Married to the Mafia Boss

Vittoria

The days leading up to the wedding are the most nerve-wracking of my life. Under other circumstances, I’d consider myself lucky to be marrying someone as handsome and powerful as Ivan. As it is, all I do is go for gown fittings and sit through strategic planning meetings with my cousins and brother. I visit my father often, but I can do nothing for him except get my revenge.

Kira comes into my room on the day of the wedding to help me get dressed. Her belly bulges out in front of her, and she gives me a warm smile. “What you’re doing is incredibly brave, Tori.”

My siblings and I have never had an easy relationship, but I appreciate the sentiment.

“Today, I marry the man who essentially just made us orphans,” I comment, looking in the full-length mirror.

“The makeup artist and hair stylists are here to get you ready,” Kira says softly. “It would be best not to talk about these things in front of them.”

I nod. “I know, Kira. I’m not a fool.”

“Let’s get you ready then,” she waddles to the door and opens it. “You can come in.”

Two women enter and immediately start fussing over me. They lead me over to a chair and begin unpacking tons of things. At least I was able to pick my own makeup artist and hairstylist. They speak in Italian, fast, and I listen to them gossip away about how lucky the groom is to have such a beautiful bride. I don’t talk much, withdrawing inside of myself. I need to steel myself for what I’m about to do. I always wanted to help the family, but some things worried me. I don’t think my family realizes I’m a virgin. It’s less expected these days, and I didn’t want to bring it up because I knew they’d then freak out, but what if Ivan is some sort of weirdo in bed? What if he wants me to do weird things? I wouldn’t even know where to start. Oh, God.

Kira seems to notice something is up and strokes my hand softly. “It’s all going to be okay. If you need help, just call. It’s not like you won’t be able to see us once you’re married.”

I nod slightly then the makeup artist turns my head sharply with the tip of her finger, so I’m looking at her. “Hold still.”

I sit still but keep my eyes downcast. It takes almost three hours to get the makeup and hair done. I’m wearing dark eyeliner, which makes my blue-gray Sorvino eyes really pop. My hair is gathered at the top of my head in a bun, and curls spill out of it and cascade down to my shoulders. I really should cut my hair shorter. I only ever keep it tied up anyway.

Kira helps me into my wedding gown. The bodice is figure-hugging, then the skirt balloons out like a proper princess dress. We get my heels on, clip my tiara into my hair, and add the veil.

Many people will wear a veil and wear white whether they are virgins or not. In my case, it’s because I am. No one needs to know that, though.

There’s a knock on the door, and it opens. Alessandro smiles at me. “You look absolutely gorgeous, Tori.”

“Thank you, Alessandro,” I say, smiling sadly at him. “I’m going to make you proud.”

“I know you will,” he kisses my cheek, but I can see the sadness in his eyes.

“Cheer up. We need to act like we’re happy about this,” I say, taking his arm. “Thanks for walking me down the aisle.”

“It’s my honor,” he says as he escorts me out. “I hired a special limo just for the occasion.”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

I smile as we walk out together, a genuine smile because I know I am finally helping my family, even at this cost. The drive to the church is quiet, and my nerves are quickly setting in.

“Is everything set up at Kira’s villa for the reception?” I ask, fiddling with my bouquet.

“Yes, everything is perfect. We’ll show them how to throw a party,” Alessandro says as the limo stops outside the church. We get out, me with some difficulty, and then Alessandro takes my arm. Kira waddles up with Miguel on her arm and wishes me luck before she enters the church.

I wait nervously, and when the music starts, I walk slowly with Alessandro up the stairs and through the doors. Everyone is standing and watching as I walk. There are Russian family members to my right and my family to the left-a clear division.

I see Ivan standing at the front of the church, watching me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, I’m not a mind reader, but I catch my breath. He looks exceptionally handsome in his three-piece suit. He has two groomsmen standing to his right, and there are two bridesmaids I don’t recognize to the right. One looks like him, perhaps a sister.

We reach the front, and Alessandro reluctantly holds my hand out for Ivan to take. Ivan nods and leads me to stand in front of the priest. It all happens so suddenly. We use generic vows, and I hardly listen to the priest lecture about marriage being an everlasting commitment. Suddenly Ivan is escorting me out of the church, and people are showering us with rice as we make our way to our limo.

We’re both silent as we drive toward Kira’s villa, it’s not far away, but I have nothing to say to him. As we get out, he turns to me. “At least pretend to smile for the photos. You’ll get used to the situation soon enough.”

A smile that probably looks like a grimace is all I can manage. We do wedding photos first, and I try to smile naturally even though Ivan is quite serious. Then we’re announced to the families and escorted into the garden, where again, the Russian and Italian families are sitting separately. Alessandro is seated at the head table with Katya, and Ivan and I sit so that Ivan and Alessandro are placed together, with me to Ivan’s left and Katya to Alessandro’s right.

The families talk, drink, and eat amongst themselves. There isn’t a dance floor, and I almost feel as though that was done on purpose to avoid punches flying between drunk family members. What I do notice is that neither Ivan nor Alessandro drink alcohol. This is telling to me because it means they both don’t want to let their guard down around each other.

While we are busy with dessert, Ivan asks me, “Do you like the wedding?”

“Not sure like is the adequate word here, but you’ve been very generous,” I say politely, wiping my mouth on a napkin.

“Unfortunately, my daughter couldn’t make it. She’s only flying in later today so you will meet her at home.” He completely ignores my jab.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” I comment, no one had mentioned me being a stepmother, and he catches me off guard.

“She’s about your age, so maybe the two of you could become friends,” he comments, sipping on his water. “You’ll certainly be spending time together both at home and out of it. I’m sure once you take the time to get to know each other, you’ll get along well.”

“So she’s about twenty-three?” I ask curiously.

“Yes, I had her when I was twenty. The best thing that has happened in my life.” He doesn’t seem to want to speak further. Maybe he feels he is revealing a weakness, which he certainly has. I couldn’t stomach the idea of killing someone, though, and a part of me hoped Alessandro doesn’t think of killing the young girl either. That’s not what I signed up for.

Once all the food dishes are out of the way, Ivan stands up and offers me his hand. “One dance, as husband and wife, before we take our leave and go home.”

I know all my stuff was already packed and shipped to him this week, so nothing is left for me here. I take his hand and stand, holding my gown in my other hand. He whisks me onto the dance floor, and a slow ballad begins to play. I don’t understand it, it’s in Russian, but it almost sounds sad. He sweeps me around in a waltz, and to avoid getting dizzy, I keep my eyes trained on his. He looks down at me, and I see something inside his eyes, a softness mixed with desire. I swallow hard as the song ends, let go of him, and give a slight bow.

He bows back and smiles, then says something to his family in Russian before turning to Alessandro, “We will take our leave now. Thank you for inviting us to your family’s home. Once Vittoria is settled, your family is welcome to visit her at my apartment. With prior arrangement, of course.”

Alessandro stands and shakes Ivan’s hand. “We look forward to being on better terms with the Volkov family. Long may our families be united under a common cause.”

“We’ll be in touch about dividing the territories. Come, Vittoria,” he holds out his hand but first, I go to Alessandro and kiss his cheeks. “Goodbye.”

Alessandro squeezes my shoulder and lets me go. I take Ivan’s hand, and we file out with the rest of the Russian guests to our car.