Contract Wife of the Cold Mafia

Chapter 3

Wedding

* * * * * * * * *Bayá * * * * * * * * * *

"You know the rules, why did you break them?"

"For the girl. I already knew who she was; she was worth much more than her father's debt."

"I'll repeat my question. Why did you break them?"

"She was worth a lot of money, Bayá..."

"Listen to me carefully, Rashad," I confront him. "Don't you dare bring another woman like her again."

"It was just a special case, Ba."

"No special cases, Rashad. In business and rules, there are no special cases, understood? Or do you want me to take the trouble to make you understand definitively?" I threaten, and he shakes his head.

"Where do you have the girl?"

"That's none of your concern. What was owed to you has been settled."

"I was informed of that," he clarifies, looking at me.

"Get out of here," I suddenly order.

"Considering that you're my best partner and you've never caused me any trouble before, I'll do nothing more than withhold your monthly income."

"Bayá..."

"You know the rules, Rashad, or do you want me to take the trouble to remind you of them now?"

"No, Bayá..."

"GET OUT, get out of here! I don't want to see your face anymore!"

"Understood, Bayá," he responds and gets up to go to the door. When he opens it, I can see the woman's nanny.

"COME IN."

"Good morning, sir..."

"What happened now?"

"Sir, she doesn't want to eat..."

"Damn it," I think as I clench my fist.

"That girl is trying to drive me crazy," I add.

"But she won't... she won't," I whisper. "And water?"

"She hasn't tried anything, sir."

"How do you mean she hasn't tried anything?! You couldn't even manage to give her a sip of water?!"

"Sir, she hasn't wanted to cooperate with us."

"How do you mean she hasn't cooperated?!" I startled as I stood up and hit my desk with one of my fists. Patience was definitely not one of my virtues, especially when it came to dealing with a woman like her.

"Don't you have the keys, or what?!" I shout, and the woman startles.

"Yes, yes... we... we do, sir," she stammers, which only infuriates me more, "bu... bu... but..."

"But what?!"

"But she has put something; we can't open it."

"Damn it! I have to do everything in this house. I'm surrounded by incompetents!" I exclaim as I start walking towards her room on the second floor.

Upon arrival, I approach the door and turn the knob.

"KEY, GIVE ME THE DAMN KEY."

"Here it is, sir," one of my servants responds, handing it to me, and after that, I place it in the lock and proceed to open it. The key turns normally, but when I try to push the door, it doesn't budge, only opening slightly.

"Come on! I'm not in the mood for these childish games! Open up now!" I command, but no one responds. "I don't like talking to myself, answer!" I continue without a response. "I'll break the door down if you don't open it now! Believe me, you won't like that!"

"Are you threatening me again?!"

"Open the door!"

"I won't open anything for you! If you want to come in, you'll have to break it down!"

"Come on! Don't make me lose my patience!"

"If not what, Mr. Mafia?"

"Stop answering me!"

"Why? Did you feel offended, Mr. Mafia?"

"How are you so sure I'm..."

"Please! You and your friends shout 'mafia'! All ridiculous! Especially you with that ring!"

"Hey! You have to respect me!" I demand, and I hear her laugh (which annoys me), so I decide not to wait any longer and kick the door down.

"Damn it! You scared me," she complains.

"FOOD! BRING THE FOOD!"

"It's... here... sir..."

"Give me that; stop hesitating and leave," I order the woman, and she disappears instantly.

"You seem to enjoy yelling at women, don't you?" she asks, but I don't respond, just walk over to her and place the tray beside her bed.

"EAT THAT..."

"I won't eat anything..."

"I'm not giving you options, girl," I rebuke. "I'm giving you an order!"

"If I don't obey you, what then?" she challenges.

"If you don't obey me, I'll make sure your father pays his debt the way I like best," I decide to threaten her, and she seems frightened.

"YOU'RE A..."

"Hey, girl! Don't raise your voice to me," I sternly point, raising a hand and my index finger to her mouth. "DON'T RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME, UNDERSTAND?"

"Don't touch me again," she responds, moving away from me. "I won't even taste the water..."

"You'll eat!"

"You're going to force me?!"

"NO," I respond firmly. "That would be begging, and it's not my style."

"Of course not; yours is to threaten."

"Keep quiet, or you'll regret it..."

"You, see? Threatening again," she points out amusedly. "I won't eat. I'm on a hunger strike," she suddenly declares, and I laugh ironically.

"Don't be childish..."

