For The Famiglia: Arranged Devotion (Complete)

Reception

The rest of the wedding was uneventful it only made me realise how much I hated formal functions and the obvious miserable future ahead for the now unhappy married couple. Marco held a fake smile which was more convincing than his wife. I only met briefly but I was already thinking it would be more interesting speaking to a door handle than her otherwise I remained by Santos’s side a little more at ease despite my dislike of social gatherings it was nice to be in the company of someone who didn't like them either. After greeting what felt like everyone and relentlessly walking we finally took our seats if it was my way I would have dropped onto the seat like a ton of bricks but no I gracefully sat despite the aching in my feet that was practically throbbing at this point “are you alright?” Santos whispered, his eyes were watching me closely as he leaned in on the seat beside my own.

“Yes, my feet are just killing me. No doubt blistered and bruised after this” I groaned fighting the urge not to take off the shoes then and there.

Santos laughed it must have been an odd sight to see him laugh as it caught a few people’s attention “you love to complain don't you” his voice was low to keep from those who were listening in.

“By complain you mean making factual statements then yes” I insisted giving him an almost challenging look but he just smirked always seeming to enjoy my defiance.

“Come dance with me” he more ordered than asked.

“I just told you my feet hurt, Santos” I don't think I had called him by his name cause his smirk only grew as I whined.

“I can always carry you” he teased. My eyes narrowed giving him a death stare “come on it would be rude to deny your fiance” he stood offering his hand for me to take.

“My intended fiance. I don't see a ring on this finger” I shot back and even waved my hand in front of him with my bare fingers.

“Is that what you want hmm?” leaning down slightly he captured my hand in his placing a kiss on the palm making me almost shiver at the contact.

“Yes because that is what every teenager dreams of being engaged before graduation” I rolled my eyes but he continued to smile while gently tugging my hand to rise from my seat. With a not so subtle groan, I stood my feet throbbing once again but Santos put his arm around my waist to practically support my weight which probably wasn't much for a man his size guiding me to the dance floor. The song was slow enough and I barely had to put much strain on my feet thankfully with Santos’s support.

“Maybe it's not the dream” he spoke softly his arms around my waist and head practically leaning on the top of my own “but I could get used to this” ‘get used to it’ not really the words you want to hear from your future husband but it's not like either of us were in love so what could I expect. So I just went with the flow of things letting Santos guide me around the dance floor till we were suddenly stopped by a short stout man. He leaned up best he could to whisper something in Santos’s ear he was quick to frown but gave a nod in response and the man walked away “my father wants to speak to me” he spoke softly that playful look was gone and he had hardened it was surprising with him this was what they were all look. The difference between the man at home and the man on the streets I was young yes but not naive to that “head back to the table I will be back soon” he spoke directing me back to our table before walking away leaving me alone in the crowd. At least now however I was on my usual level different but similar crowd but alone was how usually played it at these parties. Making my way back to the table and ignoring the people giving me sideways glances till I could finally slump down in my seat. I had been too busy before greeting everyone to only just notice the decor it was as tacky as the wedding itself, frills, balloon hearts and flowers in such large and overdone bouquets it was enough to make me want to gag though I had never been one for weddings or lavish parties in the first place.

I sat quietly for a while and thankfully undisturbed finally resting my feet and taking advantage that no one would be checking ID as I drank another glass of wine “seems you're having as good a time as me” an older woman approached. She was a tiny little thing probably a bit shorter than me her white hair styled elegantly the same with her makeup but it didn't hide her ageing face.

“I thought I was hiding it so well” I gave a half-hearted smile and the woman laughed taking the seat beside me.

“I saw your gloomy face and thought I must be kindred spirits” she was older but with her attitude, I couldn't help but laugh at “I'm Loretta” she introduced.

“I'm Catarina Rossi” I greeted.

“Ah, New Orleans girl” her words caught me by surprise and clearly I didn't hide it well since she continued “I keep up with all the comings and goings. Like you are going to marry my youngest grandson” I almost coughed up some wine when she dropped that information.

“Santos is your grandson?” I couldn't help but clarify.

“He is, he is a good boy too don't listen too closely to those rumours. Unlike my poor Marco over there” I followed Loretta’s gaze to Marco who stood across the room he was struggling with that fake smile now probably from how long the day it had been “marrying him off to that Vegas trash” Loretta spit “their father will never hear the end of it from me” she finally turned back to me placing a hand over my own. Her hands were wrinkled but softer than they looked clearly decades of good moisturising routine “you, however, I have a good feeling about you Catarina--”

“Nonna! Nonna” Marco called interrupting our talk.

“Excuse me” she gave me another smile patting my hand as she stood up.

“Wait how do you know your feelings are right about me?” I questioned before she could get any further.

“Because my feelings are never wrong. Enjoy the evening” she smiled again before disappearing into the crowd. First Santos’s father and now his grandmother liked me what was the difference between New York and New Orleans where I was having a bigger fan base. After I was alone again I returned to my drink as the night lingered on, people began to leave as it grew later and later into the night barely anyone remained yet there I was still at the table who knows how many glasses of wine later and still without Santos.