Page 71 of Married with Mayhem

For the moment, my mother has drifted away and is scolding the men for eating like pigs.

“This wasn’t Monte’s fault,” I tell Luca, speaking just above a whisper. “I’ll explain when we get to Colorado but please don’t be angry with him.”

“I’m not,” Luca sighs. “How are you doing?”

“I’m sitting here in a wedding dress that’s cutting off my circulation and trying not to throw up the manicotti I just ate. I’m fabulous. But don’t say a word to Mama. She’s on some romance fantasy cloud right now and thinks I’ve found my true love.”

Luca snorts. “You and Monte. The way I remember it, you two could barely say hello without a verbal warzone breaking out.”

“Haha. Go take care of my baby niece and hide all the guns and knives from my sister.”

“Good idea. Enjoy your wedding night, Mrs. Castelli.” He starts cackling so I hang up on him.

Mama insists on accompanying me when I visit the restroom. Two of Vittorio’s men follow us.

“Go away,” I hiss at them because at this point I’m awfully cranky. Plus, the henchman on the left is the one who hit Monte so he’s not my favorite person. The men stare blankly back because I’m not nearly as scary as Vittorio. At least they don’t stand inside the bathroom while I’m peeing.

I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Monte while I was walking around outside the conference room but he’s nowhere in sight and neither is Vittorio. Another hour passes before they show up.

When Monte finally walks into the room he immediately searches me out, looking relieved to find me sitting at a table while Mama tries to cram more food into my mouth.

Of course I’m still here. Where the hell does he think I’d go? I’m not even allowed to visit the restroom without being trailed by mafia thugs.

His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, his tie is gone and a few shirt buttons are undone. He’s so absurdly sexy that for a moment an odd sense of pride surges, as if he truly is my husband.

Monte and Vittorio have grown a lot more chummy in the past few hours. They stand at the buffet table together, chatting and piling their plates with food before walking this way to take seats at our table.

“Where have you been?” I say to Monte and then cringe over the way I sound like an actual wife.

Monte brought a wine bottle with him. He fills a glass and passes it to me. “We had a few things to discuss.”

I try to detect any sign that he’s already drunk. Nope, his eyes are sharp and his movements precise. All signs point to the fact that he’s stone cold sober.

Vittorio makes savage cuts to the veal on his plate. “Sabrina, do you remember that little problem you two had in New York?”

If he’s not talking about Lenny Lombardo then I have no idea what else it could be. “Um, I think so.”

“This problem no longer exists.” My uncle takes the wine bottle and pours himself a glass. “Consider it a wedding present.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, wondering about the correct etiquette when a mob hit is presented to you as a gift. I sneak a discreet glance at Monte. He’s completely calm while rolling spaghetti around his fork. Being forced into marriage sure hasn’t affected his appetite.

My uncle stands and raises his glass. “To my lovely niece Sabrina and her new husband.Salute.”

Every man in the room raises his glass. “Salute.”

A three tier wedding cake arrives and I can’t imagine where it would have come from on such short notice. Apparently there are no limits to what Vittorio Messina can procure on demand. Weddings. Dead mobsters. Gourmet cakes. All in a day’s work.

I’m still pushing my slice of cake around on my plate when I hear Vittorio say that his whole crew will be spending the night at the motel and flying out early tomorrow. The quilting convention is over so there’s no shortage of rooms here in town now.

However, I’ll still be sharing a room with Monte because there’s no way to explain why I wouldn’t want to spend my wedding night with my new husband.

Mama isn’t returning to Sicily yet. She’ll be accompanying us to Colorado in order to visit Anni and meet little Jane. I wonder if Monte realizes that with my mother around, we’ll need topretend to be married until she leaves. He doesn’t seem to be especially worried about this topic so maybe not.

Speaking of being married, we can’t linger here in the conference room forever. Mama notes the time and inches closer to me.

“I’m sure you can’t wait to be alone with your husband,” she says with a meaningful smile. “You and Monte don’t need to stay.”

Unfortunately, Vittorio has eavesdropped and decides to add his two cents. “Excellent. I think it’s time we all said good night to the happy couple.”

---