Page 8 of Trick or Threat
“Should be a short marriage then.”
Chapter
Five
Sunday
“Areyou fucking serious right now! I can not believe you agreed to marry that man. He’s old enough to be your fathers’s father.” I sigh as Valentina paces my bedroom, ranting and raving about my life.
Figures.
“That’s called a grandfather. What are they teaching you at that college?” The one I secretly envy, she gets to attend.
Sure, I’m in college too, but online isn’t he same. There was no way in hell that I’d be allowed to attend classes without a whole security team, though. I was not going to do that.
“Mostly drinking, fucking, and how to make drugs.” She deadpans as she stops, placing one hand on her cocked hip.
She stares at me as if I have answers to questions she hasn’t yet asked, so the silence stretches until her famous Italian temper flares.
“SAY SOMETHING!” I roll my eyes at her theatrics.
“Try asking me a question I can answer, bitch.” She drops down on my bed like she’s been pushed and wacks me in the head with my own pillow.
“HEY!” I snatch it away before the room fills with feathers like the last pillow fight she started.
“You called me a bitch.” She pouts, and I giggle at her.
It’s the first real laugh I’ve had in weeks, and her face brightens up like she just won a prize.
“It’s true,” I say once I stop shaking from the laughter.
“Worth it. I missed that smile.” I sigh and nod, knowing she’s right.
I missed it too.
“Ok, up. Let’s get you out of this monstrosity.” I was still in my wedding dress, and it weighed a ton.
She pulls me up to a standing position and starts the process of carefully unbuttoning the fifty-plus pearl buttons that line my spine.
“I need a plan,” I mutter out loud as I watch the progress in the mirror directly in front of me.
“An escape plan?” She looks up from her work to meet my eyes in the reflection and waggles her brows at me.
“Exactly yes.” That makes her frown.
“Gen, you know there’s no escape from the mafia.” The silence that fills my bedroom is deafening.
But she’s right. You’re born into it or sold, married, or traded off to get in, but the only way out is death.
“How about you come stay on campus with me this weekend. It’s Halloween.” My brow arches like she’s lost her mind.
“Talk to Uncle Al. If you’re really going to marry Don Carmine, it’s the least he can do. That old man isn’t gonna remember your pussy from your ass, and you should not have to suffer through losing your virginity to a man so hopped up on Viagra he’ll properly croak the moment your bra falls off.” I tilt my head in thought.
“That’s not a half-bad plan,” I say, lost in thought.
“What Halloween?” I shake my head.
“No, the Viarga. I heard he’s got a bad heart.” She gasps, and I smirk.
