Page 6 of Inescapable Ties
Ugh. If it was possible to disown your cousin, I was going to figure out how to do it. Screw Gianni. And screw my father for setting up the arranged marriage.
But most of all, screw Emilio, for existing.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I said.
The wedding coordinator looked at me expectantly. She had just asked what type of flowers I would like to decorate the inside of the church.
She, Emilio and I were crammed into a room, trying to get our wedding planned in the three-week deadline. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the aesthetics or appearances of this situation; after all, the marriage was nothing more than a transaction to benefit both parties involved.
The coordinator nervously looked over at Emilio. I imagined she didn’t see too many unenthusiastic bride-to-be’s.
Emilio looked at me. “White roses?”
I liked white roses well enough.
“Sure,” I responded.
“And what would you like to do for music? A live band or a DJ?”
I shrugged again.
“Live music, a quartet. Only classical covers,” Emilio said. It appeared as though he finally gave up on asking for my feedback.
“Well, that’s it for now! I’ll leave you two be.”
The coordinator hastily rose from her seat and exited the room. I couldn’t blame her; the awkward tension between Emilio and myself must have been uncomfortable to witness.
“Try not to be so excited,” he mused.
“Ha!” I didn’t bother suppressing my laugh. “And you are?”
“Absolutely not. But this is an important business transaction, so don’t screw it up.”
From the very beginning, I knew that this marriage was purely a business transaction. Yet, hearing him speak it aloud for the first time caused my stomach to twist into uncomfortable knots. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. It was as if the words were a slap in the face, shattering any lingering illusions I may have had about love or romance in this arrangement. My heart clenched as I tried to push away the sinking feeling in my gut.
“I won’t be the one who screws it up,” I said, glaring at him.
With a gentle yet firm grip, his warm hand cradled my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek until it rested on the small indentation of my dimple. A mixture of nausea and butterflies danced in my stomach.
“Maybe. But this face better be all smiles on our wedding day.” He ripped his hand away. “There will be a lot of important people there.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He waved his hand dismissively, a silent signal telling me the subject was being dropped.
I clicked my tongue. If Emilio “The Butcher” Renzetti didn’t slice me into pieces, it was becoming increasingly clear he might annoy me to death.
“Anyway, I’m going to go home now,” I said, standing up.
He grabbed my arm. “Not yet.”
“We’re done here. There’s no reason for me to stay.”
“I’m taking you home.”
I jerked my arm away from his grasp, the sudden force making him stumble back a step. Surprised by my boldness, I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t need you to take me home, Emilio. I’m perfectly capable of getting there myself.”
“Your dad may have let you drop your security detail, but that isn’t going to fly with me. You’re marrying into one of the most powerful families in the city. You need protection.”
