Chapter 1
Chapter
One
Friday Night
Next week at this time, I’ll be on some magnificent island on a honeymoon with a man I do not love and forced to bed. This is not the night before my wedding I dreamed about.
I sit on the shower floor, letting the water rain down on me so that I can’t feel the tears.
I know my family duties. I understand the responsibilities I have to help the alliances formed through these types of arranged marriages, but what I don’t understand is why me?
I’m not even really Alfonso Torelli’s heir.
He doesn’t have one, which makes my situation even worse. I’m the one person he chose to give his name to. Which means I’m the golden goose and everyone wants my fucking eggs.
Literally.
I’m expected to pump out babies the second I open my legs, and of course, it has to be for the right man or else I’m used goods. Any child I have branded a bastard, and I become a useless woman like any other non-mafia one.
I sigh and stand. I’ve been in this shower for so long that I look like a raisin, and the water is starting to get so cold that it hurts.
I wrap myself in a robe and sit to blow out my hair. Not that it matters. Tomorrow morning, an army of hairdressers and stylists will arrive to remake me into the perfect mafia bride.
My phone rings, and I smile as I see a photo of my cousin Valentine light up the screen. She’s my best friend and closer than any sister I could have had.
“Where are you?” I hiss as I put her on speaker.
“Bitch, I had to stop for supplies. I’m coming up now. Come open your door.” I can hear the echo as she approaches my bedroom door.
Her hands must be full cause no doors in Alfonso Torelli’s house lock from the inside. You have no privacy or secrets here unless he wants you to.
I rush over and open the door and gasp.
“What is all this?” I grab as many bags as I can.
“Your bachelorette party!” She bows on a noise maker she has pinched between her lips like a cigarette.
“I thought that was for happy brides.” I close the door once she’s inside.
She lets everything fall to the floor with a dramatic shake of her arms, then lets out a sigh before promptly falling backwards onto my couch.
“Fine. It’s your death to virginity party.” I cringe.
“Ew, no. Bachelorette party, it is.” She lifts her arm and presses the button on her smartwatch.
“Cancel the cherry vagina cup cakes.” I shake my head at her and glance at all the bags.
“Val, who are all these party favors for? It’s just us.” I pull out a blow-up doll with a cock ring, throw game.
“What the fuck?” I laugh at all her choices.
“I figured if you have to suffer through the marriage, the least these bastards can do is suffer through the party. I’m decorating the entire mansion.” She lets out an evil laugh and kicks her legs in the air.
“Oh god. Is this going to be a repeat of my thirtieth birthday?” The memory floods my mind, and I smile.
I had been fresh out of chemo and officially in remission.
No one was stopping her from throwing me my first birthday party.
Alfie let her turn our staircase into a slide, just like in the movie The Princess Diaries.
We mattress surfed until we broke the grandfather clock and got so hopped up on sugar we didn’t sleep for two days.
“WORSE! Because now we have booze!” She dives for a bag near my feet and pulls out two huge bottles of champagne.
“Relax, you’re bridesmaids will be here soon, so it’ll feel like a real party.” I frown.
“I have bridesmaids?” I hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with the wedding planning.
Other than picking the dress and agreeing to attend the fucking thing, I was completely oblivious.
“Yes, apparently your soon-to-be husband has a sister and cousins who volunteered. As your maid of dishonor, I took the liberty of inviting them tonight. We can get them drunk and see who the real bitches are.” I shake my head, but can’t help but laugh at how truly diabolical Val can be.
“Have you seen him?” I cringe at the thought.
“Yup, he’s handsome. But he’s a fucking asshole. You’re gonna hate me. You’ll make cute babies, though.” I slap her arm.
We’ve joked about it for years, but now that it’s here, it doesn’t seem all that funny.
“Get dressed. You’re outfit is in the garment bag.” She grabs some bags and starts yelling for maids to help her on her way out.
I hang the bag in my walk-in closet and unzip it.
“Woozer,” I whistle at the tight form-fitting dress.
It’s stunning, but I have never ever dreamed of wearing something like this. It’s so not me, and I love it so fucking much. I pull it off the hanger and frown.
“How the fuck do you wear underwear with this?” I jump out of my skin when Val answers from behind me.
“You don’t. That’s the point. When you wear a dress like that, you’re making a statement.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Oh? And what statement is that? Throw me on the floor and fuck me?” She beams at me.
“Exactly! You learn quickly. Now drop the robe. I’ll help with your zipper.” I take a deep breath and do as she says.
Five minutes later, after a lot of pulling, tugging, twisting, and bitching about sucking it in, I’m in the damn dress that came with matching high heels. My hair has dried into perfect ringlet curls, and all I need is a little makeup to complete the look.
“Smokey eye, nude lip,” Val says as she escapes to check that her instructions are being followed to the letter.
I start applying the shadows, and I’m buffing them out when she returns.
“Wooo raccoon eyes, hold on.” She takes the brush from me and tilts my face.
“THERE!” She turns me to the mirror with a flourish.
“Damn, you were always so much better at that than I was.” She winks at me in the mirror.
“Practice makes perfect. Now come on. The strippers will be here any minute.” I gasp at her.
“WHAT STRIPPERS!”