Mafia Runaway Bride

MARA'S POV

They said a girl's happiest day was her wedding day because she felt prettiest and most confident but why did I not feel the gitters?

The sound of the trumpets and chatters from the guests could be heard from outside the door-- they were all waiting for me to walk in and get married to the man I love... or loved.

Was everything just an illusion?

The wedding dress felt really heavy and the flowers turned ugly at the mere thought of getting married to Ross Larkin.

Was this cold feet?

I was sure when I said yes to his proposal or did I do it because of my mom who wanted to keep the money in the family and she didn't think about how I felt before pushing me into this outrageous set up?

I did not want to go in there and be miserable for all my life but not getting married to Ross was me losing everything including my life but I had to escape and live by my rules.

I threw the flowers on the floor, the petals broke apart like something I promised would nothappen, then I ran.

The dress was heavy and slow, so I kicked off my shoes.

The cold floor made my feet freeze, the hallway went by fast. I saw shiny lights and doors moving quickly.

My mom's voice, telling me to be good, echoed in my head, but I pushed that thought away, just like I pushed away the memory of the bruises he had left on me for daring to question him.

The hall way went by so fast, way too fast but I stopped in front of a room to catch my breath when the bell mistakenly rang.

I jumped out of my skin, my heart skipping a beat when the door clicked open-- a man who had a snake tattoo on his chest and was dripping wet-- must have just gotten out of the shower.

I stood there as if I forgot to breathe not because of him but because loud noises could be heard from down the hallway, and I knew I was in danger.

I pushed past the stranger and ran inside his room then slipped behind his door.

"What the heck?" he said loudly, his voice was rough.

"Hide... please hide me. Just for a little while, then I'll go," I said as my voice shook.

He shot me a sharp look that I couldn't tell if he was confused or surprised, but he shut the door and turned to his room and I followed suit.

The room was messy with whiskey bottles on the table and cigarettes butt all over in a dish. He rubbed his wet hair with his hand and looked at me closely.

"You're going to cause a lot of trouble for me,"

"I won't stay long," I begged, twisting the lace on my dress. "Just help me."

His eyes wandered all over my body-- my dress, my scattered hair and my bare feet, making me feel naked.

"Okay," he said quietly, moving back. "Be quiet."

I felt relieved, but my legs were shaky. "I need clothes, too. I can't go out like this." The dress was like Ross's prison, made with his rules.

He smiled in a teasing way and stepped closer, his eyes raking me then stopping at the tearing in my dress near my thigh.

"What, do you want me to take off my towel? Put on a show?" His voice was low and a little bit bad, and my skin felt hot, I couldn't stop it.

"Just clothes," I said quickly, putting my arms across my chest to hide the hot feeling on my neck.

He let out a rough and teasing laugh and then grabbed gray shirt and black trousers from a bag. "Bathroom's over there." He threw them to me, still looking at me in a serious way. "Unless you want to change right here. I don't care."

I held the clothes tightly, my face felt hot. "No thanks," I mumbled and ran to the bathroom, locking the door.

The mirror showed someone I did not know- I was pale, my eyes were red, and I had bruises on my ribs, arms and legs.

I felt pain as I took off the dress, the cloth caught on my sore skin.

My mom's voice came into my head: A good wife just deals with it, Mara. Do not fight back.

I wanted to yell, break the mirror, and make that voice go away.

I was not going back, not to him, not to that life.

I put on the clothes, the shirt was big, and the pants were soft, they smelled like leather and smoke.

My body felt a strange feeling- bad kind of wanting that was low in my stomach.

I was still changing, pulling the shirt over my head, when I heard a voice through the door, my heart stopped.

"Luca, you weasel!" Ross's voice boomed, warm and familiar, like they were buddies. "Didn't think you'd skip the racetrack for my big day."

"Ross, you old rascal," the stranger-Luca replied, his voice light. I heard a clap of hands and their easy laughter, like old friends. "Are you okay, buddy? You look terrible. What's wrong?"

Ross sighed dramatically, his voice breaking just enough to sound believable. "It's Mara. My bride's gone, Luca. She ran off before the ceremony, and I'm heartbroken, man. I love her, and she humiliated me, disappeared like I'm nothing."

His pain was a lie, a performance for sympathy, but it would fool anyone who didn't know his fists, his control.

I froze, shirt half on, hands shaking, pressed against the bathroom door.

Ross was right outside, telling his story, and I was trapped.

My heart beat really fast, fear choking me.

Luca knew I was here, but would he tell on me?

Luca's voice came, it was calm, like he was bored. "She's in the bathroom."

just