Mafia Arranged Marriage

•08•

Aiyana Vasquez

Today was the day my last name is ought to be changed.

I woke up about 6:30 a.m by a dozen of maids and had been rushed to the bathroom where a hot bubbly bath was waiting for me.

After I got out, I was seated on a high uncomfortable chair facing the vanity table, while a bunch of makeup artists and hairstylists did their magic.

They were extremely professional and always asked for my opinion on things, which I'm hugely thankful for.

I opted for a more natural look, my hair lifted in a soft updo with some strands escaping, cascading freely on my bare shoulders.

I think it all went along well with the dress I picked out a few days ago.
It was a sweetheart neckline gown, with a flare from the mid waist down with neat embroidery giving it a spark to add to its ethereal feel.

It looked vintage and cheque which was totally the look I went for.

I haven't seen or contacted my soon to be husband since the announcement of our union, not that I bothered anyway.

After I've been readied to the best, I slip on my high heels and it's time to go to the church where the ceremonies are taking place.

On the drive there, I sit in the backseat, my father seated next to me. We didn't exchange any sort of conversation like a normal bride and dad.

He sat typing away at his phone, probably replying to few of his emails, while I scurried to the other end, trying to control my racing thoughts.

What was he like? All I heard were rumors about how ruthless of a killer he is. His no bullshit attitude that pours horror into anyone that dares defy him.

I take a look at my father's figure. He's still busy with his phone to spare me a glance and I've come to realize that this man whom I had his blood running through my veins is a stranger.

Ever since my mom died, he distanced himself. As if one look at me is a stinging reminder of what he had and lost.

Her death broke something between the two of us and I'm afraid what's broken can't be whole anymore.

My hand fidgets with the edge of the blade I kept tucked hidden to my inner thigh. A mere precaution in case my husband to be decided to start anything.

Upon reaching the church, I let my eyes wander around the all people present. Each dressed to their finest, expensive suits and extravagant gowns only.

I sigh, I'm at my own wedding and I don't recognize anyone here. I'm not dumb, I know everyone here has ties to the underworld, they looked too gruesome to be considered otherwise.

Ever since I was little, my mom did everything in her power to keep me tucked away from this cruel underworld.

That resulted in heated arguments between father and her sometimes, seeing I was an only child, the sole heir for his kingdom.

Nevertheless, I never allowed myself to be a burden. I was taught how to fire a gun properly, hand to hand combat, and how to handle a knife.

I was protected, but I certainly wasn't weak.

My days as a teenager passed in killer boredom as I wasn't permitted to go anywhere I wanted for obvious safety reasons.

That's when I would let out all the anger I held at this universe while throwing knives on a board.

I sucked at first, the knives hitting a wall or sometimes a vase too, accidentally.

But I urged myself to keep practicing, and now I can proudly say I have the precision of a surgeon.

Time ticks in a funky way. It's like the minutes won't pass, my eyes are trained like hawks on the clock hung on my dressing room's wall.

But, at the same time, I faintly remember how just a while ago it was 6:30 and I had just woken up to prepare for this dreadful day.

I sigh in desperation. I'm unaware of what's to come. I don't know what will life be like after I'm snatched away from the last sliver of freedom I had? What he will be like? Was he any different from Ivan? Or was he just another monster in disguise?

The clock strikes 12:00 p.m sharp and at my father's rushed knock on the door, I knew it was time to face my fate.

•••

A/n:

Drum rolls pleaseeeee....

For more updates
please vote and comment ❣️