The Mafia & the Diplomat

Chapter I - The Wedding Photographer

Amarantha

I suppress a groan as I drive onto the gravel parking lot. The Estate's parking lot is filled to the brim with cars. Very expensive cars. Spotting a sleek white car with decorations, they are obviously here for a wedding. I try to tamper down my disappointment in not having the Estate almost to myself to photograph on this beautiful late September day. The gardens are legendary and I wanted to capture the jewel tones of summer with the collection of dahlia's in peace. It is a beautiful day for a wedding, though. It would have been a perfect day for my own wedding, had the past months turned out different.

I wasted far too many years for a guy, who in the end just didn't want to take the next step. I thought we had been planning our future, when all he apparently had wanted was someone who could get him into the diplomatic force. Someone who he could trample for his own ambitions. Well fuck him! Somewhere deep down, I hope his diplomatic car will take a wrong turn and end up in one of the dangerous slums where he is currently stationed. Mike tries to act tough, but I know from the past 6 years what an absolute wimp he can be.

The pain had started to dull slightly, my photography hobby being the only thing that can take my mind off things. Get me out of the house. Appreciate my surroundings. Mike always found my love for photography silly and a waste of time. Now, it is my salvation. Even among a crowded wedding.

Hopping out of my car, my DLSR camera around my neck, I stride towards the large Manor House. Hopefully there will still be a few spots in the garden where I can photograph in peace without disturbing anyone.

Suddenly there are loud footsteps and a figure appears from one of the garden paths and on to the gravel walkway. A man, dressed in an elegant dark suit. Obviously a wedding guest. An angry wedding guest. The man was on the phone, talking in a low frustrated voice. He is too far away to hear but his movements remind me of an angry lion, prowling up and down. He has a tall strong frame with broad shoulders, highlighted to perfection in his dark jacket. His dark hair is deliciously tousled and becomes even more so when he runs a hand through it. His hand catches my attention next. Large with long fingers, several silver rings adorning them. His olive skin still retains a summers tan.

My gaze drifts to his face as I slowly walk closer. Sharply defined features, high cheekbones and a strong nose balance his face, to create a masculine beauty. Dark stubble lines his jaw. And it is then that he looks up and catches my eye. I gasp at his startling blue eyes framed by dark lashes. I swallow hard. He's probably the most attractive men I've ever seen in real life. Most attractive men never leave the photographs I see them on, and now my fingers itch to capture his image as well.

His own eyes drop to my camera and he stalks towards me, his long legs eating up the gravel.

"Are you the photographer?" He asks rather roughly. I blink and look down at my camera too.

"What?"

"Did that asshole Jean-Pierre send you?"

"Umm no? I am just here for myself."

"Christ, I thought that maybe there hadn't been a mistake after all." He says looking between his phone and myself. There's a desperation in his eyes.

"What's going on?" I ask and he sighs, pinching the bridge on his nose with those elegant fingers.

"My cousin is getting married but the photographer is a no show. Some...booking... mistake. I've been trying to make a deal for the past hour. The bastard has already robbed us blind."

I glance back at the cars behind us. If they are any indication of the grandeur of the wedding, I have no doubt they hired an exclusive photographer for the day.