CHAPTER 3

I wiped away the tears rolling down my eyes as I played with my engagement ring on my finger. My engagement ring? I never imagined my wedding to be this way.

Tomorrow will be when I would willingly tie myself to a notorious psychopath. Tomorrow, I would begin a life of enduring constant disrespect.

The past few days has been heartbreaking and hard for me. Tears flowed freely down my face, and I sought solace in dancing at the public studio, only to return to the cycle of tears once more. Last

night, in a desperate attempt to distract myself from my miserable life, I ventured to a club, longing for an escape I decided to get laid one last time before committing my forever to him.

Prayers filled my thoughts, eagerly wishing he'd reject me, I was so disgusted by his presence. The fear of potential harm haunted me, a troubling uncertainty about what might happen if he ever laid hands on me. Yet, today, I made the painful decision to proceed with the marriage. It was a pact, a promise to my brother Camillo and my friend Ivy, who were enjoying in their love and success.

Camillo and Ivy had returned from college, shining with happiness and love. During the car ride, Camillo boasted ceaselessly about his top-ten achievement, honoring the promise he made to me. It seemed only fair that I uphold my end of the bargain.

Lucas, the source of my torment, remained vague, withholding essential information about our upcoming wedding. No details about the venue, no sign of the dress he promised. Tonight, I sat alone, drowning my sorrows in a beer. My bridal shower was a distant dream; bridesmaids and guests remained unknown.

"Enter," I uttered in response to the soft knock on the door.

"Princess," papa began, his disapproval evident as I brought the can of beer to my lips but I could not care less.

"Quit filling your stomach with filth."

"It's just one can of beer, papa," I responded, already irritated. "Don't blame me; there's no bottled beer available."

"What's with the attitude?"

I turned towards him, frustration in my eyes. "I can't believe you. After everything I told you he did to me last week, you still expect me to marry that heartless man."

"Princess, I'm not forcing you to marry him."

"But you are! If I don't, you'll make Camillo work for him."

"You don't need to worry about that. Just go back to America, spend time with your friends, and continue dance."

"Why can't I run the business? Why are you forcing him to take it?"

"Princess, your brother doesn't want to run the business, and you have no idea how to. What happens when I die?"

"I can learn! I haven't seen you do much but sit at your desk and order people around." He sighed.

"Princess, I've already made a deal with Firmino. I cannot decline a man like that." "Yes, papa, you can!"

"Don't you understand? Look at his cold behavior! He doesn't need our permission for the deeds. He does not have to agree to marry you. If he wanted, he could kill us all and take what he wants and he won't lose anything. I am nothing compared to such a man." My shoulders drooped; I'd never heard papa degrade himself like this.

"When you marry him, be careful. He won't hesitate to kill you."

"Why do you know people like this, papa?" He hesitated before responding. "Because I am someone like that."

I gazed up at him. "What?"

"Sit down, princess." I quickly took a seat, awaiting whatever he was about to talk about.

"I tried to protect you and your brother from this truth. That's what your mother wanted. When the crime intensified, and things became too dangerous, we fled to America."

"Papa, what are you talking about?" I spoke.

"Camilla, I am part of the Italian mafia, and Lucas Firmino is nearly at the top of the chain. I believe he wants the title deeds to gain more influence and ascend to the peak. He's young but promising." My heart raced as I processed this revelation, acknowledging what I had deep down but refused to accept.

"Why would he agree to marry me then?" He shrugged.

"He's getting older, and people are talking. Perhaps he's ready to start a family and put an end to the gossip."

"Get out papa," I managed, attempting to hold back my tears. "Princess..."

"Get out papa! I want to be alone for the rest of today!" I wasn't ready for any of this. The mafia? Starting a family? Just a few months ago, I was dancing on stage.

The door was pushed open, and I took another swig of my beer.

"Papa, I told you I want to be alone for the rest of tonight," I said, letting my tears flow freely because i was tired of being strong.

"I'm not your papa." I turned around quickly to find Lucas at the door. I wiped my face and brushed back my hair, standing up.

"Lucas, what are you doing here?" He tossed my wedding dress onto the bed.

"Oh, thanks." He approached me, handing over a box. I eyed him suspiciously before cautiously accepting it. I opened it to reveal a stunning pair of diamond earrings with a matching necklace and bracelet. I smiled. "You didn't have to buy these."

"I didn't," he replied. "Every bride in my family receives these from a parent. Since mine are both dead, I have to pass them down myself," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh," I murmured, setting it aside. "I'm sorry about your-" I halted as I noticed his irritated look at my canned beer.

"Americans," he muttered, shaking his head.

"I was born here in Italy," I defended myself. He looked up at me. "That doesn't matter. You're still an American. You have no Italian culture."

"I lived here until I was eight."

"Yet you drink canned beer? You're an embarrassment to us," he cursed.

"You're an embarrassment to all people," I retorted. We locked eyes, neither wanting to look away.

"I bet you haven't even kissed an Italian man," he scoffed, and I remained silent. "I can't believe I've agreed to wed such a woman," he complained.

"Well, don't marry me. I'll gladly take back my father's deeds. I don't want to marry you."

"Those deeds belong to me, and if marrying a woman like you is my debt, then I will do it and suffer." I pretended to not be hurt by his words. He claimed I was a terrible person to marry, but what about him? If I'm that bad, I don't want to know what he's like.

He checked his watch. "I'm not wasting any more of my time with you."

"Good," I replied, relieved he was finally leaving. "Good," he replied before exiting the room, showing his middle finger. I reciprocated with both of mine as he shut the door. I hated him. I picked up the can, only to find it empty.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was my bridal shower.