8. Antonio
Chapter eight
Antonio
T aking on this stupid ultimatum from Gabriel was supposed to be easy. I had no interest in being in a relationship after what happened with Valerie last year. I’ve learnt that protecting my heart and peace is more important, or at least that’s what I thought—because the second I laid eyes on Theresa, I was left dumbfounded.
I nearly sent my jaw into a spasm when I first laid eyes on her during the ceremony, but looking at her right now might send me into cardiac arrest.
She’s slipped into a lace two-piece for the reception, and it’s going to kill me. It’s a full lace top with the tiniest pair of matching lace shorts. Her white garter with purple flowers and yellow ribbons taunts me from her upper thigh, and her white heels allow her to match me in height.
I’m stunned into my spot as I watch her talk to her sister. She looks breathtaking.
Eventually, the doors open, and the sound of music travels through the air, signalling not only us, but to the rest of the wedding party that we’re good to enter. Thersa and I walk into the grand hall, hand in hand, smiling like the most ecstatic newlyweds possible. Cheers from around the room ring in my ears, and everyone welcomes us and the bridal party into the venue.
It’s truly and utterly believable. Like any good lie should be. Perfectly plausible.
We head for the table at the front of the room and take our seats. She drops my hand like a hot iron as soon as we get behind the table.
Every touch from her feels electric. I thought that when I kissed her in the church, I would feel repulsed by the forced nature. But I didn’t, and I have no idea why. I look over at the female I’m now supposed to refer to as my wife, and watch as she whispers with her friend.
The kiss felt everything but fake or forced. It felt hot, it seared right through every fibre of my body, and most importantly, it felt addictive. But like any addictive substance, that only means trouble.
I can’t want to kiss her because then it’ll mean I’m getting distracted. Falling in love with my wife was and is not part of the plans.
Mattia grabs my shoulder as he takes his seat next to me. He all but screamed like a little girl when I asked him to be my best man. It was an obvious request, because even for my arranged wedding, I knew there was no one else I’d rather have by my side.
“You’ll never guess who’s here.” His eyes are wide.
“That guy from the band Adriano loves? Or wait…is it Zachkary Lancaster?”
Mattia furrows his brows at my guesses. “If you’re talking about Natalia’s brother, yes, he is here. And no, you’re not that well known that a Formula 1 driver would be at your wedding.” He shakes his head before nodding to the back of the room.
My eyes follow his, and I nearly jump when they meet none other than Enzo’s.
“I thought you said you never invited him?”
“We didn’t. But your father-in-law did.”
I look to my left along the table where my brothers and their respective dates sit. All their eyes are glued to Enzo, as well, and they seem equally as shocked as I am. I shift my chair back, ready to head over to Ambrose to ask what the fuck is going on, when the DJ’s voice echoes through the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will turn your attention to the dance floor, the happy couple will be sharing their first dance.”
My eyes widen before they shoot down to Theresa, who sits frozen in her spot. I lean down until my mouth is next to her ear. Goosebumps rise along her skin as I say, “Did you know about this?”
Her head shakes slowly, and I sigh. “I don’t dance, Theresa.”
“We just have to sway for two seconds. I'm sure you’re capable of a simple task like that,” she fires, her eyes meeting mine.
“Fine.” I return to my height and offer her a hand. She sighs before placing hers in mine. Then the warmth is back as we walk hand in hand to the dance floor, where everyone’s eyes burn into us.
The DJ starts to play some generic slow song, and I pull Theresa towards me, placing my hands on her waist.
She leisurely wraps her arms around my neck like it’s the most natural thing she could do. Her eyes pierce into mine, and I’m nearly frozen in my spot under her stare until she pokes the back of my neck, reminding me to move.
We begin swaying along to the music at an almost torturous pace. “You know my husband’s hands probably wouldn’t be this high on my waist.”
I raise a brow. I placed my hands here out of respect, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable by an unwanted touch.
“Are you sure?”
“Gotta make it believable, Mr. Perfect.” She rolls her eyes, and I stifle back a grin as I let my hands sink lower until they are just above her ass, allowing my fingertips to splay across her soft flesh.
I can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin lace fabric, and if the sight wasn’t bad enough, having her this close and being able to touch her is not helping all the surprising dirty thoughts my mind is conjuring up. It’s not long before I’m thinking about our end-of-year financials to keep me from a very embarrassing situation.
Her palm lands on my face and guides my face back down to look at her, and I didn’t even notice that I started to zone out and stare off into space.
“At least pretend to be interested in me.”
I’m caught off guard by her accusation. This girl is clueless about how she’s making me feel right now, how my body is begging me to bring it any sort of relief.
“Trust me, I don’t have to pretend,” I grumble.
Her eyes widen in surprise as I pull her flush with my body. I know she can feel just how hard I am.
