Chapter 2 Marriage

Elena

The radio blared again with the annoying Christmas "Jingle Bells" song. Seriously...do they even go on break? I held my head in my hands, and my half-opened eyes adjusted to the room's light. I stood up from my bed and walked toward the window. The merry cheers from neighbours singing along to Christmas tunes filled the air.The Christmas lights shimmered down the streets, and every household had a snowman in front of their houses.

God, how I hate Christmas. It's that time of the year when people pretend they love you and want to share. So pathetic. I had officially nicknamed myself the Grinch, but all that fairytale bullshit is of no use. I closed the drapes and headed for the door.

"She's finally awake. I thought you'd sleep throughout the day," Gianna, my cousin said as she passed me with the Christmas star in hand.

"I wish I could."

"Thank God you're awake. Nonna Caterina(our grandmother) has been looking for you everywhere. Nera is with her, and they are doing the baking-which you were supposed to do," Gianna said with a pointed look.

"I don't know why it's necessary to bake on Christmas."

"It is. Plus, Nera is happy about it."

"I know, and I'm doing the baking thing because of her."

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Yes yes. Now go and bake with your daughter."

I nodded and walked down the stairs, carefully ignoring the Christmas decorations on the railings. My family can be so big when it comes to celebrations. The Bianchi's-my family-are Italians. Growing up, parties were the norm. You see, Italians love to party, and when it comes to the holiday season, you can bet they'll turn it into one of their grand celebration.

"Mama!" My daughter, Nera, shrieked as she ran to me with flour filled hands before I got to the end of the stairs.

"Slow down, runner," I said, embracing her.

"I've been looking for you Mama. Nonna Caterina said I didn't get the gingerbread man right and I'd have to start over again! There are a lot, Mama!"

"Hmm, but you loved baking. Don't tell me my little Nera is giving up?" I teased.

"No way! But you promised you'd bake with us Mama."

"Yes, I will. Come on, let's go."

We walked to the kitchen. Nonna Caterina was mixing dough while Rosa, another cousin, chopped spinach for what I guessed was spinach sauce. Zina, my cousin, helped my mom with rice. Don't judge me, I suck at cooking, and I know it is a bad thing.

"Noona, Mama's gonna help us bake!" Nera said and rushed to where my Noona stood.

"Oh goody, the witch finally arrives."

"Ha-ha Noona." I said and joined in the baking. Noona Caterina has always had a sharp mouth. We lost my grandfather years ago and you'd think she would mourn him forever, but she's been dating younger men since then. In her defence, my grandfather would be proud of her.

She's on boyfriend number nine now.

"We're having guests today," Mom said. My mother, Rina Bianchi, was a quiet woman. She was American and fell in love with an Italian. She didn't understand how the Italian mafia worked at that time.

But over the years and after Dad's death, she got used to the Family. Mom had only two children-me and my elder brother Angelo. We were born in the States unlike my cousins, Gianna, Rosa, Zina, and the rest of the family. When I got married, I left Jacksons for Boston but; after my divorce four years ago, I relocated back here. Jacksons was more like a home and I needed a fresh start.

"Don't we always have guests?"

"No...Today is important. Your Uncle's have something to address."

A month ago, some members of the Family moved here. It was strange for such a sudden change but it was respected. I suspected a marriage of some sort. A husband for Rosa since everyone has been talking about it. Plus, my cousins Gianna and Rosa were single, Zina was still seventeen.

"Oh...looks like someone's getting engaged," I teased Rosa as I wiggled my brows.

"Please, look your best today and smile?" Mom asked me.

"Don't I always smile?"

"You know what I mean, please."

I nodded. No one sees me as an open book quite like my mother does. I love her but sometimes I'd prefer to be left alone. I was unhappy and mom knew it. After what happened with my ex-husband, everyday felt more like a struggle for survival. Portraying the good and happy daughter kept them from questioning if I was okay.

Of course I'm okay.

I'm fine. I may be inconsequential at times, but I'm fine, and I'll give my best smile today.

After the cooking, the tables were all set by the servants. My uncle's Ronan, Tomasso, Matteo, and Francesco sat at one end of the table while everyone else took their respective seats. The air around was stoic and heavy; knowing my family-I sensed there was some big announcement coming up. Everyone focused on their meals, only the sound of plates filled the deafening silence in the room.

A man walked in and sat beside Uncle Francesco. I had seen him before, mom said he was a big partner to us.

"Elena-have you been well? Rina told me you work. What do you do dear?" Uncle Francesco asked.

"Yes, I work in an animal shelter."

Working in an animal shelter has given me both flexibility and peace of mind. I love animals and their presence helps distract me from my Ptsd.

"Animal shelter? What good is that?" Francesco scoffed. Uncle Francesco was a prude; he never smiled and took over after Dad's death two years ago.

"You've been divorced for some time now, and the family is worried," Uncle Tomasso said.

"I'm fine, no one needs to worry about me."

"You are a woman in your prime. You need to get married. Unfortunately, no friends of the family want a divorcee-so your only reasonable option is to give you to someone who wants you." Francesco stated.

What do they mean? There's no way I'll get married again-especially not through Cosa Nostra arrangements.

"What are you saying?"

"What I am saying is, you've arranged to marry this man." He gestured towards the man beside him. " This is Russo Santoro, and he is willing to have you as a wife."

The room felt like it was spinning as I processed what just came out of his mouth.

An arranged marriage? My gaze shifted to the man that sat beside him-Russo Santoro. His gaze met mine, with blue eyes so cold. A scar ran from his lip to his chin-slightly covered by his goatee. He looked older than I was. His demeanor filled the air with tension, it was clear he wasn't much of a talker either.

I've always wondered what it would feel like to be arranged to marry someone-a perfect Cosa Nostra tradition I've run from all these years.

"Elena!" My uncle snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Have I made myself clear? The family has agreed to this arrangement-you will be getting married to him. Besides," he added ominously, "what other option do you have?"