Page 7 of The One Night Match (Mafia Matchmaker #1)

SEVEN

RILEY

H iding the bruises on my neck and shoulders from my one-night stand on my wedding day was not on my bingo card.

But neither was fucking the sinfully hot tattooed stranger in his office and then fleeing like my ass was on fire.

I ran for three blocks before I realized he wasn’t chasing me, and I won’t even go into how disappointed I was by that fact.

Why would he?

I was just a random hookup to pass the time.

And why do I care at all?

I shake off that question because right now I have bigger issues than analyzing why I give a single fuck about a man I’ll never see again.

I’m surrounded by white.

There’s literally a sea of it in the dressing room of the church, and it’s starting to make me a bit dizzy.

Unlike my sisters, who have always gone for more neutral tones, I like bright colors.

If you ask my mother, she’ll tell you I’ve been this way since I was a baby, but I think she’s probably just trying to reassure herself that she didn’t fail in the Mafia wife training she put me and my sisters through.

I always thought I’d be walking down the aisle in a pink or even a purple dress, but instead, it’s nothing but white tulle that itches every time I move.

“You look beautiful, honey,” Mom gushes, and she quickly wipes the tears from her eyes.

I know I’ve been pretty critical of my parents up to this point, but they’re not bad people. Well, my dad kind of is, but not to his family.

They’ve always shown us an unlimited amount of love, always supported us, and, for the most part, given us the freedom to make our own way in life.

Apart from this wedding.

And even this hasn’t been a direct attack on me and my freedom as much as I would like to think it is. My sisters and all the other single women in the family have been fed into the Mafia Matchmaker algorithm. I was just the unlucky one who got a match.

They’ve paused the rest of the profiles while they wait to see how successful my marriage is before putting any of the other women through it.

So I guess I just drew the short straw…again.

“Thanks, Mom.” I force my lips up into a smile, but my chest aches with every second that passes.

After today, my parents will go back to San Francisco, and I’ll be here with a bunch of strangers and a husband who may or may not expect me to fall at his feet every time he opens his mouth.

I haven’t allowed myself to think too much about the potential life that could be awaiting me at the other end of the aisle, because after my first meltdown, I packed my shit and almost ran away from home in a panic.

But my desperate need to make my parents proud made me turn my car around when I was barely outside the city.

Maybe I should have run when I had the chance.

Ari wraps her arms around me, the soft satin of her baby blue dress brushing over my arms as she pushes the tulle out of the way. “I can’t believe you’re marrying Cruz De Luca,” she gushes. “He’s so fucking hot.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I tell her as I drain my glass of champagne.

Thankfully, my late-night romp in a strange man’s office burned off the alcohol from last night, so there were no lingering symptoms of my night out. Other than the ache between my thighs and the bruises all over my body, at least.

I don’t know how I’m going to explain them if my new husband decides we’re consummating our marriage tonight, but that’s a bridge I’ll cross if we come to it.

“You didn’t read the file?” Cassidy gasps, her bright hazel eyes wide with surprise.

My older sister is beautiful in a way that always made me feel inadequate.

No matter whether she’s dressed in a classic suit for church on Sunday or in tactical gear for training with my father’s men, she looks flawless.

I shake my head. “I was going to last night, but I was too tired after the flight.”

“I’ve heard he’s nice to the people in his circle,” Mom says, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’d hope you’re not marrying me off to someone you thought would be mean to me,” I say it as a joke, but it comes out sharper than I expect.

I don’t think there will ever be a time that I’m not hurt by the fact that I’m being used as a test case for the other women in our family.

No matter how much time I spend trying to convince myself otherwise, this is a betrayal I’m going to struggle with for the rest of my life, even if Cruz turns out not to be a terrible husband.

My mother’s face softens, and she sighs, taking both my hands in hers. “Honey, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it will help the family.”

I try not to roll my eyes, really, I do, but I can’t help it. “For once, I’d like my life not to be controlled by a business I had no say in being a part of.”

I tug my hands back and cross to the full-length mirror, taking a few moments to myself to take stock of myself.

The bodice of my dress is delicate lace and boning, a combination I thought I would hate, but as I run my fingers over the material, I find I quite like the way it looks with my auburn hair curled over it.

The skirt is long and thick, making me look more like a princess than a bride.

It may not be the style I walked into the boutique hoping for, but I realize now this is the dress I was always meant to get married in.

My eyes fall closed as I drag in calming breaths.

You can do this, I tell myself. This isn’t the end. Your life will go on after today, just with a slightly different trajectory than you expected.

When I went away for college, I thought it was the opportunity I needed to get away from the Mafia, but somehow, I found myself right back in the orbit of the criminal world within a year of graduating.

Giving up my job at the University of San Francisco as the head librarian is perhaps the part of all this that stings the most, but if Cruz allows me to work, I have a stellar resume and references. Maybe the work I loved so much doesn’t have to be over forever.

Just the idea that my husband won’t let me have the autonomy of my own decisions makes my chest tighten with panic.

“Time to go,” my father says softly beside me.

I look up at him, his eyes the same shade of blue as mine, but his are surrounded by the evidence of the stress his job puts him under. His salt and pepper hair is far more salt than pepper at this point, but he’s still every bit the man I spent my childhood looking up to.

He holds up my veil, more tulle, and I sigh.

I turn, and he places the clip in place, his fingers gentle as he secures the white fabric and carefully guides it over my face.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Riles.”

“Me too,” I whisper, blinking back the tears that pool in my eyes. I can’t allow myself to cry because I doubt I’ll be able to stop if I let the tears start.

“Cruz is a good man. He takes care of his own.”

I nod. We’ve had this conversation over and over again, and this time it really is too late to change his mind.

“I’m going to miss having you nearby, though,” he continues, looping his arm through mine and guiding me toward the doors that lead to the aisle.

I don’t know how I didn’t notice everyone clearing out, but clearly, my own thoughts distracted me from everything that was going on around me.

Dad always says I live my life in my own little bubble. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way…I don’t think, but it’s a part of myself I’ve learned to accept.

“I’ll miss San Francisco a lot,” I admit.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

I look up at him as we pause by the double doors. The wedding march plays on the other side, and there’s a soft hum of voices as my sisters make their way toward the altar.

“You always knew what you wanted, always took the world by the horns and forged your own path. I know your mother and I have struggled with you not wanting to be a part of the family business, but that doesn’t mean we’re not immensely proud of everything you’ve done despite us.”

I give him a wobbly smile, my entire body trembling with the emotions beating down on me. “Thanks, Dad.”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the doors swing open and every eye in the room turns to us, stealing the breath straight from my lungs.

“Don’t worry, Riles. I won’t let you fall.”

I nod but keep my eyes trained on the red carpet at my feet.

Stage fright on your wedding day can’t be that uncommon, right?

Every step closer to the altar feels like another step toward the end of my life as I know it, and yet I don’t stop. I don’t yank my arm from my father’s, hike up my dress, and sprint out of here like my ass is on fire.

I just keep walking.

Dad helps me up the two steps that my sisters are standing on before giving my hand a squeeze.

Cassidy steps forward and fluffs the back of my dress. Dad says something quietly to my almost-husband, and then he turns back to me, carefully lifting the veil out of my face.

He gives me one last soft smile and steps down to take his seat beside Mom, leaving me with no other choice but to look at my groom.

The last thing I expect is to meet familiar dark eyes that look just as surprised as I feel as he stares back at me.