To Marry A Monster

The first time I got married, my husband got shot at the altar.

And the first time was now, and he had pushed me behind the altar, then disappeared from my view.

It all began at 10:15 am, and it would've started by 10 am on the dot had I not decided to piss off my soon to be husband and maids by deciding I wanted to go use the toilet immediately after I had been helped into my wedding gown. But I still made it on time, and I stood at the back of the cathedral, wearing a white off-shoulder custom-made Hany el Behairy dress bejeweled with precious jewels like pearls and diamonds. A dress that most definitely cost more than my future, an expensive luxurious dress that I wore to just show off how wealthy and powerful my husband was, not to actually beautify me.

The aisle stretched out, and I limped slowly across, alone, because I knew no one and had no family here to accompany me. Guests turned to look at me, but most of them weren't even smiling. They were just watching. Wondering why I was walking like I had a peg leg on my wedding day.

I wouldn't blame them. A mafia marriage wasn't really about love, it was more about power. Territory. Maintaining an image.

My future husband stood at the altar-Dante Valenti, the most powerful and most ruthless Don in all of Vegas- wearing a black suit. With his face straight as if set in stone and with eyes that looked like they hadn't known warmth since birth. He didn't even blink or acknowledge me as I reached the altar. Lucrezia, the maid of honor was standing at the altar, and she supported me as I tried to climb the steps up, so I wouldn't trip over. Dante didn't even care, he just had the same expression he'd always had, the one of bored superiority.

Immediately I stood facing Dante, the priest started quickly as if he had foreshadowed what was to come. He skipped the vows and all the romantic stuff, because it was obvious none of us would mean anything we said.

"Do you, Dante Valenti, take her to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

He didn't hesitate.

"I do."

Liar.

The priest turned to me and asked me the same question. I waited a bit too long to answer because I hated this man. With all my soul. All my heart. I wanted to say no, I wanted to scream get me out of here and take of my heels and run out of the cathedral.

But I didn't.

"I do," I said, bitterness lacing my words.

The Priest then declared us husband and wife and Dante leaned in to kiss me.

That was when the glass shattered.

The stained glass windows behind us exploded, sending glass shards flying everywhere into the air. Before I could even process what was going on, men in black were dropping from the ceiling, people were screaming, with some of them running or ducking for cover. But the noise that somewhat jerked me back to reality was a gunshot which rang out loud and clear, and next thing I knew, the white of Dante's shirt began turning red. Dante's shoulder jerked back under the impact of the bullet, but he immediately pushed me behind the pew.

"Stay low." He hissed at me, raising up my legs and tucking them sideways, so as to hide them from sticking out from the side. I was still in shock and couldn't even properly process what was going on, or understand why some patches of my dress turned red after Dante touched me. Dante turned away and pulled out a gun, then ran away, disappearing from my sight. Behind the altar, all I could think about was how I was going to die before my twenty-second birthday, all because I was going to marry a man whom I didn't even want to. Who I hated.

Seconds passed, and I began to grow uneasy. Where was Dante? What was even going on? No, I must look and see what's going on. I mustered up the courage to peek out through the side, so in case I was next, I would say the Lord's Prayer before I died. Immediately I did that, a bullet whizzed in my direction, but it wasn't for me. A man was trying to run to the altar too, so he could hide with me but the shooters caught him. He slumped in front of me, his eyes still open, staring at me, and blood seeping from his mouth.

I screamed.

And that was how they found me.

a few days earlier...

What's the very first thing we should all know, but they never tell you about Las Vegas?

The heat when you step off the plane smacks you right in the face like a vendetta, as if the sun has a grudge against the you and the city. Surprisingly, I find comfort in it. It's all so warm, and as ironic as it sounds, homely, because it contrasts so deeply with the chill I've carried with me since leaving Italy.

I push my sunglasses higher up my nose as I step out of the cab in front of the Bellagio. This is where Adrian is staying for his so-called Wild Week of Fun. His words, not mine. Personally, I think it's just an excuse for him to drink overpriced cocktails, gamble away an obscene amount of money, and charm his way into the hearts of strangers before disappearing into the night. It's all very Adrian.

And yet, here I am, instead of going straight to college since landing in America, I'm about to go watch some strippers and hopefully play Russian Roulette with my childhood best friend.

Well, if he'd let me that is.

