Arranged Mafia Marriage

Axel

I tuck my button-down shirt into the waistband of my dark jeans. Hey, at least they are dark in color-my one concession to getting married in church. Church? I am getting married in church, in front of a minister and everything. Jesus H. Christ. Nope, the irony is not lost on me. I am swearing, using the name of the Lord, while I am bemoaning the fact that I am going to take my marriage vows in front of Him. What a bloody farce. I reach for my jacket and shrug it on. My fingers itch and I grab up my lighter and flick the flame on and off. On and off. I stare at the flame, the hottest part of which is right above the tip of the flame. The yellow heart of it is where it’s the least hot. Strange, right?

You’d expect the innermost part of the flame to be the most lethal, yet it’s the coldest. It’s what I have in common with fire. My heart will not burn for her. Whatever happens to me, affects me on the surface but never penetrates the inner core of me. And that’s good. It’s the only way I can stick to the plan. The only way I can see this through to the end without my emotions messing everything up.

I straighten my cuffs when the door opens. Nonna steps inside the room. She’s wearing a blue dress that flows to her ankles. The pearl-accented stilettos she’s wearing add height to her already upright posture. I stiffen and watch as she walks over to stand next to me. “Axel,” she murmurs, “I hope I am not interrupting?”

“And if I told you you were?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.” Her lips kick up.

“That’s what I thought.” I chuckle. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

She turns to face me, “This won’t take long.”

I lower my chin and survey her from my greater height. Her silver hair is coiffed perfectly, her make-up is flawless, and the lines on her face only add gravitas to her presence. She regards me with her faded blue eyes, no doubt, taking stock of me as I do the same to her.

“You’re so handsome,” she reaches up and pats my cheek, “nipotino mio.”

“Which means-?”

“An affectionate term for grandson.”

“Right,” I shuffle my feet.

“I take it, terms of endearment make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” I shake my shoulder, “it’s just not what I am used to.”

“You are part of the famiglia now, and we can be quite expressive.”

“You don’t say.” I wince.

“You sound so English,” she chuckles. “And yet, when I look at you, all I can see-”

“Don’t say Xander,” I snap.

“I was going to say, my husband.”

“Oh?”

“He was very like you. Not at ease with overt emotions. He also hated formal wear. In fact, for our wedding, he wore a button-down and a pair of jeans like yours. Unlike you, he also refused to wear a jacket. Of course, it was in the summer so he could get away with it.”

I stare at her steadily, “Why are you here, Nonna?”

She reaches up and brushes imaginary dust off my shoulder. “I thought I saw a little of him in all my grandsons, but when I saw you, I knew it was you who is closest in nature to him.”

“Is that right?” I murmur.

She nods, “Your force of will, your focus, how you recovered from being hit and focused on getting back on your feet, how you never let being hurt get in the way of everything you want to achieve.”

“And what is it that I want to achieve?”

“Trust, of course.” She straightens the lapel of my jacket. “In only a few weeks, you had Michael give you a seat at the negotiating table, something he hasn’t shared with any of his other brothers. And yet, none of the others openly protested against him.”

“Luca did.”

She smirks. “That doesn’t count. It was expected that Luca would; he’s the hot-headed one.”

“He’s also the one person who I haven’t been able to get close to,” I admit.

“But the others seem to be impressed by what they have seen of you. Enough to rally behind you for this wedding. They loved Xander and regarded Theresa as the sister they never had. They didn’t protest when Theresa decided to marry you. It’s interesting that the proposal came from her, don’t you think?”

“I am not sure what you are trying to imply?”

“You swept her off her feet with such speed that she didn’t have a choice but to find a way to bind you to her.”

“Are you saying that I forced her to propose to me?” I laugh.

“I am saying that she fell head over heels in love with you. You gave her what Xander never could. You were the face of the man she could never have with the heart of a man she shouldn’t have.”

“I am not sure what you are saying,” I cross my forearms over my chest, letting my biceps bulge.

“What I am trying to say is that I know you don’t love her, and if you hurt her in any way, I will make sure that you regret ever returning to the family. Not that I think you will, of course.”

“Of course,” I tilt my head, “I appreciate your watching out for Theresa, but I think you underestimate her.”

“Eh?”

“She may be tiny, but underneath that fragility is a backbone, a strength that will ensure that she always stands up for herself, that she’ll never let anyone walk all over her. Least of all, me. She is a survivor, Theresa is, and I plan to make sure that nothing ever takes that indomitable spirit away from her.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Nonna stares at me as if taken aback by my words, then a wide smile splits her face. I blink because now she looks beautiful, like the picture of what a mother should be. The mother I never had. Oh, don’t get me wrong. My own tried her best to protect me, but even as a child, I was aware that she always fell short of making the right decisions. I was too young to ever steer her back on track, so could only watch as she imploded her own life. If I’d had a Nonna in my life, it might have turned out so very differently.

“Lean down, boy,” she commands.

“What?”

“Lean down.” She scowls at me, “How else and I supposed to kiss your cheek?”