25. Elio
Chapter twenty-five
Elio
The door to my office in one of my high-end casinos bursts open.
Cortez strides in, taking long steps towards me, a wide beam on his face. His grin is boyish, almost breathtaking, as he raises his hand into the air, waving his phone.
“ Capo , it’s done,” he announces, showing me a headline on his phone. “The convict has been found guilty. The evidence was substantial enough to pin that guy. There’s definitely going to be no doubts, even in the nearest future.”
Relief washes over me as I lean back in my chair. “Good! It was a great idea to have his wife testify against him. The judge would never fathom foul play in such witnessing,” I say, exhaling deeply. “Send the money to his family, as we agreed. Make sure they lack nothing.”
Cortez nods, already scribbling notes in his little notepad. “Consider it done, Capo .”
As he turns to leave, I stop him. “Wait.”
He turns around to look back at me, curiosity lifting his brows.
“This news,” my hands reach out for the buttons on my jacket, sealing it closed as I rise to my feet, “it’s arrived on a day of celebration. You’ll need to start making arrangements for my wedding.”
Cortez freezes, then slowly turns back, his expression shifting to what I think is disbelief. “Your wedding? With Aria?”
“Yes.” That is the only word that makes it out of my mouth as I walk towards the window to stare out at the bustling street.
He moves to a chair, lowering himself into it like he needs a moment to process what he’s just heard. “ Capo , I have to admit this feels strange… you and a woman ? and commitment? I never imagined you would think of marriage. I mean...you’ve never really valued women as being anything beyond temporary objects of pleasure. Ever.”
My head jerks over my shoulder so I can take a good look at him. “It’s just business, Cortez. Fake. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re actually marrying her. That’s a bit more than business.”
“It’s a calculated move.” This time, I turn myself around completely towards him. “A move that would benefit both parties involved. That’s all.”
Cortez leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “So you’re not going to fall in love with her one day? Or pull out of the mafia because of her?”
I eye his arched brows. He looks confused…disappointed even, and there’s a glimmer of pain I spot beyond his expression. A small breath escapes my lips.
His words hang in the air for a few seconds, and I turn back to the window, my gaze fixed on the skyline.
I contemplate his words. It’s true. I had sworn I would never feel, never love, and certainly never hurt because of love. It has always been a foreign concept to me. I was too protective of what I had achieved after going through the hell I did as a child. I would never let any woman, any feelings, or any distractions derail me from my intended path. The path to leading my mafia family to becoming the most powerful empire not only in New York, but also across America. And I was, am, well on my way.
Then a feisty, innocent little spitfire from a totally opposite world, no less, swaggered into my life. She was supposed to remain just that temporary object of pleasure! Especially with that untouched sweet cunt of hers. But when I felt this uncontrollable rage the first time I caught another man looking at her?a rage that made me want to rip out his eyes?I knew I was screwed. Because I realized I’m not just liking Aria Abruzzi, I’ve landed head-first in love with her.
Nonetheless, I am not ready to admit it yet. Not to anyone else, anyway. I have to first make sense of all of this myself. Make sure that my mind, heart?and dick?are all in sync.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Brother. I won’t suddenly abandon my hard work over the years. And I definitely won’t be abandoning you,” I say instead. “Why don’t you run along? C’è un matrimonio da pianificare (There’s a wedding to plan).”
He opens his mouth and looks like he’s about to say something, but then shakes his head and stands up. “If you say so, Boss. I guess congratulations are in order.”
The grin that spreads across my face is genuine. My hands reach out for his outstretched hand. There are no words between us, but we hold each other’s gaze for a while. Then he nods and leaves.
Alone again, I lean against the windowsill and take a deep breath. No, despite these ‘feelings,’ I can’t let this marriage thing be anything more than business. And with that, I feel my brain trying to take over again.
For fuck’s sake, why can’t you get your head and dick in line?
***
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my walk-in closet, I adjust the lapels of the navy-colored suit I’m wearing. My hair has been slicked back in the smoothest way I’ve ever worn it. This wedding may not be the real deal, but it’s going to be real enough to announce to the whole world that Aria Abruzzi is officially a Donatelli now.
Speaking of Aria, I can hear heels clicking in the doorway. Her mass of hair is tied into a ponytail on her head, and she’s lined her eyes so darkly they stand out against the rest of her face. She’s fucking beautiful.
“Whatever is going on, tell me it’s your idea of a joke,” she snaps, crossing the room in quick, furious strides. “How the hell am I just hearing that we’re getting married now?”
Honestly, I was expecting something more fiery from her. My facial expression is left neutral as I stare into those charming eyes of hers. “I see you’ve heard. It’s not a big deal, just something official to seal our union…”
“Seal our union?” Her lashes blink furiously as her mouth goes open and closes itself shut again, scoffing lightly. “Elio Donatelli, tell me you’re messing around right now.”
“Go get dressed, Princess. Your father’s on his way.”
Her eyes widen as she throws up her hands. “You invited my father? To a wedding I didn’t even know about?”
“Well…yes,” is the most logical response right now, especially since she has her hands akimbo and is walking up and down the length of my bedroom.
“You must really be crazy to think I’m actually walking down some aisle to officially marry you. What we already have, the pretend proposal and our living arrangement, should suffice for our deal.”
Before I can respond, her phone buzzes in her hands. She glances at the screen, then back at me, ignoring the call.
“Aria,” my voice is as calm as can be. “Instead of standing here and arguing with me, do the wise thing and get dressed. We are getting married, Bellissima !”
