Page 32 of Promised at Birth

I choose a beige, sleeveless, form fitting, designer dress for Gwen. A lacy nude bra with matching thong. Nude high heel pumps. I lay the outfit on the bed.

Gwen walks in carrying a cup of coffee. She sees her new clothes on the bed.

“Eww.” She remarks as she looks at the dress.

“Put it on. Oh, and take that scrunchie out of your hair – no more ponytails!”

She grabs the clothes and goes into her bathroom. She slams the door. What a surprise. My wife needs to get used to me picking out her clothes. She needs to dress like a woman. A wife.

Gwen emerges from the bathroom with the dress and heels on. Her hair is down and falls to her shoulders in silky waves. The dress really shows off her womanly curves. She is frowning.

“Much better.” I tell her.

“This dress is too tight! It makes me look fat. My boobs and butt look ginormous!”

“That dress makes you look like a woman and not a child.”

Gwen crosses her arms over her chest.

“I need breast reduction surgery.”

“No.”

She rolls her eyes and goes into the closet. She walks out of the closet carrying a backpack. Oh no!

“No backpacks. I saw a beige, leather, tote bag in the closet that will match your heels. Put your things in that. We are leaving in ten minutes.”

As she walks back into the closet, I hear her mumble, “controlling much!”

I text my driver to bring the SUV around. I text my bodyguards to get our luggage. I desperately need a cup of coffee. I head for the kitchen.

Maria hugs me as I enter the kitchen. She always wears a black dress with a white apron. Her uniform.

“Congratulations, Bobby. Gwen is beautiful and sweet. Your Mother would be proud! Have a wonderful honeymoon!”

I kiss Maria. Maria has been with our family for years. I love her. She is a second mother to me.

My driver texts me. We are ready to go. I can’t believe I am actually married and going on a honeymoon! Fuck.

Chapter Six

"To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting."

? Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Gwen

As we drive to O’Hare airport, I watch the city of Chicago go by as I look out the window of the SUV. Two bodyguards, Gino, and Frankie, follow in a black sedan. Since it is not rush hour, the expressway to O’Hare is almost empty.

I am quiet. I almost feel excited about our honeymoon. Bobby looks at his cellphone.

The SUV and black sedan drive onto a private runway. The cars stop in front of a small jet. Bobby holds the door of the SUV open for me after he gets out. I ignore him. I am still annoyed that he picked out my clothes. Bobby’s goon squad carry our luggage onto the plane. We board the jet.

The Vincenzio family owns a small private airline. The airline offers leer jets - private, luxury aircraft for wealthy people to charter. The small jet is luxurious – all tan leather seats and interior. A full bar. I sit down in a seat by a window. Bobby takes the seat right next to me. Bobby’s goon squad take seats at the other end of the small jet, giving us some privacy.

I sigh. I want to sit by myself. I start to stand up. Bobby possessively puts his hand on my arm.

“Bobby, I don’t want to sit next to you.”

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