then a chilling certainty hits me.

Vittorio must have made one hell of a terrifying threat for Monte to go along with this sham. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Knowing Vittorio, he probably extended the threat to Monte’s family.

If I refuse to participate, or if I admit that the whole engagement thing was a lie, what will happen to Monte? And to Nico and Sal? My uncle is not an understanding man. To cross him would be a death wish.

Oh Monte, I’m so sorry I got you into this.

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