Her mouth opens, ready to unleash more fury, but she stops when the ringing begins again. My eyes dart toward the caller ID. It’s her dad. Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath, then storms out without another word.
No matter how much of a fuss she makes, Aria Abruzzi is only a couple of minutes away from being completely mine. It’s fucking time!
***
The well-groomed garden behind the Donatelli mansion is quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds. Soft, colorful blooms entwine with the green shrubs, creating nature’s masterpiece.
There are no fancifully arranged chairs–just a simple altar set up at the far end with a priest standing patiently in his black robe and white collar. The late afternoon sun casts a harsh orange glow over everything.
Cortez closes an eye at me in a wink as I advance towards the altar, my hands clasped in front of me. He’s dressed sharply in a dark suit. The expression on his face is unreadable, but I know he’s only looking out for us and the family as a whole.
My gaze is fixed on the entrance to the garden, waiting.
Then she appears. Aria descends the stairs, her hand lightly resting on her father’s arm. She’s wearing a simple but elegant ivory dress, holding a bouquet of hand-picked flowers in one hand and a pretty little veil uncovered on her head. Her face is calm, but her eyes are burning with suppressed anger aimed squarely at me.
I picked the ivory dress myself, but I never imagined it would hug her slender frame so beautifully, accentuating the dip in her waistline and the curves of her hips.
When they arrive at the altar, her father places her hand in mine with a firm nod, then steps back.
“Shall we begin?” the priest asks, his solemn voice cutting through the silence.
My head bobs in a nod, my grip on Aria’s hand steady, though she tries to pull it back slightly.
“Marriage is not only a union. It’s an institution, one that must be respected and honored by both parties. That being said, do you, Elio Donatelli, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife till death do you part?”
As if by instinct, both our eyes raise to gaze at each other.
“Yes, I do,” I respond. This may be fake, but I can’t explain how much her coming into my life has changed me. At this point, there are no regrets. We’re both getting what we want from this deal, and I’m glad we’re finally getting it over with.
“Aria Abruzzi, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband till death do you part?”
She immediately turns her face away from mine, casting her gaze at her father, who’s dabbing away at the corners of his eyes. I’d called him earlier that day to tell him that I planned a surprise wedding for Aria and lied that it was because she was getting stressed about all the preparations. He was more than overjoyed and even said he’d picked the suit for this occasion the day I gave him the invite at the hospital. “Yes, I do,” she calls out uninterestedly, as if she cannot wait any longer for this ceremony to end. Cortez hands me the ring I got for Aria, and I slip it onto her finger.
Hearing the priest say “You may now kiss the bride,” I step closer to Aria, tilting her chin up gently. Our lips meet, soft and brief, but her lips are stiff, unyielding. When we pull back, her eyes meet mine again, filled with unmistakable regret.
“Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Donatelli!”
Cortez and Aria’s father burst into applause, both of them taking turns to squeeze Aria and me in congratulatory hugs.
Aria pulls her hand from mine as soon as we turn away from Cortez and her father, who are the only people in attendance. As we walk down the aisle together, I lean in slightly and murmur, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
Her response is a sharp elbow to my ribs, hidden behind her bouquet. I bite back a smirk and straighten up. This marriage is going to be interesting. I can already feel it.
“Move a little closer, give us a smile…and cheers!”
Cortez has his phone in different angles, playing photographer, asking us to tilt our heads, smile more, or look at each other. Aria barely turns her face toward mine. When she does, her jaw is set, her smile fake and tight.
Once I’ve had enough, I turn over to Aria’s father, who has been standing in a corner, secretly taking pictures with his own phone.
“Thank you for coming, Deputy Chief.” My lips are tilted in a small smile.
“You better do my girl right, Donatelli, or you’ll know why I’m deputy chief.”
Our heads fall back as laughter rattles through our bodies.
“Dad.” Aria cuts in, giving me a once over with her eyes before steering her dad away from me and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Karl Abruzzi releases his grip on his daughter, framing her face with his palms while whispering something to only her hearing.
Once they turn back to me, I beckon to one of the men who’d been standing by as security.
“Take Deputy Chief Abruzzi home,” I tell him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Make sure he gets there safely.”
The tall, lanky guy nods. “Right away, Sir.”
Aria’s father clasps my hand firmly. “Take care of her,” he says, his voice warm with emotions.
“I promise.” The reply rolls off my tongue just as one of my cars is brought around to pick him up.
As the Deputy Chief is led to the car, I turn to Cortez. “Take Aria to the private apartment. It’s ready for our honeymoon.” Cortez glares at me, but I turn my head away, pretentiously waving at her father, whose car is almost out of sight.
My gaze turns back to Aria, her arms folded, bouquet drooping in one hand. “You’ll like it. It’s private and quiet.”
She doesn’t respond, her eyes narrowing slightly as she bares her teeth in frustration.
Cortez smirks, clearly enjoying the tension, and gestures toward the car. “This way, Mrs. Donatelli.”
Aria shoots me one last furious look before walking toward the car. Cortez follows behind, hands in his pockets, whistling softly.
My eyes stay on them, watching them drive off before turning back to the house. There are last-minute instructions to give before I join her.
I call my men together, speaking to them in a clipped tone, laying out the plan for the next few days, ensuring every corner is covered.
Ready to leave, I step out, feeling the cool evening air against my skin.
Fake or not, as of this moment, I’m married to Aria Abruzzi.
She’s legally mine now, whether she likes it or not.