Forty-Five
Walking through the main room, you couldn’t take the smile off my face if you paid me. My woman didn’t have to take the test for us to know the truth. For now, that was okay with me. I wanted to give her everything she wanted, and if that meant going to a doctor so she could have the experience of it, then that’s what we’ll do. What made my smile faultless was that they agreed to marry my ass. I’m one happy motherfucker. And regardless of how pissed and annoyed my best friend and Prez are, I don’t give a shit because I’m on cloud fucking nine.
Being summoned to the chapel, I already know what this is about. I walk into the room with a smile and my woman's hand in mine. Savvy’s eyes haven’t left us since we entered the room. Her assessing eyes take me and Bellamy in. With a smirk, I lift my woman's hand and kiss it, which has her seeing precisely what has the smile on my face.
Most men would ask their bride-to-be’s father for their hand, but I’m not most men, and I’m not stupid. A few days ago, I pulled Blaze aside and talked to him about my intentions with his sister. His response was not one I expected, but I went with it. Chuckling, he pulled out his phone and called his mother, and as I did with him, I told her the truth. I told her that Bellamy was my entire world and would love, honor, and cherish her. I explained I understood she was unlike anyone else in my life. And I accepted and appreciated that she had a life of her own. I understood who she was and what she was, and I would never hold her back, only love and support her. I’d be her solace and her strength, her friend and protector. And then I asked permission to make her my wife; after a bit of ribbing, Savvy and Blaze gave me their permission and here we are. Savvy gives me a nod and a wink. Mission fucking accomplished.
Like before, I take a seat to the right of my dickhead of a president, with my woman taking her seat to my right. Our hands remain connected and rest on the top of the rectangular table. Prez’s eyes trail from mine to our connected hands. A flash of recognition has his lips tightened and eyes narrowing. With a nod of understanding, his eyes leave our hands and trail to Bellamy's face, which is in its normal I don’t give a fuck mask. I chuckle, which has her looking over at me and giving me a wink. Prez’s eyes remain on her when she turns back to him. He gives her an understanding nod and a sad smile, but remains silent. He knows he fucked up again, him and that mouth of his. That is a problem for another time. We have shit to take care of and his wayward daughter to rescue.
Blaze leans against the wall like a sentinel watching over his mother and sister. In front of him, his eyes are on his sister. She looks at him and gives him a half smile, and he nods, understanding that she is okay. Bull and Vex seated to the left of Prez. My eyes take in my brothers surrounding us. Everyone is here except Rocket, Pain, Sin, and the Baroness. And my brows crease. I look up at Blaze, and he gives me a sly smile.
Prez slams the gavel down. “Blaze and Savvy filled me in on what was going on.” I was under the impression that they didn’t know all that was happening. My eyes trail to my woman, who smirks, telling me what she says is true. How, I don’t know, but they have worked together long enough. I’m not going to question how they do things.
“They have taken Princess to a hotel in town.” Prez tightens his fist on the table, and his eyes blaze as he continues, “They had a clergyman on his way to officiate the bullshit nuptials. Unfortunately for him, he met with an unfortunate incident that led to him being detained, gagged, and hogtied for his comfort, of course.” A few chuckles ring out in the room. “Bellamy’s people are working to get eyes in and around the room.” There are some grumbles from the brothers. I know why they’re annoyed. They wanted in on the action. Princess may be a pain in our asses, but she is still one of our own, and we protect ours even if she did this shit to herself.
Prez raises his hand to quiet the room. “I know we all want to be a part of this. We are a bunch of bulls in a china shop, and as explained to me, this situation is bigger than us.” He looks over to Savvy and then around the room. “This situation needs a level of finesse. They are in a hotel in the center of town filled with innocent civilians. As much as I hate it, and it grates on my motherfucking nerves not to charge in with guns blazing. Bellamy already has a team and all the resources needed to make this quietly bloody.” Prez chuckles. “They also have a few things that they need to handle.” Prez looks at Savvy, who gives him a blank stare, and then at Blaze, who also gives him a blank stare. Shaking his head, he continues,
“Blaze, are you connected to the team?” Blaze stares at his father for a minute and nods. He walks over to the open computer and presses a few buttons. I remember them talking about the upgrades they did in this room, and I didn’t see any of it until now. A large flat screen retracts from the ceiling, surprising the fuck out of me and a few of my brothers. We all watch on as several mini-feeds flicker on the screen. One shows a guy, who I assume is the clergyman, knocked out, gagged, and hogged-tied. The others are at the hotel entrance, the parking lot, a room window, and halls and doors. I’m assuming one of those doors is where Princess is located.
As Prez is about to say something, three SUVs pull up to the entrance, and men in suits step out. I didn’t know until this moment what Marco Rossi looked like. It’s immediately apparent who he is in the crowd of suit-clad men. He has an air of arrogance with his slicked-back hair, rugged features and cocky smirk. The cameras pan and follow the men as they make their way through the hotel. As the group reaches their destination, a door to the room across them opens, and a man who looks eerily familiar greets them. The shock on their faces is unmistakable. When the newcomer approaches them, he gestures to the room they intend to enter. They hesitate, saying a few words in what I assume to be Italian, but after another few clipped words from the newcomer, they enter the room. Our attention changes to another screen.
Bellamy huffs, and her head whips around to look at her mother who sits with a smug smirk and mischief in her eyes. I’m so fucking confused. Looking at Prez, I see I’m not the only one.
“You. When the hell did he get into town, and how come no one told me? And why is he there? And did she come with him? And…”
“Watch?” is all her mother says.