"You need me, don't you?" she says self-assuredly, which bothers me a lot, so I approach her and take her jaw, trying not to hurt her. I didn't do that for just any reason: my mother.

She wouldn't have liked to have a son like me; and I respected that.

"I don't need anyone, least of all a woman, understood?"

"Let me go! Let me go!" I release her.

"Do as you please; I don't care. You'll still marry me."

"Not if I die of hunger or something else," she threatens suddenly.

"Not if I don't allow it," I respond immediately. "Don't even think about trying anything because all you'll achieve is getting locked up somewhere else."

"Don't threaten me."

"Then obey," I reply, and then I just start walking towards the exit when my phone rings.

"A message," I note as I open it to read.

It's a document from Rashad with a short note that says, "This might be useful."

I opened it and saw that it contained all the information about the woman, including very important details, which made me return to her.

"Eat," I say.

"I won't do it," she refuses.

"If you don't, it could cost you a lot," I warn.

"Threatening again?" she scoffs, and I smile.

"Your grandmother is sick, and in a hospital, where, I'm sure, she won't be treated well. Plus, the recovery expenses are very high..."

"What are you saying?" she asks, very concerned. "My grandmother, what?"

"Eat, and your grandmother..."

"How is my grandmother? TELL ME!" she demands, getting closer to me.

"Stable, according to her latest report, but... who knows for how long..."

"You're not threatening me with..."

"NO," I respond immediately. "I'll give you something else..." I glance at my phone, "Merlí..."

"Well... for someone who wants me to be your wife, you don't even know my name."

"Eat, marry me, and I'll take care of your grandmother's recovery."

"I can't believe you..."

"Do you really think you have the option not to believe me?" I ask, amused, and she seems annoyed.

"I want to see her, and I want to make sure she'll be okay."

"Not before the wedding."

"Please, don't be like this," she pleads, very serious and with teary eyes (once again, she was about to cry).

"NO. First the wedding, then you see her."

"It's my grandmother..."

"And she'll recover if you do what you must..." I say very seriously, and she clenches her jaw tightly until she turns around and...

"Okay, okay, but you have to swear to me that she'll be okay," she insists when she looks back at me.

"I give you, my word."

"Are you a man of...?"

"I'm a man of my word," I interrupt her very seriously, and she looks at me for a few seconds before finally nodding.

"I'll trust you..."

"You're not doing me any favors. Let that be clear."

"I'm going to marry you. If that's not a favor, I don't know what is," she replies, which makes me lose my patience again; however, I decide not to play along and leave her room.

She was going to marry me; that was enough. It was all I needed: a fake wife to inherit the entire organization.

"Sir..." a servant speaks to me when I've reached the first floor.

"Make sure she eats dinner. She won't go to bed without it. I'm leaving," I instruct, and then I leave my house.

** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

WEDDING DAY

* * * * * * * * *Merlí * * * * * * * * * *

She hadn't been able to sleep all night. Today was the day, and... she had to go through with marrying him if she wanted her grandmother to recover and receive the best care. She takes the little chain her grandmother gave her on her 18th birthday and kisses it. She never took it off, so that's why she has it here today.

"Something from my family," she whispers as she gets out of bed, hearing the door being opened, and suddenly, many people enter.

"These are the people who will help dress and make you up, miss," the "nanny" that the man had left in her care informs her.

"It's still very early. Besides, who knows if there will be a wedding. Didn't your boss go off to have fun with every woman he could find these past three nights?" she asks, annoyed, and the woman pales instantly.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything about the rumors you spread. But you must be more careful," she advises very seriously.

"Thank you, miss."

"No thanks. I don't like you, and you owe me a favor," she points out, and the woman nods.

"All right, miss."

"Has he arrived yet?"

"Yes, the gentleman has arrived."

"What time is this blasted wedding?"

"At noon, miss."

"It's very soon. Are all these things necessary?" she asks, annoyed, and the woman nods.

"They are the gentleman's orders."

"Ah..." she smiles ironically. "The gentleman," she articulates in the same manner. "And what did the gentleman specifically order?"

"I have his schedule, miss," intervenes a man who, apparently, was one of the makeup artists.

"A schedule... wow," she murmurs, disheartened. "Well, the sooner this farce begins, the sooner it will end," she declares as she heads to the bathroom to shower and thus... start her preparation for "her big day" (note the sarcasm).

** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

AT THE WEDDING

* * * * * * * * *Bayá * * * * * * * * * *

"Today, a new life begins for you, son. You will form a new family, which will be your pillar."

