Married to My Enemy

It pained me to think it, but I just couldn’t help feeling that all my years of dedication to the sorry excuse of a man I called my father had all been in vain. I even wondered if he had truly even wanted a family to begin with, or if he had just wanted kids for the sole purpose of having ready-made employees responsible for putting more money in his pockets.

I pulled up outside of the nightclub, seeing that there was a large crowd tonight. For a moment, I just stared at the entrance, wondering if I really wanted to go inside, or if I should keep driving to find a smaller, quieter, less rowdy pub to have a few drinks in peace and solitude.

I turned off my car engine and decided to go inside. A larger and noisier crowd would serve me better regarding taking my mind off my father and Arianna. Besides, if the crowd became too much for me, I could always request my private room for some time alone.

Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea either, considering that room now had some very distinct memories of Arianna tied to it; I wasn’t sure I wanted to relive those particular memories after the way she had ripped my heart out and stomped on it without explanation.

Maybe you had it coming, Gio, a voice in my head said. Perhaps all the years of being a self-defined playboy had caught up to me, and I was bound to find a woman who would teach me the error of my ways.

I headed straight to the bar once I got in, walking right to the front of the line, to the dismay of customers who’d been waiting patiently.

“Hey! You can’t just cut the line like that!” some guy yelled at me.

I snarled and flipped him off. The guy, along with a few others, proceeded to call me all sorts of names. Noticing the outrage and commotion, the bartender came over. “Is there a problem over here?” he asked.

“Yes!” several people hollered, pointing at me.

I nodded at the bartender. “My name is Giovanni Romano. Give me my usual spot, and keep the beers rolling,” I said, and then tossed a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill at him.

His eyes bulged for a second. “Yes, sir. Certainly,” he said, although I had already turned my back to claim my favorite table.

I settled into my seat, and my first beer arrived shortly after that. I almost chugged it all in one swallow.

After the third beer, I began to think coming there was a mistake. The beer wasn’t doing anything to improve my mood. I had been hoping it, along with the music, would have a numbing effect on me, but that proved to not be the case. Instead, I was starting to feel more and more solemn, and the thoughts I felt toward my father were just growing more bitter by the second. I contemplated ordering something stronger than beer but knew that wouldn’t be reasonable considering I needed to drive home. Sitting at the table, I felt that I had essentially placed myself in a trap.

Way to go, Gio.

The people laughing, dancing, drinking, and flirting around the club all seemed to be mocking me. I stared at them, envious of everyone who wasn’t going through what I was going through. I regretted not being the same man I’d been just weeks before all these problems arose. If only I could turn back the hands of time, I would make it so that I had never agreed to marry anyone. I would make it so that I had never even met Arianna Marino.

Yet, even as the thoughts drifted through my head, I knew they weren’t true because as angry as I felt toward Arianna, I knew the anger was directly in response to how much I still cared for her. If I didn’t still care, I wouldn’t have been feeling like I was falling to pieces. If I didn’t care for her, I would have been relieved that our engagement had been broken, no matter what my father felt over the matter. If I didn’t still care, I would have just moved on to the next woman…

I was pissed because I still cared. And I was also pissed because I hated feeling as if I didn’t have control over what was going on around me. I hated how much Luca controlled my life, and how he could literally flip it upside down and back again with just a few words.

Another beer was delivered to my table, and I began to feel that I had officially had enough when I glanced out on the dance floor and saw someone who was the spitting image of Arianna.

What were the chances that she and I just happened to be at the same nightclub again? It just couldn’t be.

Yet, the more I stared, the more convinced I became that it was her. Again. After a while, there was simply no denying it. This time, however, she wasn’t just with a girlfriend.

The blood in my veins felt like it was literally boiling as I stared at Arianna dancing with some guy who had his hands all over her. He was tall and good-looking, with blond hair and greed in his eyes.

The main problem though, was that he wasn’t me.

Unable to stop myself, I slammed my beer on the table and in a flash, I headed for the dance floor. I pushed passed people, not at all caring about the scandalized expressions they threw my way. When I came to a stop, I stood directly behind the guy. Neither he nor Arianna had noticed my presence.

I reached out and gripped the guy’s shoulder, squeezing it with all my might.

“Oww!” he hollered in surprise and spun around to face me. He looked at me, confused. “What the hell, man?”

He shoved my hand away from him.

My eyes locked with Arianna. Her eyes became wide circles. “G-Gio?” she stuttered.

“Surprise, surprise,” I said with a sneer and then turned my focus back to the guy. “Back the hell away from her, and keep your hands to yourself.”

Taken aback, he glanced at Arianna. “Do you know this guy?”

She folded her arms. “Not anymore, if I can help it.”