I lean down until my mouth is by her ear. “This is all your fault, Theresa. You and this stupid little lace outfit.”
Suddenly, her nails dig into the back of my neck, and I let the smallest bit of a moan slip out. “You’ll be bleeding out on the floor before I let you touch me beyond this. You’re not entitled to any part of my body, no matter how much you think you are now that we’re married.”
I pull back and furrow my brows. I'm met with a death glare, and suddenly, I know why she feels this way. “Kylian told you what I said.”
She doesn’t answer me, but her silence says enough.
“Your father threatened someone very important to me. I couldn’t let that go without him knowing just how equal the playing field is. I would never touch you without your consent, Theresa.”
“Theá,” she corrects.
“Theresa,” I respond.
“The playing field will never be equal, and just when you think it is, you’ve already lost,” she says softly, just as the song is coming to an end and transitions into another.
I blink rapidly as I look around and notice how many of the guests have joined us. I was too caught up in Theá-land to even notice.
This is a problem. She is a problem.
“Mind if I cut in?” her father asks from next to us. I step back so quickly you’d swear I just got caught humping my girlfriend by her father.
I mean, that is sort of what I was doing.
I step back, assuming he wants to do the traditional father-daughter dance, but when his arm drapes around my shoulder, I realise he’s here for me and not her.
“Antonio, there are a few friends of mine I want you to meet.” He guides me over to a table where a group of men are sitting, chatting, and giggling like teenage girls. A familiar face meets my gaze, and I nearly freeze in my spot.
Horatio.
It’s easy to forget the reason I find myself in this situation. That or it’s just easy to get distracted by my new wife, so much so that I forgot that Mattheo is her uncle and Horatio probably works very closely with her father.
I can’t believe we almost let this man become a permanent part of our business.
“Gentlemen, this is Antonio Vitale. My daughter’s new husband.” Gabriel beams like an excited father is expected to.
It doesn’t take too much for me to turn on my usual golden boy persona as I smile at all the men and thank them for joining me on the happiest day of my life.
“Antonio here has some amazing connections in the art and finance scene, and he’s so eager to help out and build some new connections with you all.”
I am?
I don’t let my mask slip, but I do observe Gabriel with care. He’s working at something here, something more than just a simple arranged marriage.
“We look forward to it, Antonio,” Horatio says, and I can hear an air of cockiness in his tone. The motherfucker is lucky he was in the bathroom that afternoon, or he probably would’ve met a fate similar to Mattheo.
“Maybe we should set up a meeting sometime soon?” I offer, hoping my tone doesn’t sound too awkward.
“Yes.” Gabriel smiles. “Maybe dinner next week? I’ll have my assistant check everyone’s schedules.”
The men all agree, and it’s not long before Gabriel is ushering me back towards the main crowd.
“You catch on quickly. Good. I knew I liked you more than that arrogant brother of yours.”
“Hmm, anything to be of service,” I say sarcastically. “If you’re done parading me around like a trophy, I need a drink,” I snap and step out of his grasp.
I slip through the crowd and head straight to the bar, dodging any extended family and their congratulations, because I don’t know how to react to it.
Thank you for coming to my arranged marriage, where my wife hates me.
“One whiskey, single ice cube,” I bark at the bartender, who jumps up to serve me.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re the younger version of Ambrose and your father?” I hear Enzo from next to me. “You even order whiskey like them.”
“A lot of people drink whiskey like this.” I try not to give in to his very obvious jab at what he knows will rile me up the most.
“I will say I was very hurt when I wasn’t invited to your wedding, cugino.”
I stay silent and sip my drink, letting the liquid burn its way down my throat, straight to my stomach. But the heat it leaves behind is nothing compared to the lingering feeling of having Theresa close to me.
“I figured there’s no way you would’ve purposely forgotten to invite me, especially since Mattia is your best man.”
“I wasn’t in charge of the guest list, Enzo.”
Enzo has always had a bit of a soft spot for being left out of things. Everyone assumes he and Ambrose would be close due to their age, but they’ve never gotten along. Their bond suffered before it ever had the chance to form; they were always pinned against one another, and in the end, Ambrose got everything Enzo ever wanted. It’s a feeling I can relate to—Ambrose does get everything. He gets the girl, the job, the reputation.
“So I’ve heard.” He sips his drink, and I’m surprised that he isn’t pressing the issue more.
“So what are you doing here?” I pry, and a smirk settles on his lips.
“I came to watch my younger cousin make the biggest mistake of his life.” He pats my shoulder harshly. “Be careful, Nino. If you lay down with the dogs, you’ll wake up with fleas,” he says lowly before walking off, leaving me alone with my increasingly dark thoughts.
This is going to be a long night.
“Antonio.” A female’s voice rings through the air.
God no. Not now.
Valerie slides into the space Enzo previously occupied. “That was uhm…something,” she says, referring to the little dance show Theresa and I just put on.