"I know, father," I respond seriously. "I must go to my place; she must be about to enter," I detail as I turn and head to the altar... again.

"Just like two years ago," I think, unable to suppress my anger inside.

Suddenly, the music starts. My mother had chosen the classic "Ave Maria" for the entrance of the woman who would be my fake wife.

"Although, on paper, everything would be real," I remind myself.

I see her appear, and all the cameras focus on her. The flashes from the reporters' cameras seem to bother her, and she doesn't hide it.

"Well, that makes a good wife," I sarcastically tell myself, silently, as I look at her with some annoyance (which I hide when I see the reporters turn their attention to me).

"You didn't tell me there would be this..." she scolds me as she reaches me.

"Don't you know who I am?" I ask through gritted teeth, disguising my annoyance.

"No," she responds sharply and annoyed as she turns towards the judge who would marry us.

"Change that expression," I reluctantly tell her.

"Which one? This one?" she provokes me, putting on a more serious expression and staring at me.

"Disguise it a bit, will you?"

"I don't feel like it," she mutters, challenging me.

"Do you remember our deal?" I ask seriously.

"Of course I do, and nowhere in it was that ridiculous song. It's not like we're getting married religiously," she mutters, annoyed.

"Respect the song," I demand. "My mother chose it," I point out, and she snorts.

"I'm only doing it for that woman I don't even know."

"Change that expression. Show some happiness."

"You're asking for the impossible."

"It's part of our deal," I remind her, looking into her eyes.

"The deal was for us to get married."

"The deal is to get married and for you to be a good wife," I say, trying to be as discreet as possible and pretending to be a happy man, exchanging a few words with his future wife before the wedding, but she wasn't cooperating.

"And according to you, what should I do?"

"To start, show yourself happy."

"Well, let me clarify something: you're asking for the impossible."

"No, it's not impossible."

"Yes, it is..."

"No, it's not," I refute instantly.

"Yes, it is..."

"Remember that your grandmother is sick and that her recovery depends on the attention she receives?"

"Haven't you transferred her yet?" she complains.

"I already did, but if you don't change your expression, I'll send her back to where she was."

"You're..."

"Stop pretending to insult me if you don't want me to include your rowdy friend in my threats," I point out, and I surprise myself.

"Jerk, you wouldn't dare. She has nothing to do with this," she becomes much more serious.

"Watch how you behave. There are cameras here, not just the ones hired by my family, but national and international press..."

"Who are you?"

"That's none of your concern."

"I'm sure none of those reporters know what kind of person you are" —she accuses; and in that moment, on the verge of losing my composure, I decide to take her by the waist and pull her closer to me.

"Don't even think about doing something you'll regret because you know you won't pay for it, but your grandmother or your best friend will."

"You're..."

"Watch every word you say, girl..."

"Jerk..."

"Be careful, don't play with fire," —I demand, very annoyed, under my breath (continuing to be discreet).

"Now, things are clear: you act and pretend well, or... your grandmother or your friend suffer the consequences. You decide... my beloved bride," I murmur, amused, as I start to move away from her.

"You'll regret this someday..." —she seems to promise.

"I'll be looking forward to that day," —I reply jokingly; she seems much more annoyed, but I wasn't interested in how she felt.

"Unhappy..." —she whispers to herself; however, I manage to hear her.

"I hope that's the last insult you throw at me as a fiancée and as a wife. I won't overlook your haughtiness anymore," —I threaten as I approach her again.

"Stay away from me; there's no need for you to be so close."

"We're getting married; closeness is normal," —I state very seriously, and she seems much, much more annoyed. —Change that expression; it's an order.

"I warn you, Santiago Costantini, that this will be the worst mistake of your life," —she threatens, and I can only smile.

"I hope so. Your threat somehow makes the game fun."

"This is not a game."

"Whatever you say, just change your expression once and for all. Many are starting to notice."

"Just shut up. I will. I'll tell you one thing: this smile will never be real for you."

"Do you think I care?"

"Idiot..."

"Just shut up and smile." —I demand, and at that, the woman turns towards me, stares at me, very serious, and suddenly, she flashes a natural smile before throwing herself at me and hugging me.

"What are you doing?" —I ask, very annoyed.

"Do you think I enjoy this? I'm just acting like a happy bride, unhappy.

“This is not necessary.”

“Well, this is what comes in the package and what you'll have to get used to,” —she says, very annoyed. —i***t; I'll make you pay; I promise.

"We'll see about that" —it's the only thing I respond before the wedding starts.