"Isla!"I hear someone yell as I take cover under the hotel's veranda from the scorching sun. Adrian's voice is unmistakable: loud, cheerful, and just a little bit smug. I barely have time to turn before he engulfs me in a bear hug, his cologne enveloping me. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, enjoying his scent and the familiarity that comes with it, and the way his presence feels like home.

"Adrian," I grin, playfully shoving him away. "You look surprisingly good for someone who is about to go slave his youth away at Stanford for a medical degree. "

He rolls his eyes at me before shooting me a lazy grin. "What can I say? Vegas brings out the best in me. But forget about me, you made it!"

"Of course, I did. Free vacation, remember?" I tease, adjusting the strap of my duffel bag.

"Please, I know you're just here to keep me out of trouble."

I roll my eyes. If only he knew. But I don't correct him, just follow him inside, my sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floors.

We spend the next two days in a whirlwind of neon lights, rooftop bars, and impulsive decisions. Adrian somehow finds a way to make every second count, and I surprisingly find myself able to keep up with him. I try not to think about how this all has to end soon, and how I wish the summer would last forever.

But it won't.

Soon, I'll be packing my bags for Rhode Island and, heading to Brown on a scholarship that means more to me than anyone knows. A chance to escape, to reinvent myself, to build a life free from my family's past.

To escape and forget about all the bullshit my father managed to do before he gave up that measly life of his.

But if there's one thing I should say out of the multiple things I love about Adrian, it's how he never lets me wallow in my self pity for more than three seconds. That is, before he challenges me to a bet on who can convince the two drunk guys, whose wives had gone up to bed with the kids, down the hallway on the slot machines to marry at the drive thru wedding chapel as a prank.

I saunter over to one of the guys, while Adrian does to the other guy across the room. I stifle a giggle as the confused man looks up at me from the machine, his eyes glossy from a lack of sleep.

"How may I help you Miss?"

"Would you be interested, in an easier but a little bit weird way to make money?" I ask, trying hard to keep my face straight.

I explain to him the business model I and Adrian planned out for our prank, which we were definitely sure would not work, but somehow did, because an hour later we were taking photos as the Best Man and Chief Bridesmaid at the Little White Chapel with the newly married couple who had no idea they had actually really gotten married.

After our little wedding disaster, we head back to Adrian's hotel suite. Immediately I pass through the door, I flop down onto the sofa, groaning loudly.

"What's for dinner Mr Best Man?" I ask, taking off my earrings and sitting up to slouch against the sofa.

Adrian is leaning against the bar with, his sleeves rolled up and, his tie loosened. He looks like a walking cliché, the kind of guy to avoid in romance novels. He looks at me with a face so straight it's comical.

"Isla, you just ate like five minutes ago downstairs."

"Well that one's expired."

Adrian rolls his eyes at me, pouring a drink of water from a carafe into glass for me. He walks over and hands me the water.

"Dinner."

"You pauper." I scowl, but I still take it from him.

He rolls his eyes at me, and flops next to me on the sofa, lying down with his chin resting on my thighs.

"You know," I murmur, tracing the rim of my glass. "This week has been fun."

Adrian chuckles. "See? I told you. You need to let loose more."

"Meh. I'd still choose being a couch potato any day."

He flips around to probably glare at me and say something snappy back, but the air stills and he doesn't say anything. His eyes meet mine, something unreadable flickering behind them. I open my mouth to say something, anything really, just so I can make conversation. But Adrian doesn't let me. Before I can process anything Adrian sits up, taking the glass from my hand and kisses me. He pulls back, looking into my eyes for further consent, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in and I kiss him.

For a second, he kisses me back. His hands are on my waist, his lips soft against mine. It's everything I've ever dreamed of, everything I've secretly wanted since I was old enough to understand what love felt like.

And then, just as quickly, he pulls away.

"Isla." His voice is hoarse and his hands withdraw from my waist "This is a mistake."

A mistake.

Wow.

The word slams into me like a slap, and I feel the weight of it settle in my chest. Embarrassment creeps up my spine, and my cheeks flush red and hot.

"Right," I say, forcing a smile as I stand up from the sofa. "Of course. I-I should go."

"Isla, wait-"

I don't wait. I turn away sharply and put my heels on, trying to avoid eye contact.

I then grab my purse and head for the door, my vision blurring as I step into the hallway. The city outside is still alive, still awake with excitement. But inside, in the quiet of the hotel corridor, all I feel is the weight of a moment I can't take back.

A mistake.

This has to be the worst rejection I've had in my life.

I swallow hard and begin walking, eventhough I'm not sure where I'm walking to...as long as I can be away from Adrian.

