Mia Figlia

Chapter 46 ✔️

PoV Riccardo

That darn tie! For the fourth time it slipped out of my hands and fell to the floor. I frowned at my trembling fingers. In this condition, I would not even be able to fire a pistol, let alone win a hand-to-hand fight. I snorted in annoyance at myself. My future wife deserved a far better man than me, and yet she had chosen me. My chest swelled with pride.

I looked in the mirror. My upper lip trembled slightly. The knot in my stomach that had been tormenting me since the early hours of the morning took on the shape and weight of a boulder. Grimacing my face, I swallowed the bile rising in my esophagus. What was wrong with me?

My thoughts returned to the engagement party. My mother, pointing her gun at Stella. The boom of the gunshot echoed in my ears. A shiver ran down my spine. I felt again the gratitude that had gripped me that my father had been the shooter, and he had killed the harpy. Would at least my wedding be peaceful? Had enough arrangements been made? Could I trust all the guests? Ideally, I would like to marry Stella without any spectators. Just her, Isabella, and me, plus the pastor. I glanced at the clock and sighed. The minute hand was advancing mercilessly, but at the same time it remained in one spot for too long. I should be getting ready for the ceremony slowly but surely.

My gaze dropped to the floor. The troublesome piece of cloth had landed on my right foot. I shook my leg and watched the tie sail through the air and come down just a few feet away. Instead of picking it up, I undid the top button of my shirt. There was no need for such a formal dressing. I hated it, Stella hated it, and Isabella would wear a dress from The Descendants movies anyway.

I grabbed the hanger with my jacket. Not the smallest speck of dust was to be seen. But if I fulfilled my daughter's wish soon, none of my clothes would be spotless anymore. A sigh escaped my lips. I did not have to ask myself what was more important. The pet for my little angel came first. Apart from that, I had always wanted a cat as a child. To be exact, a fat red tomcat that shared my love for Italian food. She wanted a cat, then she got one.

I thought back to the moment when I promised her. Not only her eyes had lit up. My almost-wife was happy like a little child as well. With a smile on my lips, I put on my jacket. A quick glance in the mirror, then I ran to the door. The door handle disappeared downwards the moment I reached for it. Instinctively, I backed out of the way.

"Riccardo! Non perdere tempo. We are eagerly waiting for you! The wedding ceremony can hardly take place without the groom." My father eyed me frowning. Was he looking for the right words to tell me what he thought about the missing tie and the open shirt? As a mafia boss, I had to dress impeccably at all times. I could clearly read from his expression how much he disliked my style of attire. Nonetheless, he spared himself any comment. I exhaled abruptly and realized that I had been holding my breath. He still had far too much influence on me, but I was no longer the weak little boy. He clenched his jaws tightly together and his restless gaze wandered from me down the hall. Did he have a guilty conscience towards me because he had no time for me during my childhood? Or was it for that reason he had been blind out of love for my mother? Stella had pointed out the change in his behavior to me and since then I paid attention to every little gesture and his facial expressions. Something was nagging at him, and it was not my impending marriage.

The wedding ceremony!

I stormed past my father down the stairs out of the house. No one was waiting outside. No men, no car, but there was no need for that. The wedding took place in the small chapel on the estate. My grandfather had it built to pray regularly. My father had often spent time there during his working years as well. For me, nonetheless, it was a place I largely ignored. I could save myself the farce. If there was a God, he would hardly be appeased if a serious criminal, of which I was one as a mafia boss, prayed a little now and then and asked for forgiveness. In particular if the criminal committed the next crime right after that. That had seemed ridiculous to me from an early age.