Page 6 of Forgive Me, Father

My phone rang.Nico’s name flashed on the screen, and I picked it up.

He laughed and couldn’t stop.

“It’s not funny,” a woman said.

“Sorry,” he apologized and then continued in Italian, “I found you the perfect bride, ready to say her I do’s.”

THREE

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

Earlier

Tears kept falling,unstoppable, like they had a mind of their own.

I could only imagine the mess I must look like, black mascara trailing down my cheeks, snot everywhere.

As I hurried past hotel guests, I could feel their eyes on me, wide, full of concern, but their pity only made everything worse.

Always honor your deals.Never betray family.

The words pulsed at the back of my mind, carved like scripture, etched deep by years of obedience and expectation.But, right now, they meant nothing.

The weight of my choices pressed on my spine, heavy and sharp, but it was the thought of my mother that chilled me more.If she got her perfect hands on me, she'd drag me down that marble aisle like a lamb to slaughter.Lips painted in politics.Vows signed in blood.

No.

I pushed harder, legs aching as I rushed to the elevator.Fate was on my side; it opened.A few people walked out as I bolted in and collided with a guy.

He caught me just as my knees threatened to give out, his hands firm around my arms, grounding me before I could fall.And then, I broke.The sob escaped without permission, raw and guttural, tearing up my throat like it had been waiting too long.

He smelled dangerous, cigarettes laced with something faintly sweet, like smoke and sin wrapped together.

My vision was blurred by tears, but I could feel his presence, strong and solid, as my heart splintered with every passing second.I couldn’t even bring myself to look up, the weight of everything crashing down.

The stranger’s arms were the only thing keeping me from falling apart.His grip never faltered, it was tight, almost possessive, as though he was the only thing anchoring me to the ground.

“Please, get me out of here.”My voice wobbled as the words fell from my lips.

He stroked my hair and spoke calming words in soft Italian.I had no idea what he said, but the tone sounded concerned.He reached past me and pressed a button.The elevator jolted, then stilled.

I clung to him, the silence wrapping around us like a cocoon, and the tears came harder, hot, uncontrollable, soaking into his shirt as I buried my face against his chest.

I didn’t care how I looked.I didn’t care if he was a stranger.

My whole weight leaned into him, and somehow, without a word, he shifted, guiding us both down until we were on the floor, his arms still around me, like he knew I couldn’t hold myself up any longer.

I thought of all the promises I’d kept.I should just fuck this guy in the elevator, right here and now.It was stupid to keep myself a virgin for someone like Philip.

The guy was patient as I rested in his arms, probably ruining my beautiful wedding gown in the process.When I calmed down enough to stop crying, I tried to wipe my eyes.

He handed me a handkerchief.Who still carried those?

I took it and wiped my eyes.Black mascara ruined the soft white parchment.I’d ruined it too.“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s replaceable.What happened?Did someone hurt you?”he asked.A slight European accent lingered with his English one, but it was almost indiscernible.

My gaze flickered to the web tattoo that struck out from behind his collar.His fingers carried Roman numerals.

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