We hear a crackle, and everyone's focus returns to the screen.
“Marco Rossi, you, my friend, did not heed my warning. I explicitly told you not to come here. I told you that the club and that girl were under my protection. Did I not?” All we hear for a moment is a voice. It is deep and controlled and holds an air about it. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I'm not that guy. But that voice promises fucking death.
“Now… now, Don Barone, you know how it is. I was owed a bride, and she was being difficult, rather her father was. Did you know he has been consorting with the Widow Maker? I think that woman would be an excellent asset in my corner…” The smugness in his voice makes me want to reach through the screen and ring the slimy little fucker's neck.
“…That thought alone drove me to come personally to collect my bride. One can never have too many allies, alliances, and assassins.” He chuckles at his wailed threat.
“Wait, what? You told me… Mother, you said…”
Smack!
“Quiet, Paisley. You will need to learn to be a quiet and dutiful wife. Be seen and not heard, be beautiful and unattainable to everyone but your husband,” a voice I know to be Beverly’s hisses.
Ignoring the voices of the two women, the voice I know now belongs to Don Barone continues, “Did you know that the Widow Maker is a close, personal family friend of mine and is not someone that can or would be swayed by sentimental things such as a girl that shares no blood, especially one that is such a disrespectful little tart?” Barone says.
“Excuse me, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not a tart. I’m the future wife of a powerful Don, and I will not be spoken to or about as if I’m not in the room,” Princess hisses.
For fuck's sake.
Bellamy puts her head in her hands and murmurs, “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” quietly to herself.
A throat clears, and I tune back into the show because this is a damn show; Prez wasn’t wrong. We would have gone in guns blazing, and shit would have probably landed a few of us behind bars or dead.
“Don Barone, my name is Beverly Ferrari, and I’m Paisley's mother. I arranged this match.” Beverly clears her throat again, loudly. “It would have happened sooner if her father and that woman hadn’t gotten involved. My husband and I are distraught at how they have tried to divide our families and cause strife. As you can see, my daughter is more than willing to marry Marco of her own free will, and that is all that I want for my daughter. I want her to have the life she deserves, respect, and the station she was born into.” Beverly spouts off, attempting to sound demure and not like the slimy cunt that she is.
There are a series of groans, snorts, and curses from the brothers as they listen to the shit she is spitting.
“Is that right? So you and Marco didn’t lie to this girl. You didn’t manipulate or fill her head with the false hope of a lavish life filled with choices.” The long curtain that spans what I am assuming is the wall in the room opens, and the camera pans in to see that a large, suited man is standing in front of a window. It’s the newcomer from the hall. Princess’ dumb ass stands next to Marco, and Beverly is next to her weasel of a husband sitting smugly in a wing-back chair. “Interesting.” Barone runs his hand over his chin in thought.
“Of course not, I would never,” Beverly sputters. I can hear how scandalized she’s pretending to be. Her dainty hand goes to her chest, and her face looks offended.
“Marco, send your guards away for a late dinner.” Barone turns from the window, looking at Marco, whose face becomes thunderous. He does not like being told what to do. “Please.” I can hear the smile in Barone's voice, but I can't see it. Barone stands with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting patiently for his order to be followed. A few moments pass. Marco lifts his hands, and the men stationed throughout the room exit.
“Now, let's try this again, shall we? You tell me this young woman is here of her own free will. After receiving all the information available about her contract and the type of person her intended to be is. You are telling me she is happy to become the wife of a man with a history of violence…”
Laughter cuts Barone off from Beverly, who flicks fake tears of amusement from her eyes. “Oh, my. Don Barone, truly. The pot calling the kettle black. All the men in this life have a penchant for violence. It is a part of our world. My daughter grew up in a filthy motorcycle club filled with brutes and violent men. Violence is not something that would stop her from marrying a man such as Marco Rossi.” she says smugly. The tension in the room skyrockets, but the brothers hold their tongues. This hoity-toity shit is like watching a damn movie. The back and forth, I dare say, is intriguing. I chuckle at myself at the fuckery in my head right now. Fucking intriguing.
Shaking his head. “Abusing and putting his lovers in the hospital? Wasn’t your most recent lover the Prime Minister of Italy's daughter? That poor girl still has not been located. Has she, Marco?” He pauses, awaiting a response to his questions. No answer comes. Watching Marco’s face redden and his fist clench angrily makes me smile. Got ‘em.
Barone turns his back to them, looking out the window. His lips twitch as he winks at the camera.
“No matter.” He turns back around. “Miss Church said yes! Without coercion or falsehoods.” He pauses and hums. “So she knows he is being investigated for more than one previous lover's disappearance.” He continues, I am unsure if he received a response because he is now blocking Marco from our view.
“Good, good. She also knows that she is taking your place in the contract because you loathe Dominique Rossi, Marco’s father, so much that twenty years ago, you seduced and tricked a man into impregnating you, which caused your family to force that man to marry you. After all, you didn’t want the match with young Don Rossi's father. You knew the life you would lead would be filled with misery and violence toward you. You knew you would be controlled, not the one in control.” He stares at Beverly, whose mouth is agape. “So, you are telling me you told this young woman that the people are helping to protect her and prevent this...” he waves his hand, “…would not harm her or her father’s club, but wanted to right a wrong. Or did you lie? Telling her they were jealous, petty, and bitter, looking for revenge? If so, I would say that your daughter did not, in fact, receive all the truths you have sworn she has.” Barone looks down at his watch and nods slightly.
And then shit gets real.