Page 5 of Curse of the Bride Assassin

This time I can’t keep my dry heaving to myself. Gross. If being skeevy was an Olympic event, Favian would win gold every time.

“If you don’t knock it the fuck off, I’ll come after your entire fucking pack one by one and slit their throats. Don’t fuck with me, this is important,” I growl down the line in my most alpha voice.

He whines a sharp, piercing keen. “Fine. $3K for information, $1k for confidentiality. And a $500 fee for hurting my feelings.”

Fuck you, bro.

“Deal, $4.5K plus a $500 tip should land in your account within a few seconds.” I snap my fingers, magically transferring the money into his account. “I need information on Vincenzo Conti. Everything you have. Deliver it to my email.”

“You’ll get it within the hour. If you ever change your mind, I’ll always be here, my little flower.”

“And I’ll always have my wolfsbane infused knife in my holster, fuckface.” I end the call, because I reached my max on nauseating, unwanted sexual advances for the day.

Twenty minutes later, I sit on the couch and scroll through the file he sent me. Vincenzo joined a matchmaking service a few months ago called Magical Matches. Their website promises clients true love and an eternity of happiness.

Mom and Dad have that, but I don’t think I’ll ever find it. Vincenzo must be searching for it though, or else he wouldn’t have signed up for such an obvious scam. True love comes in its own time. Dad always says destiny can’t be forced to bend to anyone’s whim.

I call the service, and use my manipulation powers to bypass the secretary and go straight to the head honcho, a siren named Melina Monroe. According to my research, she’s an entrepreneur, a Virgo, and a wine connoisseur. A total boss. In another life, we may have been friends.

“Hello Dana!” She makes my fake name sound so chipper. “I hear you’re ready to find true love.”

Vampire manipulation is a true art, especially when being used over the phone on a paranormal species with high empathy, like sirens. I need to get this right the first time. Lowering my tone, I give my voice a sultry edge. Slowly, I repeat my order, so it sinks into her psyche.

“You will match me with Vincenzo Conti right away. I am his one true love. You will match me with Vincenzo Conti right away. I am his one true love. You will match me with Vincenzo Conti right away. I am his one true love.”

I can feel my magic sinking in, even over the phone. Melina hums, and when she responds, her voice is softer, more subdued. A sure sign my magic took.

“I’ll let him know and have him arrange a meeting with you asap. Can you fill out a contact sheet? It’s on the website under forms.”

“Of course. Thank you Melina! Have a wonderful day.”

I end the call and put my phone away. I run into Dad at the kitchen table, eyeing me with a quizzical expression.

“So you’re going through with it? You’ll bring Mom back to us?” The hope in his voice breaks my heart. I knew he missed her, but he always hides his sadness behind a smile.

“Yes, you’ll be okay without me for a bit?”

“I’ll make do. Please don’t fall into whatever trap caught your mom. I can’t bear to lose both of you.”

“I promise. We’re both coming home soon.”

Whatever it takes, I will save my mom. Even if it means pretending to fall in love with Vincenzo Conti and murdering the most high profile member of the Conti Vampire Mafia.

3

VINCENZO

The restaurant is bustling with activity. I can see every waiter and diner from my fan-back booth in the far corner. Everyone but my hopeful future wife.

Melina claims she finally found the perfect woman for me. After waiting three months—thirty days longer than the anticipated time frame, she called today to tell me that she found someone. It’s about time, too. The last six candidates left much to be desired. Seriously, each one was worse than the last.

The first one had a unibrow and her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Candidate two chewed so loudly that I contemplated strangling her to end the torturous sound of her lips smacking together. The only thing worse was being able to see macerated food move around in her mouth.

The third and fourth were boring—both were breathing blowup dolls with IQs that rivaled the rabbit salads they ate. Neither had a sense of humor, and I wanted to scream at how one dimensional they were.

If I have to deal with my future wife every day, she has to be able to carry a conversation and keep up with my appetite. It’s awkward to eat a burger when the woman across from you isdrooling over it, cranky as fuck because she won’t allow herself to have one. For fuck’s sake, just order a burger. It’s protein!

The fifth one took one look at me with wide, fearful eyes and promptly left the restaurant. I probably dodged a bullet with her anyway.

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