Page 8 of Fatal Sloth
“I've been in talks with a few families. There are a few young ladies who know our lifestyle and would make a perfect wife and mother.” His expression softens, pausing like he's reminiscing. Clearing his throat, he schools his face and shuffles the papers around on his desk while I reel in my thoughts.
My mind whirls in overdrive, the burden of this proposal sinking in. "So, you’ve been thinking of this for a while? And let's not get ahead of ourselves with the kid talk just yet, huh?"
Dad nods. “You need a suitable match, Sebastiano. A union that would strengthen our ties.”
Uncertainty floods my mind. “And what if I don't agree?”
“It's not an agreement. It's your responsibility. Think about it, son. The Morelli name carries weight. And if you disagree, you know what comes next.”
I clench my fists, still hesitant.
The atmosphere crackles with tension as I meet my dad's gaze head-on, determined not to bow under this marriage ruse, but I know he’s serious. “I’ll consider it. But if and when I agree, it’ll be on my terms.”
“Well, let’s heat them,” he says.
“You said you had a few selected, but I want to make the final decision. And I want a long engagement, at least a year. Being engaged should be enough to show I’m serious. I don’t need to rush down the aisle.”
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Yes,” I respond, embracing this thoroughly fucked up situation. “I want the title passed to me within a month after the announcement, and no talk about kids or hoops I need to jump through. I get married first, and then maybe we can discuss adding a few brats to the mix."
Dad nods, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. At least one of us is happy about this.
God, I could really use a drink right now. I don't usually start this early, but what the hell, right? I understand that marriage will show a willingness to embrace responsibility, but the prospect comes with its own set of challenges and uncertainties.
I hope he has good taste in women, both for the sake of preserving the revered Morelli famiglia legacy and for my own sake.
“Anything else you want to throw on me so early in the morning, Dad?” I ask sarcastically.
“No more games, Sebastiano. Tomorrow, brunch at the house, 11 a.m. sharp. We'll finalize this. And if you show up on time tomorrow, I’ll forget you were late today,” he responds, sensing my tone.
I'm conflicted, but I know what needs to be done. I nod, and he signals the discussion is over—for now, at least. Impenetrable tension fills the room. I stand to leave quickly before any more bombs are thrown at me.
At least I have tonight to let loose and forget this shit-show of a conversation.
6
Mia
I've been home for three days, and this is the first time I've left the house. It’s not my usual Friday night. Normally, I’m at home binging trash TV or engrossed in my newest book. But tonight is different. Here I am, sitting at the end of Cameron’s bed, staring at the daring outfit he picked out for me to wear. Cameron’s always been fashion-forward, so I trust his opinion, but this dress leaves little to the imagination and will barely cover my parts. He claims his inspiration came from the movie Pretty Woman- after she meets Edward.
As Cameron does my makeup, giving me a smokey eye with winged liner and topping off the look with a matte red lip stain, I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. I tousle the waves of my golden hair, gently breaking apart the curls before setting it with hairspray. After hair and makeup, I slip into the silver mini-dress Cameron picked out. It sparkles beautifully on my body when I move, but the waist cut-out and cold-shoulder style leave me feeling a little exposed as I turn in front of the mirror. He tosses a pair of black stilettos my way, commenting, “Babe, no guy will be able to resist you looking this good.”
He slips his phone into the front pocket of his black skinny jeans, the denim hugging his muscly frame snugly. With a quick adjustment of the collar of his black matching button-down, he completes his look, his fashion sense evident even in the most minor details.
He undeniably has the boy next door look, that is, until he applies a light dusting of sparkles under his eyes and a little gloss to complete his look.
“I’m still not sure how you managed to talk me into this,” I mutter.
Cameron, my forever fearless accomplice, practically dragged me out of my room tonight, whispering promises of a legendary night out.I hesitated at first, fearful of the consequences of being caught by Dad or Karen, but the sparkle of mischief in Cameron's eyes proved irresistible.
I watch him smile at me through the mirror as he gives himself a final look over. “Time to live a little, Babe! Besides, it’s just one night.”
“But lying to my wardens? I’ll be toast if they find out." I breathe. “How did you convince Liam and Julio to not tell on me?” I ask.
“That’s for me to know,” he says before winking at me. “Consider this a pre-wedding, wedding present. Besides, you need a little rebellion before your arrangement is finalized. I promise you'll thank me one day.”
The concept of arranged marriages has been ingrained in me since childhood, a part of growing up in an Italian household. It's a tradition that's deeply rooted in our culture, and for me, it's always been a reality of my future. While some may find it unsettling, even oppressive, it's simply a way of life that I've come to accept. However, I can't ignore Cameron's discomfort with the idea. Despite his attempts to mask it, I can sense the unease in his eyes whenever the topic arises.
