Ruthless Saint

IV

MIKA COSTELLO

        Italians and a hint of Russian soliders flooded the front yard and backyard of my papá's home in the hot Saturday heat. Glamorous outdoor lightning setting the ambiance, whimsical canopy of draped fabrics and lush, interwoven greens.

        The backyard was filled with long banquet tables and a trail of floral arrangement lining the aisle. Assortments of hors d'oeuvres, shrimp cocktails and sliders. It was meant to be a small, intimate wedding, something Mischa and I agreed on.

        I watched from the patio, a red lollipop in mouth and observed the commodity in the late afternoon. My papá rang out orders in Italian, gesturing his gun towards the Russians in a non-friendly way.

        Security was tight—a dozen guards lined the entrance of the front yard. I could smell the tension in the air, thick and dark. The Russians and the Italians never got along and despite Elena's marriage, they trusted each other as far as they could toss one another.

        This marriage ensured cooperation on both ends and an alliance that could never be broken.

        I'd woken up with a strange feeling. I could hardly call it excitement but perhaps it was anticipation. I grew up in a word where young girls feared arranged marriages and I'd been one of them. 

        Now I recognized I was marrying for safety. And for some reason, the idea was much more glamorous than a marriage formed out of love.

        My reflection in the mirror stared back at me in this haunting way as my mamma adjusted my wedding gown. It was a beautiful crepe gown—simple and the sculpted my body perfectly. Draped neckline and clean lines reminiscent of Old Hollywood Glamour.

        It was ridiculously expensive—something I knew my papá wouldn't be able to cover—but Mischa sent an Amex to cover all the expenses, and I didn't mind going to town with all of my heart desires.

        I could only watch as my mamma and Zia Sofia pinned my hair in this sleek single French braid cascading elegantly down my back intricate, waterfall style. Baby's breath flower buds pinned along the sides. Floral tulle veil with floral embroidery cascading down the edge of the veil.

        "Oh mio dio." My mamma began to tear up, her voice shaky and blotched face.

        "Mamma." I sighed and shook my head. She was never this emotional when it came to me, so this was a new development.

        I handed her a Kleenex from the vanity.

        She blew her nose, her face beet red. "You're beautiful."

        My heart warmed, lit fire blooming in my chest. "Thank you." I murmured softly.

        Zia Sofia touched my shoulder lightly to draw my attention. "Thank you." She mouthed slightly. I knew what she was thanking me for. Thank you for not disgracing our family. Thank you for bearing the weight of your cousin.

        I glanced down at the ring on my finger, my heart twisting with a cocktail of different emotions. I could feel the weight of the diamond ring on my hand, the price of being a woman.

        My mamma and Zia were still fixing my veil when a knock interrupted us. The doorway opened revealing the man I'd almost married. The man I thought I would be getting married to once upon a time.

        It was a cruel fate—almost twisted to watch as he took me in. Eyes fixated on my wedding dress, tearing me apart with his dark gaze like I belonged to him.