Married to My Enemy

Mom approached me and smoothed the collar of my shirt. “Don’t listen to your father, dear. You look very handsome. Young Miss Marino is goi

ng to be a lucky girl.”

“Let’s just hope that I’m just as lucky,” I said.

Dad chuckled. “Oh, you are. I think you’ll be happy with this arrangement.”

I pursed my lips, not entirely sure if I trusted my father’s statement. He just wanted to secure our family ties with the Marino fortune; whether I and the Marino girl were actually compatible was something I doubted he cared much about.

“So, where are my dear brothers?” I asked, leaning against the dining room wall and folding my arms.

“They’re not coming,” Dad answered.

“What?” I said, unfolding my arms. “Why not?”

“Because she only needs to meet you for now. She doesn’t need to be overwhelmed with the whole family. You and your brothers are too much for strangers to take in all at once.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We just don’t want to overwhelm her, that’s all,” Mom interjected.

I raised an eyebrow. “Or you don’t want me to have competition with my brothers? Afraid that she’ll like them better?”

Mom slapped my arm. “Nonsense.”

“I think I hear a car door slamming,” Dad said, heading to the front of the house. He stopped abruptly and looked back, fixing me with his sternest gaze. I’d seen that gaze plenty of times before in my life. It was the gaze that could freeze boiling water. It was the stare that indicated playtime was over. “Gio, I cannot put into words how important this dinner is. This needs to go well. Understand?”

I nodded, not daring to make a smart retort. “Yes, Dad,” I said, feeling as if I was twelve years old again.

With a curt nod, he turned back around and disappeared from view right as the doorbell rang.

Standing at the dining room table, I gripped the chair before me, my heart pounding.

“It’s going to be fine, Gio,” my mother said, rubbing my shoulder as voices drifted through the house from the foyer. Our guests had arrived. It was time to meet my future wife.

Suddenly, at the most inopportune time, images of Ari popped into my head. I clenched my jaw, willing away the memory of her.

“Gio, sweetie,” Mom said, her voice a hasty whisper. “Come on, now. Get it together.”

It was at that moment that I knew I must have looked just as panic-stricken as I felt. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just…How do you respond to the fact that your future is literally walking through the door? What if she’s…What if I just don’t like her?”

“Hush!” Mom hissed, peering anxiously toward the front of the house. “Listen—go in the kitchen and get some water for the flowers. Go on! And when you come back out, you have to be over this little crisis you’re going through. Got it?”

I nodded and hurried off to the kitchen, almost breaking into a run as I heard footsteps drifting through the house. How I wished my brothers were here—nothing ever felt quite so serious when they were around. They would have at least helped distract me from the fact that I was about to give up my whole future for some woman that I didn’t even know.

As I pulled a pitcher from the kitchen cabinet, I heard my mother’s overly cheerful voice greeting our guests. They were just yards away. Mr. and Mrs. Marino—and their daughter, who if all went according to plan, would become the new Mrs. Romano…

I swallowed, gripping the pitcher so tightly, my hands ached.

Time was ticking, and the moment of truth had arrived.

I couldn’t stall in the kitchen forever.

So, taking a deep breath, I straightened my posture and headed out of the kitchen.

“There he is,” my father said jovially while simultaneously flashing me with his stern gaze before covering it with a broad smile.

My heart practically stopped in my chest, and the pitcher almost slipped from my hand.