Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(43)

I don’t know. It seems like… I really don’t know.

He looks down on me thoughtfully, his expression quickly changing to a scowl. I get the distinct feeling he is thinking almost exactly the same thing. “You're going to take a lot of work, Marie. I hope you're worth it.”

My mouth opens to say something else but someone grabs my hand, pulling it away, shaking it enthusiastically and smiling through bleary eyes. Another relative, somebody older than dirt. I can't even remember her name, but she does seem pretty pleased about the entire operation.

“Thank you, thank you,” I say for the hundredth time. The well-wishers keep coming, one after another. I shake hands until my arms are numb, and when the first waiter passes me with a tray of champagne flutes, I make sure to grab two.

It's a new life, I guess. Time to start drinking.





CHAPTER 11


ROMAN

Crowds are unpleasant. In particular, this crowd is like a nest of vipers. Not so much the grandmas and grandpas, more the people in the middle. The young guys with their eyes shifting from side to side, checking each other out. The old guys with not as many ties anymore, whose families have been whittled down to just a few remaining. Those guys can harbor a grudge.

There's too many people here to keep track of, and I don't like it one bit.

Not that Marie would notice. There she is again, giggling with her friend Gianna like a couple of high schoolers. She has absolutely no idea what's going on. No idea how much danger she's in. Put her in a pretty white dress and her brains turn to smoke.

You would think that this week had never happened. She's just standing there in the middle of the room where everyone can see her. Look at that dress, that flowing hair. That rosy blush in her cheeks. Everyone is staring at her, and she seems to love it.

Stupid.

If she was smart, she would lay low. Yes, we had to do the ceremony, but we certainly could have snuck out before dinner. Now we’re stuck here in the middle of a few hundred people of which at least a few have decent enough reasons to want to see her or her father dead. At least twice that many would like to see my head on a plate.

Stupid. Stupid.

Alek comes up to me with his arms crossed and jerks his chin to pull me away from the two babbling grandmas who are standing in front of me, just gushing some kind of grandma nonsense. I fake a language barrier and walk over to Alek near the caterers’ entrance.

“Many happy returns!” Alek says, his smile big and stupid.

“Hilarious.”

He shrugs and looks around. “Aw, come on, give up the Shrek act for just one day, would you? It's a wedding. It's our wedding. Try to look a little happy.”

I shake my head. I'm not in the mood for his jokes.

Alek takes a deep breath and sighs out his nose. He squints at my… our... Bride? Yeah, I guess that's what she is. He checks her out for a minute and then nods.

“Well, we could've done a lot worse. I think you should be thanking your lucky stars they didn’t marry you off to one of those bull-looking ladies over there.” He jerks his chin toward the big round table of cousins who all look like they must be part oxen.

“She’s small.”

He frowns and then raises his eyebrows. “Small could be good. Small can be fun.”

“Small could be a fucking liability, Alek,” I remind him. “I'm not a babysitter. And I'm not good at handling, you know…”

“Delicate things, I know,” he interrupts me. “Or maybe you underestimate her. Maybe she’s tougher than you think.”

“I doubt that,” I growl, watching her take another glass of champagne off a passing tray. That's five glasses if I'm counting right, and she hasn't even touched her dinner yet. She's going be passed out in short order. Which, come to think of it, is probably a good thing. Less talking.

“We're going to have beautiful children,” Alek chuckles.

“Did you have something you wanted to tell me?” I ask sharply. Enough of this time wasting.

“Yeah, yeah… Keep your pants on, Roman. You physical guys are all so itchy with the trigger finger, you know?”

I just glare at him. Alek and I may be twins, but he took a different path, studying finance back in Philadelphia and never getting his hands dirty. Alek manages books for at least seven lines of business and somehow manages to always still have a suspicious amount of free time. I swear that he graduated college with a calculator installed up his ass.

But frankly, he seems to be loving this and for the thousandth time today, I want to punch him right in the mouth. The way he’s looking at her… It’s like there’s not a doubt in his mind. He’s sold.

“Hey!” I bark at him, jolting him out of his girlie daydream. “Focus, okay?”