Chapter 10 Ayanna
ten
Ayanna
This woman was trying every single bit of my patience.
The day was supposed to be about Teo and me—our wants and needs—but somehow, I’d been reduced to a silent observer in my own wedding planning.
I sat quietly in the Donatelli compound, listening to the event planner tell me how I would prepare for my day—what decisions would be made, what would best honor traditions, and how little my own wishes necessarily mattered.
I was trying to be calm, but the more she made plans that weren’t mine, the more irritated I became.
“For the procession, we’ll have the solo harpist begin with an instrumental rendition of ‘Ave Maria’. It’s a timeless choice. I’ve already confirmed with the musician to ensure it’s flawless,” the woman informed the table, her tone filled with certainty.
The statement instantly pulled me back into the whirlwind of planning the details, because I wasn’t feeling the musical selection. While a harpist was nice, I preferred something a bit more lively.
“A harpist? I was thinking more along the lines of a string quartet, and a live band for the reception,” I told her, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
The planner raised her eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the suggestion. “Oh dear, finding a quartet on such short notice would be quite impossible, don’t you think?” she dismissed. “Trust me, the harpist is a much better choice. It will create an elegance that a band simply cannot match.”
She plastered on a fake smile, expecting me to nod and keep things moving smoothly.
When I stared at her blankly, her expression tightened, but she pressed on.
“I understand that you might not be familiar with the nuances of planning an event for a high-ranking member of the mafia, but trust me, darling, simplicity is key.” Then she tried to move on to the seating arrangement as if my desires didn’t matter.
I took a deep breath and clenched my hands in my lap, willing myself not to disrespect my elders or my future sister-in-law.
Both Teo’s mom and grandmother sat at the table, along with his sister Sophia.
My gaze drifted out of the window, taking in the beautiful Donatelli gardens.
I’d promised myself to go with the flow, but I had my limits. And she was testing them.
“Now hang on a minute, Lidia,” Teo’s mother, Rita, stopped the event planner from moving on. “A string quartet and a live band both can be arranged. If Ayanna prefers strings and a band, you will make it happen,” she told her firmly. “Will you not?”
Lidia hesitated, clearly taken aback, but knew better than to challenge Rita. She was still the wife of the sitting Don, and her word carried significant weight in the family. Lidia quickly nodded, making a note in her planner. “Of course, Mrs. Donatelli. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”
Still, Lidia’s hesitation and downright disrespect toward me didn’t sit right with me.
I found myself staring blankly at the floral samples spread across the table.
I was 1.2 seconds from losing my shit, because I thought pre-wedding preparations were supposed to feel magical.
Instead, I was drowning and suppressing my frustration trying to appease everyone.
Including this looney-tune of a woman.
For an entire week, all I’d heard from everyone, excluding Teo, was how my role in this family symbolized unity and strength.
Extended family harped on how every detail of the wedding had to be perfect, and how no one could detect any flaws, or weaknesses.
It was almost exhausting hearing daily reminders of my responsibility to both families’ legacies, or trying to uphold everyone’s traditions.
I was alright with tradition, even accepted that this would become my new norm.
What I wouldn’t sacrifice though, was my own sense of identity and happiness in the process.
This wedding would reflect the joy I was determined to find in me and Teo’s partnership.
And this woman would not dictate anything concerning our special day.
Before I could dwell further on my thoughts, Lidia’s annoying ass voice pulled me back to the present. “And now for the seating arrangements.”
She pulled out a detailed chart, spreading it across the large table.
Color-coded sections filled the paper, detailing where each guest would be seated.
With neat lines and carefully written names, the different families were grouped together, with the most prominent families positioned closest to the head table.
“Now,” she started, “We’ve placed your family on the left side of the aisle and Teo’s family on the right, ensuring both have a perfect view of the ceremony. We’ve also reserved a special section for close friends to keep the atmosphere intimate yet inclusive,” she told me.
“And what about the Vitales? They are our closest allies and practically family to us,” Rita responded. “We need to ensure they are seated with the utmost respect. Their presence is crucial, and their support means the world to the Donatellis.”
