Page 69 of Married with Mayhem

Half an hour later, my transformation is complete. My long brown hair has been turned into a cascade of spiral curls. There’s about eight times more makeup on my face than I’ve ever worn before. Technically, this clingy bridal gown covers everything and yet I’ve never felt more exposed.

Trixie is pleased with her work. “Stunning. Wait until your future husband sees you. He’ll fall right over.”

Yes, he might fall over, but not for the reasons she thinks.

My mother gets briefly distracted when Trixie insists on adding some glamour to the mother of the bride. I grab my phone and fire off a text to Monte.

Are you okay????

Four hours have passed since he left the room with my uncle. I’ve been stuck in here getting primped the entire time and I’m deeply uneasy that I have no clue what’s going on with him.

Three dots appear on the screen to indicate he’s texting back. I hold my breath.

Never better.

More dots appear.

See you soon.

He must not be free to talk. I can picture Vittorio looking over his shoulder.

“Look at your beautiful mother,” Trixie says.

Even with a layer of makeup on, I can see that Mama is blushing. Her dark hair shows streaks of grey and she usually wears it tied up but now it curls softly past her shoulders.

I’ve always known my mother is beautiful in the way that all children think their mothers are beautiful. She’s beautiful to me because she’s my mother. But now for the first time I seea glimpse of the hopeful, lovely girl she must have been nearly three decades ago before my father broke her down.

If there’s one silver lining in today’s madness, it’s that I’ve made my mother happy. She thinks I’m in love and she believes Monte loves me.

“You really do look very pretty, Mama,” I say.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m old.”

“You’re not,” I insist and take her hands. “You’re not old at all.”

Back at the villa, there’s a gardener named Cesar who comes around once a week. He’s good looking, widowed, and always brings her flowers. I’ve seen her watching him and she blushes over his flirty manner but she never reciprocates. I think she’s afraid to. She might be surprised to hear how much I can relate.

A sudden sharp knock on the door makes my stomach flip over. Trixie answers and Vittorio stands on the other side. Behind him are two of his men.

“Everyone is waiting,” Vittorio says and jerks his head at one of his men, who steps forward with a bouquet of peach-colored flowers.

With the bouquet in one hand and a fistful of my long wedding gown in the other, I follow my uncle to the first floor conference room. Somewhere along the way, it was decided that my uncle would be the one to walk me down the aisle. Mama kisses my cheek before Vittorio’s men escort her into the room and I’m briefly left alone with my uncle.

He holds his arm out and waits until I take it. “I hope this will be a joyous day for you, Sabrina.”

I’d love to mash my flower bouquet in his smug face. He’s allergic to pollen. The big bad mafia boss is sensitive to flowers. But I can do no such thing while Monte’s life is on the line.

I need to unlock my clenched jaw before saying, “Thank you, Uncle Vittorio. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. No girl has ever had a better wedding day.”

His dark chuckle seems to indicate that he finds my phony enthusiasm amusing. What a creep.

The double doors to the conference room are opened and my uncle lightly tugs on my arm until I start to move. The room isn’t very big but it’s not as if there’s a huge audience. Aside from Mama, the only guests are the members of my uncle’s entourage.

I’m suddenly extremely aware just how much this dress shows off my body. I want to run when I notice all the eyes discreetly raking me over. These men would never openly disrespect Vittorio’s niece but they are still men and when men see boobs, they stare.

This has to be the most awkward march down the aisle that ever lived. While Vittorio keeps his arm looped through mine in case I’m tempted to make a break for it, I’m stuck juggling the bouquet and holding up a wad of satin dress fabric so I don’t trip. The room gets a glimpse of my pink sneakers but that can’t be helped. At least I had time to shave my legs this morning before my room was raided.

Vittorio deposits me at the end of the aisle beside Monte. I was so distracted by my quest to avoid tripping that I haven’t yet taken a good look at the man I’m supposed to marry.

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