| Prologue |
"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves."
Lucian—
I relax back as I pour us both a scotch—on the rocks, of course.
I swirl it around the glass, listening as the ice cubes clink together and the sweet smell fills my senses before taking a slow sip. Relishing the moment. I never waste a good scotch.
I check my watch—1:17pm. One of New York's many rush hours, especially mid July. I roll down the window and scan our surroundings to best gage where we are—and by the looks of the passing buildings, we're only a few minutes away.
"Isn't it the bride who's supposed to be fashionably late, Lucian?" Marco jokes as he finishes his drink in one. He doesn't understand the idea of enjoying what the drink has to offer. I'm pretty sure it doesn't even touch the sides.
"Shut up, Marco."
He shakes his head as he laughs. "So, do I get to meet the lucky woman?”
"No," I say. "This is just business. There is no need."
The car comes to an abrupt stop before I get to speak any further. "Mr Santori, we're here." the driver informs me.
I brush off my suit, finishing my drink before I make my way inside—I may as well finish, knowing I'm already late. The door opens and my driver steps aside.
"Knock em' dead," Marco winks as I exit the car, all while pouring himself another. "Or rather, don't. Isn't that what got you into this shit in the first place?"
I ignore his comment as the smirk on his face grows, and shoot him a glare. By the time I make my way inside, everyone is already here. My eyes land on her, first. Wearing a world-class smirk of her own as I walk towards her.
My eyes scan the bland, sterile room discreetly as I pretend to listen to the words of the officiate.
I look over her shoulder to see my father, standing impatiently beside her own. The tension in the room is thick. Tension between the two men, a long and deep set feud among the families which, now, has been put on hold. Tension between my father and I, her father and herself.
And of course, the spiteful tension between myself, and the bride to be.
It only takes me a moment to realise I'm not listening to a word the grey-haired man is saying, and by the looks of it—neither is she. Yet, our fathers cling to every word like our lives depend on it.
And just as ironically, they do.
I shift my eyes as I feel the watchful stares of both men on me. I adjust my cufflinks, anything to draw attention away from the hole being burned in my head. "Mr Santori?" a strained voice sighs. It snaps me out of my daze.
“Did you two prepare vows?" he asks, his brow knitted.
"No, we didn't have time." I respond shortly. He nods slowly, his eyes flickering between her and I. I dare say this isn't the most love filled signing of marriage papers he's witnessed.
Preferably, we'd have hired someone to do it, someone who works—for us. But it had to be real.
"Alright," he breathes heavily. "Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, please join hands and repeat after me."
As I take her hands in mine, the apprehension in the room is palpable. Merely a solution to a problem, is how they phrase it. "I, Sierra Lia Vittori..," she begins. I lose track after that.
I'm lost in the look in her eyes. No matter how long I stare I can't quite tell what it is—what she's thinking. And as long as she doesn't want me to know, I simply won't. That is how she works.
"Lucian," she prompts me with a tight lipped smile.
"I, Lucian Santori..," I begin, my stare set on her, but my mind wandering. "—Take you, Sierra Lia Vittori to be my wife—" as I continue to speak, empty words flow. There must be irony, somewhere in here. Between these meaningless words we both promise to one another. With the watchful stare of our two witnesses, there's no room to back out.
It's a business arrangement. The perfect way to detach myself from the situation, or any situation for that matter. Anything can be a simple transaction if you allow it to be.
"Do you have the rings?"
She lets out a small, sarcastic gasp. One that to others—the perfect stranger, would simply be mistaken for excitement. She reaches into my suit pocket, snaking her hand across my chest slowly before pulling out two wedding bands—her chocolate brown eyes set on mine the whole time. She's amused. This is amusing to her.
She holds out her hand for me to place the ring on her finger. With the other, she sweeps a stray strand of dark hair from her face. Hair that's held together by a white diamond clip that she bought especially for today. I know she's taunting me, and she knows that I know it. That's what makes it so entertaining to her. Simply because she knows I can't say otherwise.
I am not her boss, I am not her superior. And subsequently, she is not mine. Making this... business arrangement, a first for us both.
She repeats the gesture, sliding the ring onto my finger with an amused twinkle in her eye. The papers are slid across for us to sign, and we do. "Do you wish to take his name?" he asks.
"No," she responds with a chuckle. "I'll keep my family name. Part of the family... business."
"Sierra," her father warns, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he attempts to hold back his obvious contempt.
"What?" she shrugs. "It's only a few letters difference, anyway."
Her sarcasm is as transparent as it comes.
A joke that I dare say she will recycle at every given opportunity—the close similarity in our surnames.
Ironic, since we couldn't be more different.
Her disobedience towards her father still amuses me. Of course, she is twenty three years old—but in our line of work, that means nothing to the boss. In the normal world you gain independence and freedom at eighteen, even more so at twenty one—but for us, that's not how it works. Yet, it doesn't seem to phase her in the slightest.
"Well, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, if you wish." he states with uncertainty, a hint of sarcasm of his own. It's not only me who's notices the sterility of the situation.
"It feels like just last week we were strangers," she purrs, pressing her hand to my chest once more. She's just full of fire today. I want nothing more than to grab her wrist and pull it away, this is her way of showing me she's in control—but I can't. It's vital. She knows it.
"Time is a funny thing, my love," I respond with a tilted smile. She smirks in amusement.
Amusement is something that'll fade quickly when word gets out of our 'arrangement.'
Once it gets out that our families are merged, and Sierra and I are married—it will be a shit storm. Still, a better option to the alternative. We just couldn't risk the exposure.
And that, is down to my mistake. A mistake I've never made before. A mistake that may cost me my future as boss in this family if I don't prove myself worthy again. Yet it is not only my mess, but Sierra's.
I smile at my new wife and pull her into my chest, bringing my lips to her ear. "Having fun, Sierra?" I whisper lowly.
"Oh, more than you know." she responds, before pulling away to look me in the eye. She is like no one I've ever met.
Enraging.
"Ready?" she asks, holding out her hand for me to take—the ring I just placed on her finger taunting me almost as much as she is.
I knew I was screwed as soon as I made the hit, and watched the petite blonde bystander flee the scene in complete horror. Rookie mistake.
But that is easily enough... taken care of.
I was blissfully ignorant to the woman only metres away that had seen the whole thing. Not that she would have much moral room to judge, with all of the dirt of her own on those dainty little hands which now sported a wedding band.
Her silence would have been a virtue, if only things would have worked in our favor.
We are merely a means to an end; and I can't help but hope the end is nearer than it seems. Sierra Vittori is a whole other problem in herself, and I'll be damned if I don't know how to solve it.
"Ready." I respond lowly, snaking my arm around her waist as we exit the room. Newlyweds.
Her eyes gleam as we make our way outside, my hand falling from around her as soon as we are out of the public eye.
"See you," she smiles, removing the clip and shaking her fingers through her thick hair. She sends me one last glance before climbing into her car.
I push my fingers through my hair in frustration and watch in silence as she drives away, the speed limit only a suggestion in her mind. I cross my arms, a voice in the back of my mind telling me the end is a lot further than I had hoped.
"See you."
