The Don and His Bride

I breathe in a shallow breath as the corset is tightened until my ribs are compressed uncomfortably.

I say nothing about the pain or how uncomfortable it is. Instead I stand there like the doll I'm supposed to be, staring at myself in the mirror across the room from me. My hair is already done up in a beautiful and elegant updo, the dark brown locks in front let loose to frame my heart shaped face.

The makeup artist hired for this event has done a fantastic job on highlighting my best features, as well. My eyes look cat-like and mysterious, my lips look fuller than they really are, and my skin looks flawless. She did a wonderful job.

None of this is me, and yet this is the only person I've seen in the mirror since I can remember.

I learned early to keep my mouth shut, that if my opinions are not saught out -which they never are- then they are not wanted. Before I learned that lesson, my nanny would take measures into her own hands on how to get me to remember.

She was very thorough. I never forgot after her teachings wereadministered.

"You look beautiful, darling," my mother said as she sat in the chair in the corner of the room. "Alessandro will see you today and know he is a lucky man."

A practiced smile slid on my lips as I turned to her, nodding my head in a silent thanks. As I stood there, a group of strangers fawning over me and the beautiful white dress hanging on the back of the door, my mind stayed on my mother.

She was groomed the same way I was, possibly worse since she came before me, so I don't fault her for allowing the same fate she faught so hard against once upon a time to happen to her only daughter.

I couldn't blame her that she was just as trapped with her husband, my father, that I was with my soon to be husband.

We were two women trapped in the same world.

Prizes.

Possessions.

Beautiful status.

Two Rossi women to be seen, not heard.

I could feel a speck of anger at the unfairness begin to grow in my gut and I pushed it away. I needed to think of something else. So I stared at my reflection again, appraising all the hard work everyone was putting into this to make sure everything was perfect - I had no doubt they were being paid well, but the price of anything less than perfection would be catastrophic to any of these people working so diligently.

I silently prayed I played my part correctly and no one here would be blamed for any failure of mine.

"And now the gown, madame," my stylist said, ushering me closer to the white lace and pearls that hang on the door.

It is a beautiful dress, no doubt about it. Hand embroidered lace and hand sown pearls. Fit for a princess, which I guess that was what I was in this world.

A princess.

Any little girl would see this dress and dream of one day finding her prince charming, and she'd dream she wore this exact dress as she walked down the isle.

I steeled my spine as a shiver tried to run down it.

I showed my stylist a gentle smile as I allowed him to usher me ever closer to the dress. I am to be excited for this day, a glowing bride. No matter who I come in contact with, if they speak of me on this day they shall say I was beautiful, stunning even, elegant in all the ways, even my smiles.

That is who I must be to make it out alive.

"Thank you, Louis," I tell him as my dress is pulled up over my corset and stockings. I smile a soft smile at him. "You've done wonderful."

"They don't call me the best for nothing, madame," Louis teased, bravodo pushing his chest farther out.

"No, I suppose they wouldn't," I say, looking at myself in the mirror once again. One of the assistants brings the delicate vail to Louise as I smooth the lace against my stomach and hips.

"Madame," Louise says and I turn to him. "And the last piece is on," he says as he clips the vail into my hair. "You are now the most spectacular bride of the decade -no! The century!"

I turn back to the mirror and survey myself once again. I am beautiful, everyone here did a wonderful job. Maybe they will all live to see tomorrow after all.

"Are you ready, Valentina?" My mother asks, standing up from where she sat in the corner and subtly smoothing down her cream colored satine dress. Its the only outwardly show that she is uncomfortable. That she doesn't agree with any of this. That she wishes she could do something -anything- to stop what's about to happen to her only daughter.

But I was born for this role. Twenty years ago a contract was signed between the two rival mafia families: the Rossi family and the Moretti family. To call a truce on the bloodshed and drug wars, my father signed a contract. That the first female heir of his would be married into the Moretti dynasty.

One year later, I was born. It was fate, I assumed. Practically written in the stars that it would be me and no one else to bare this burden for the Rossi empire.

I nodded once at my mother, giving her a small smile. "I'm ready."