She looks up at me with concern simmering in her eyes. It looks so out of place on her soft features, and even more against the short, pink, babydoll style dress she has on. She looks beautiful. She always does, but something about her being here today is almost bittersweet.
A few years ago, I truly did believe that we would end up here, but under very different circumstances.
“Yeah, all of this is something.” I sip my drink, finally pulling my eyes away from her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I scoff.
“Everything. You wouldn’t be here right now if I never married Mattheo…” she trails off, dropping her voice at the mention of him, presumably because many of these people are his family. “If I never married him and then came home and got you all involved, this would have never happened. I—"
“Stop,” I cut her off. “Please just stop apologising. As much as I want to hate you for everything that is happening, I can’t, so please stop. It’s just a constant reminder.” I down the rest of my drink and turn to face her. She seems taken aback by my sudden outburst, and I don’t blame her.
I’ve always been quick to forgive Valerie just to keep her in my life, but right now, she is the exact reason this is all happening. And everywhere I look, I see her and the constant reminder that she’s not mine, nor will she ever be.
“Congratulations, by the way.” I look down at the giant engagement ring on her left hand. “My invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail.” I mimic Enzo’s earlier mood.
“Antonio, we didn’t mean to not invite you, it was for your safety.”
“Oh, and you lost my phone number, too? So you couldn’t just call to maybe I don’t know…give me a fucking heads up, Valerie?”
Her eyes start to water. “And please don’t cry. I can’t handle that today as well. I’m sorry.” I find myself rushing to apologise, not wanting this to get any bigger.
“Why is she crying? What did you do to her?” Ambrose says as he steps up next to us.
Of course, he’s just going to swoop in like the hero, in the right place at the right time, as always.
“Nothing. We were having a conversation, and she got emotional,” I spit back.
He steps up to me. “Are you going to fight me now? You’ve already taken everything I’ve wanted in life. You want to take my wedding day away, too?” I ask.
His eyes soften.
“Or are you just upset because I finally beat you to something for once?” I egg him on, and I don’t know why I am. Everything leading up to today has been bottled up, and there is only one person I want to blame for it all.
“This isn’t the place.”
“It never is, and you’ll make sure of that. Because after today, I’ll just be sent off again, just like I always am whenever you don’t want to deal with the real problem.”
“Antonio,” he warns.
“Just admit it, you're a selfish dick who will do anything to not deal with his problems.”
He grabs my arm and drags me out of the room. It’s only then that I notice people were starting to stare. He pushes me out of the venue until we’re both outside.
The warm, summer air hits me, and it feels like it only eggs me on further.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he asks.
“You. You’re my fucking problem.”
He takes a step back as if my words surprised him, after everything that’s happened.
“I thought you were over the Valerie thing.”
“ Over it? How would I be over it? We never spoke, and you shipped me off before we could. Then you left me there with no one while you just went on with your merry-little-fucking-life. And you just expect me to be okay?”
He sighs and rubs the scruff of his beard. “I didn’t know what to say. A lot was going on.”
His sudden admission catches me off guard, and all I can do is stare at him. “So you decided to send me away? How does that make sense? We all have shit going on, Ambrose; it’s how you deal with it. That’s something you always told me.”
“Because I felt threatened by you, for fuck’s sake. You’re like this fucking perfect version of me, and every time I look at you, I see everything I’m not!” he yells exasperated.
What?
“What?” I echo my thoughts out loud.
“You heard me. Don’t make me say it again. You’re perfect. You had good grades. Papá always told me I needed to work harder like you, and that I should be ashamed that my younger brother is achieving more than me. Your reputation is pristine, everyone fucking loves you, and you don’t even try. Fuck, Valerie was more worried about you than she was about me, and I couldn’t fucking take it, okay?”
He stares at me with wide eyes, and I feel like my entire world is spinning. Like everything I’ve ever thought is untrue. Unless this is.
“You’re lying.”
“Antonio,” Theresa’s voice says softly. My head spins in her direction, so surprised to see her out here.
“Uhm, they want to do the garter and bouquet toss,” she says, her eyes moving to Ambrose and then back to me. They search for mine, and I don’t know why, but I feel so exposed at this moment.
I clear my throat and break eye contact. “I’ll be right there,” I say, and she nods before slipping inside.
“We can talk about this later,” Ambrose offers, gesturing for me to head inside.
I open and close my mouth repeatedly. So many things I want to say, but none of the words are forming on my tongue. So all I can do is nod and turn to head inside.
“For the record, the two of you look natural together.”
It’s not at all what I thought he was going to say. I thought he would try to defend what he said, to try and convince me it is the truth. But somehow, this is worse. Because he’s leaving me to believe whatever I want.
Natural is worse than good. Natural feels real, and this can’t be real.