A substitute to my Mafia boss

Wedding Bells

Up until a few minutes ago, I would have referred to my boss or-dare I say, my soon-to-be husband, as a mad man. A vermin. An opportunist. A crook. Think of any bad name and I would have attached it to the persona, which is Ander smith.

But some gossip from two workers at the ceremony changed my mind.

Just as Ander said, we arrived at the wedding ceremony in a short period of time. What surprised me was that there was an actual wedding ceremony set up.

Yes, there was a congregation of strangers and to put the icing on the cake, Ander 's family was also there.

Upon our arrival at the church, Ander had some women rush me to a small room where he suggested that I ‘touch up’ my face.

That was where I heard it all.

As one woman hurriedly tried to style my hair and another applied makeup to my face, I eavesdropped in on a conversation I had no business with.

“Can you believe that his bride actually ran away from her own wedding?” Was the first thing I heard that piqued my interest.

Suddenly, what the two women were doing to me didn't matter.

The only thing that mattered was the other two women in the corner and what came out of their mouths.

It appalled me to see that they would talk so blatantly about an issue like this while I was in the room with them and could hear every single word they said clearly.

“I wouldn't blame her. I heard that Mr. smith is a jerk and that his family is dangerous. Do you know that his dad married three wives and all three of them died not less than a year into the marriage? The same thing happened to his younger brother? Now, tell me, why would you want to get married into a family like that?” One woman said.

“You're right. Only a crazy woman would put herself in a situation like that,” the other woman replied.

Their gossip suddenly transformed from informative to insulting. It looked like wherever I went I would be labeled as a crazy woman.

“Can you shut up?! I'm the crazy woman marrying him and I would prefer it if you didn't discuss me or my soon-to-be-husband in my presence!”

Not only was I crazy, in necessary situations, I was short-tempered as well, and I wouldn't have just anyone insult me to my face.

The two women working on my hair and face momentarily stopped and when the gossips left they continued.

Shortly after that ordeal, the two women finished and it was time for me to face my fate.

I was escorted to the entrance of the church and when the doors flew open and the soft melodic tune of the piano began to play, I was left alone. Left alone to face my fate.

A million and one dozen eyes were on me and I felt as though I could trip on my wedding gown at any moment and someone in the congregation would see my face and scream impostor, but I kept moving. With grace and elegance, I walked until I met my boss at the altar.

What felt like a joke a few moments again had suddenly turned into reality. I was marrying my boss. Whether I liked it or not, after a few vows and a few I do’s, I would be Mrs. smith.

When it was time for objections and no one said anything, it felt like I had missed my final chance at escape. I was doing this whether I liked it or not.

“You may now kiss the bride,” I heard a distant voice say.

Ander, ever abiding, lifted my veil and slowly lowered his head. It was time. It was time for me to perform my role as the ever doting wife. Stepping on my very tip-toes, I leaned in and Jacob’s lips met mine.

The world seemed to blur as Ander 's lips touched mine. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, one that held every emotion we both felt at that moment. Uncertainty. Frustration. Anger. Regret. Fear. And a mild hint of passion.

The murmurs of the congregation faded into the background, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of us.

As we pulled apart, I caught a glimpse of something in Ander 's eyes. Was it vulnerability? Uncertainty? Whatever it was, it mirrored my own feelings. We were both stepping into the unknown, bound by a contract neither of us fully understood.

The priest's voice brought me back to reality. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. smith."

The applause that followed was polite but lacked genuine enthusiasm. I felt a pang of unease. What had I gotten myself into?

As we walked down the aisle together, Ander 's hand firmly in mine, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was relief that the ceremony was over, apprehension about what lay ahead, and a strange sense of connection to the man beside me.

Outside the church, a stretch limousine awaited us. As we climbed in, Ander turned to me, his eyes searching mine. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

I nodded no. “Why didn't you just tell me that your real bride ran away?”

Ander 's jaw visibly tightened. Gone was the calm man. A monster had taken his place. He shut the door of the limousine and we zoomed off.

My now husband took a pack of cigarettes out of his pants, lit one and began to smoke away like I hadn't even uttered a word.

Every voice in my head that told me that this was a bad decision suddenly doubled. Who had I even married? And who in the world carried a pack of cigarettes on their wedding day?

“You don't get to ignore me now! I deserve answers!”

Ander took the cigarette out of his mouth and shot me a death stare. “Shut the up will you! I didn't marry you so you could just nag in my ear whenever you felt like it!” He yelled, his voice carrying the same amount of anger I felt.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. You married me because you could blackmail me with a bunch of s*x tapes,” I commented sarcastically.

The bastard smirked. “I had no tapes. There are no videos. I just lied on the spot and you took the bait. You even falling for that shows the type of woman you are.”

“You pervert!”