Keeping his bride

Luca

I PACE THE floor in the small anteroom off to the side of the chapel. Verona and I will be married in less than an hour. I’m not nervous, not in the least. I am anxious, however. I don’t know how we’re going to make things work, the two of us. We’re bound by contract to get married and stay married, but we’re complete fucking opposites. I mean, at least I think we’re exact opposites anyway. I don’t even know her well enough to know what her likes and dislikes are.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

What I do know is that she was sheltered most of her life, kept away from the family business and affairs for a long time. She hasn’t had to pick up the pieces of shattered empires or operate day-to-day businesses to keep things afloat. She never had to get blood on her hands or deal with the consequences. She doesn’t belong in my world, and I certainly don’t belong in hers.

And yet…here we are.

I never saw myself ever getting married, so it’s not like this whole thing has dashed my hopes and dreams like it probably has for her. All girls dream of the perfect wedding, the handsome groom, the happily ever after.

I never had such illusions when I was growing up.

After my mother’s death, my father became a bitter, hateful man. He took the brunt of his anger out on me. And if that’s what happens when you lose someone you love that much, then I don’t want to feel that. Ever.

Marriage was never on the table. I fucked my way through most of the city, never so much as calling the girl again or remembering her name.

And now I’m about to be tied down. Well, technically. There’s not a cheating clause in the contract. Trust me, I made sure.

No, Verona will be my wife in name only. In reality, she is still the daughter of my enemy, my family’s biggest rival. Her family has been a thorn in my side for years, and this contract is complete and utter bullshit.

I don’t know what my grandfather was thinking. Marriage doesn’t solve anything. This union won’t bring peace. If anything, it will make me hate the Morettis even more than I already do.

Sure, our families have put our differences aside for this wedding, but it doesn’t change a thing. Verona is still my enemy. And I don’t plan on making her life easy. No, quite the opposite. I plan on making her life miserable. I’m going to make her regret ever signing that contract. If she thinks she’s going to be treated like a princess in my home, she can fucking forget it.

The door to the small room creaks open, and my father enters. He’s dressed to the nines, just like I am. And when he says, “They’re ready for you, son,” I swallow hard past the lump forming in my throat.

“There has to be a way out of this,” I tell him for the twentieth time today. I keep protesting, but I know my efforts are futile. The contract has been signed. It’s done.

“Your grandfather wanted this. We have to respect his wishes,” my father says solemnly.

“This is a mistake. I don’t even know the girl,” I blurt out like a petulant child trying to get out of trouble.

“You knew her once. When you were young.”

I shake my head at his words. There was a time when I can remember playing in the same park as Verona. I would even venture to say we were friends back then. But that was before everything happened and my mother was murdered. I was innocent then. Things were different, so fucking different.

“We were kids,” I tell my father.

“You loved her then,” he remarks, causing my gaze to snap up to meet his.

“What?” I exclaim.

“I remember you running home one day, telling me that you were in love with the girl from the park. Let’s just say my reaction when you told us the girl’s last name was not a good one.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe it’s my fault you grew hateful of her. When I told you she was the daughter of our rival, the next day you went to the playground and pushed her off the swings.” He chuckles at the memory. “Our families almost went to war back then because of what you did.” Then his face suddenly grows serious. “Maybe it was just a foreboding of what was to come later on.”

I barely remember the playground incident. “The Morettis are scum,” I spit out. “And now I’m being forced to marry one of them.”

My father claps me on the back as he leads me out of the room. “It could be worse, my boy,” he tells me. “At least she’s pretty.”

I turn to him quickly. “You’ve seen her?”

He nods. “She’s easy on the eyes, so at least you have that going for you.”

I don’t know why that makes me feel a little better, but it does. But her being pretty on the outside could be a disguise for a disgusting personality, one that I won’t be able to tolerate. “Some of the most beautiful things can be rotten inside,” I explain to him.

“That is true,” he agrees. He cups my head in his hands and kisses each one of my cheeks. “Good luck, son.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as I walk up to the altar where the priest is waiting. And as I stand there before the two feuding families packed into pews and divided on each side of the crowded church, I know I’m going to need a lot of luck to get through this.