Page 11 of Inescapable Ties
I could tell from the look on her face and hesitation in her voice my sister was almost as nervous as I was. She scurried away as my father approached us. He extended his arm, and I reluctantly linked mine with his.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen filed into the church in time with the music. Watching each pair disappear felt like an unofficial countdown to the moment I had been dreading for weeks.
Then it was my turn.
“All smiles, now,” my father said.
So I did. As we walked by each member of the audience, I made myself look like the picture perfect bride. I didn’t show how I truly felt - a captive trapped inside of a chapel.
We slowly made our way down the aisle, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of both sadness and dread. As we approached the altar, my eyes were drawn to Emilio standing there, looking handsome and dashing in his perfectly tailored tuxedo. He exuded an air of confidence and sophistication, and with his chiseled features and strong jawline, he could easily grace the pages of a bridal magazine. As my father placed my hands in Emilio’s, an electric shock of fear and nervousness of what came next coursed through my body.
I held Emilio’s hands as the priest droned on. Something about a sacred union about two people loving each other and who were committed to spending the rest of their lives together. The remnants of my lunch stirred in my stomach and threatened to make their way back up. I didn’t think I could keep up the facade if I had to do this for much longer.
“Luciana, do you take Emilio to be your lawfully wedded husband...” I knew he was saying more, but my ears were ringing and I was finding it hard to focus.
“I do,” I said, summoning a smile that could rival a thespian’s.
After Emilio said, “I do,” we placed our rings on the other’s fingers.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The ringing in my ears became so loud it drowned out all other noise, creating a strangely quiet atmosphere.
Emilio’s arm enveloped my waist and his free hand rested gently on the side of my face. He pulled me into his body and pressed his lips against mine.
They were soft. I thought they would be rough, like his personality. But the kiss was gentle and his lips fit perfectly into mine.
And as quickly as it had started, the kiss was over. Emilio leaned in close, his lips brushing against my left ear, away from the prying eyes of our audience.
“Thanks for not biting them off, Jaws.”
The ceremony was the easy part. Making small talk with guests at the reception, putting on a facade of being blissfully married and inventing stories about our relationship on the spot proved difficult.
The Mafia families there “got it,” and didn’t ask prying questions. But the congressmen, CEO’s, and other prominent figures were under the assumption this marriage was two people in love that were declaring it to the world.
Exhaustion had set in by the time we arrived at our hotel room. I had almost felt relieved until I realized what I had to do.That.
I tried to watch videos to prepare myself, but they didn’t seem very realistic. Too many videos of plumbers and pizza deliverymen littered the websites for me to find anything helpful.
Emilio’s eyes narrowed, their predatory glint fixed on me. His gaze bore into my skin, making me feel exposed and vulnerable, as if I was nothing but a helpless prey in his sights. I could almost feel the heat radiating from his intense stare, sending shivers down my spine. It was as if he was studying every inch of me, calculating his next move. I couldn’t help but feel trapped under his gaze, unable to escape his powerful presence. My heart raced as I braced myself for whatever may come next.
“Come here,” he said.
I couldn’t even respond with a sassy comment because my anxiety was so high.
“Turn around.”
I turned my back towards him. Painstakingly slowly, Emilio undid the buttons on my dress, one by one.
I could feel the cool air hitting my lower back, and my stomach twisted in knots. He had almost unbuttoned all of them.
The pop of the last button seemed louder than the others. I shuddered as he caressed my exposed back with his hands. Then he took hold of the sleeves of my dress and slowly guided it off my body until it pooled on the floor around my ankles.
There was no way I could face him, knowing what he was looking at. What I was wearing could hardly be considered underwear. It barely covered my ass and was made of sheer lace. It was mortifying that my mother had given it to me as a gift, commenting on how it would please my husband on our wedding night.
He didn’t spin me around or ask me to face him, which was good, because I didn’t think it was possible for my body to move an inch.
The soft rustle of fabric and clunk of buttons hitting the wooden floor filled the room as he undressed. After a pause, he put his hand on my waist and made me face him.
