Once upon a f*****g time I got married. Stick around if you want to know how that shit turned out…“Matt, congratulations, brother. After today, you will finally fully take over the Battaglia Family. It’s what you’ve always wanted. You did it!” – Liam cheered me on just before we headed to the church. My staff had prepared everything, from the guest list to the venue, from the church to the flowers, from the wedding dress to the honeymoon. My mother oversaw them all making sure everything was just perfect.As for what I am concerned, a trip to the courthouse would have sufficed, and I know for sure my future wife Francesca Amato also didn’t care. Not that she was that eager to marry me that anything would do, as long as we got married. Quite the contrary actually. She just wanted to get it over with, and so did I.All my future wife-to-be had to do was show up, and that was the hardest thing in all this. I knew she would, but not out of her own desire. She clearly respected our culture’s traditions and rules. From what her uncle Enzo Amato, the Detroit Mob boss, had told me, she was a big part of their organization and operation. She was more active than he would wish and thrived even above his expectations. Out of respect for him, and The Commission’s decisions, she would be here today, and marry me, out of obligation alone.My brother Liam was my best man, standing beside me in front of all our guests waiting for Francesca to walk down that aisle, with her uncle beside her. It was supposed to be him here standing in my place today. He was hopelessly in love with someone else, and I offered to take his place, to make sure the peace between both our families was kept. It wasn’t as selfless as it sounds. I’m not a saint or even a good man. I agreed to this because something inside me pulled me towards this girl. Her sassiness and rebellious nature were both enticing and sexy as hell. She would never have accepted me if I asked, so I did the only thing I ever learned how to do.I took what I wanted.

Today was going to be my day.  The day I would finally get my dream job. The job I've been running after for about six months now, and that my father would so insistently remind me that I would never get. He had no faith in me and my capabilities and never failed to show me how much of a disappointment I was to him. Every time I got a new opportunity, he would always, but ALWAYS pull me down, and discourage me. So, this time I didn’t even tell him I got thru the first round of interviews at a very prestigious architectural firm. This way he couldn’t, so masterfully, point out all my insecurities, making me doubt my worth. This was like a little bomb that he would implant in my brain in the shape of a small, almost innocent, comment, that would tic louder and louder as minutes and hours went by, ultimately exploding making me fail or give up because I just wasn’t good enough.