Lidia nodded, adjusting a few names on the chart— moving families I’d never heard of across the page, ensuring the Vitales were prominently placed. “Of course, Mrs. Donatelli. I’ve updated the seating to reflect that. I’ve switched the Ricci family with the Vitales. How does this look?”
We all looked at the chart, and I shrugged, indifferent about this part of the planning. Where people chose to sit didn’t matter to me as long as everyone had a chair. But obviously seating was a huge deal.
“Much better.” Rita nodded, satisfied that the hierarchy was being respected.
“And the flowers?” Nonna Donatelli, Teo’s grandmother interjected, her Italian accent carrying a soothing cadence that softened her words. She folded her hands gracefully, fixing the planner with an expectant look. “We decided on calla lilies, yes?”
“Actually,” I interjected, cutting the planner off before she could answer, “I was thinking peonies instead.”
The planner blinked at me, her smile frozen in place as if she hadn’t heard me right. “Oh, but calla lilies are customary in all Donatelli family weddings, dear,” she said, her tone polite on the surface but laced with condescension. Her gaze flicked to Nonna, clearly seeking backup.
I returned her smile, calm and collected. “I understand the tradition, and calla lilies are lovely. But peonies hold a special meaning for me, and I’d like them included instead.” My tone was even.
I was doing my best to not lose my shit with this lady.
She’d been testing me all week, slyly pushing back on nearly every decision I made.
When I mentioned liking ivory, champagne, and white as a color scheme, she insisted that those colors were too bland.
Then she boldly suggested an intense palette of burgundy and blush instead; arguing that they would make a more memorable impression.
Her constant challenges seemed less about aesthetics and more about undermining my authority.
It was apparent that she had strong ties to all of the families.
Her insistence on overriding my choices felt like a power play.
Being the wife of a high-ranking mafia man herself, it was evident that she disliked outsiders and wanted to control the situation.
Today was the final straw. She would either fall in line or find someone else’s wedding to plan.
She hesitated for a moment as she considered my wishes as if it were up to her. Her pen hovered over her notepad before making notes to change the flowers. “Of course, Miss Reed.”
Her lips were tight, like it killed her to honor my wishes. Then the woman went on to say, “But given the significance of the Donatelli traditions, I assumed you’d want to honor them fully, especially since this is such a... monumental event.”
The emphasis on monumental felt like a subtle jab, like she was reminding me that I should feel privileged to be associated with any of the Northern families.
My jaw tightened and my eyes narrowed. “I respect and honor family traditions,” I replied, my words clipped, “but this isn’t their wedding. It’s mine.”
The smile on her face wavered for only a split second before she looked at Teo’s mother and grandmother for backup. When no one said a word, she continued, “Of course this is your wedding, but—“
“But nothing,” I interrupted, my voice sharp enough to make her pause.
“Your only answer should be, ‘Of course, Ayanna or Ms. Reed’. Anything after that is unacceptable. I feel like you’re having trouble understanding who’s really in charge here, so let me make it clear.
Me... I am.” I pointed to my chest, emphasizing my words.
“If I say peonies, you order peonies. If I say duck walk across the garden in heels and tie a big-ass ribbon around every maple tree, you’ll do that too.
If that’s a problem, let me know now so I can find someone who actually understands how to do their job. ”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Sophia suppressing a grin, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
Nonna let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in her chair, while Rita sat there like a proud mother.
It wasn’t that I didn’t respect traditions, because I deeply valued them.
However, it was important for me to express my individuality and have a wedding that truly reflected my own values.
My mother carried peonies on her wedding day, and so would I.
There was no way I was going to let some random event planner tell me what I could or couldn’t have at my wedding. I looked at her, my eyes unwavering, daring her to try me.
The longer I stared, and no one came to her defense, the more the color drained from her face. Finally, she stammered, “No problem at all, Miss Reed.” Her pen shook slightly as she made a note. “Peonies it is.”