I stormed out of the hotel lobby, my heels clicking against the pavement as I fought the sting of humiliation burning my cheeks.

Adrian ran after and was right behind me. "Isla, come on-"

I didn't stop walking. "Nope. Don't 'Isla' me."

He sighed, jogging a little to catch up. "Just listen. Please. You shouldn't be out here alone. It's past midnight, and this is...well, Vegas."

I scoffed, slowing down to make sure he heard me. "Oh, so now you care? Where was this concern when you suddenly decided to kiss me?"

He groaned. "That was a mistake."

I froze mid-step, my stomach twisting all over again. A mistake.

That's officially my least favorite phrase of the year.

I had suspected that would be his response, but hearing it still hurt.

I exhaled sharply and resumed walking faster. "Whatever. I'll just get a hotel room until my flight to Rhode Island."

Adrian grabbed my wrist, forcing me to stop. "You're being ridiculous. Just come back upstairs. Let's talk about this, Isla, please."

I spun around to glare at him, but couldn't, his face had softened, and he was staring at me pleadingly, in that way he knew I couldn't refuse. Tears began welling in my eyes, so I turned away, afraid he would see them and think I had the thought that I would actually come back with him.

I yanked my hand away. "There's nothing to talk about. I think you made yourself very clear."

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Isla, I like you. I really do. And I mean it...but then again, I don't want to ruin what we have."

I turned, stunned. "What?"

His expression was unreadable. "You're my best friend. I don't want to lose you over one stupid night."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "So kissing me would 'ruin everything,' huh? What does that even mean? Am I that horrid for you to fall in love with?"

He shook his head and frowned deeply. "That's not what I meant."

I crossed my arms, scowling. "Then explain it to me, Adrian. Because from where I'm standing, it just looks like you want to have your 'fun' but keep me at arm's length. Like you always do. Like I'm some fragile little thing you don't want to deal with. Or oh, one of your model girlfriends you fuck and only call when you want to again? But at least they get to date you Adrian, am I not pretty enough to date you?"

He sighed, stepping closer to me to cup my face in his hands and wipe a tear from my cheek I didn't even realise had begun falling.. "You're overthinking this Isla."

"Oh, of course, I am," I snapped my voice cracking. "Silly little Isla, always making things bigger than they are."

Adrian looked pained, but I was done. I was done pretending like my feelings for him weren't real, done letting him hold me at a distance like I wasn't worth anything.

"I'll make do with myself," I muttered, turning away again. "I don't need you to protect me."

I started walking faster, my heels clicking more aggressively against the pavement. The Vegas strip was alive with flashing neon lights and the distant thrum of music. Tourists stumbled down the sidewalks, their laughter and drunken conversations filling the air.

I should have felt safer in a crowd. But all of a sudden, I didn't.

A strange feeling crept up my spine, as if something was staring at the back of my neck. I swallowed hard and glanced over my shoulder.

Nothing. Just people, lights, music.

Then why did it feel like someone was watching me?

I shook my head. Get a grip, Isla. You're just a bit rattled.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right; it felt like a shadow just out of sight would grab me any second. I quickened my pace, and Adrian followed, still steps behind me.

"Isla, let me just-"

But before he could finish his sentence, an arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back into a dark alleyway.

I gasped, my scream muffled as a hand clamped over my mouth.

Adrian ran forward, but another man, dressed in black, grabbed him and shoved him into the alley too.

Panic surged through me. I kicked wildly, trying to twist free, but whoever held me was strong, too strong.

I clawed at his arm, my nails digging into his skin, but he didn't even flinch. I couldn't even breath well as I tried to fight, and then the man pressed a handkerchief onto my nose.

The handkerchief had a sickly sweet smell. Like disinfectant and jasmine.

No-no, no, no-

Chloroform.

I tried to break free, but my body was betraying me. My limbs went heavy. My vision blurred.

Through the haze that was beginning to cover my eyes, I caught a glimpse of Adrian struggling, still shouting my name, before someone struck him over the head.

I wanted to scream, but my voice wouldn't work.

Then, through the haze, a figure stepped forward.

Tall. Well-dressed. A sharp black suit that matched his black hair.

I could barely make out his face, but I saw the way he moved, with an air of authority that seemed to command the very ground he walked on.

A deep, velvety voice reached my ears, smooth and different, yet with accent oh so familiar.

"Ah, mia moglie."

Then everything went dark.