Page 15

Bia

Time keeps going on over the past two months. I have only seen Cillian two maybe three times since the baptism.

I guess our marriage will be one that he will summon me when he needs me but otherwise, we will live our separate lives.

My family flew in this week for my wedding, and it was all going well until yesterday when they found out I had converted. My mother was silently fuming while my Grandfather looked at me like he wanted to kill me.

I rub my upper arm where he held me last night as he shook me after dinner.

“You fucking disgraced our family by becoming a fucking Catholic. You better hope he never wants to get rid of you, because now no Greek man would want you now.”

I chose a long sleeve silk wedding dress that looks like a medieval floor length dress. The corset in the back is pulled tight enough that each breath hurts. Across the neckline lay diamonds in Irish knot symbols. Then the silk sash that goes around my hips and down the front of my dress has more of the diamond Irish knots.

Grace gave me a beautiful blue and white choker necklace that has been in the family for generations. She told me each bride of the future leader of the Mafia has worn it on the day of their wedding and it is to be handed down to their first-born son’s wife.

I play with the sheer light blue cloak that lays over my dress. I’m waiting for my Grandfather to come in to walk me down the aisle.

“Bia,”

I hear the sharp voice of my Grandfather.

“Yes, sir.”

I nod with my head down and wait for him to walk up to me. He lifts his hand; I immediately kiss his knuckles.

“I had such high hopes for you.”

I continue to look down, not wanting to have to cover up any bruises.

“But you ruined it by going and become a fucking Catholic.”

He yanks me up by my arm, and I stumble a few steps quickly. He forces my chin up; I feel see the anger that is pouring from him in waves.

“Since you decided to fuck up my plans, you will have to be a spy for me.”

“What? No!”

He doesn’t hesitate and punches me in my jaw, my hip hits the table before I fall to the ground.

“No loyalty to your family? Shameful. Tell me are you still a virgin or have you been spreading your legs for any Irish cock?”

he says before kicking my legs.

“I promise I’m still a virgin.”

“Good, you better be. If he isn’t happy with your cunt, you will suffer the consequences.”

I cry out when he steps on my hand, “When I come back to visit, I expect information and for you to be pregnant. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, get up and clean yourself up. At least Cillian already had a pretty wife.”

He smirks before saying, “We both know it isn’t you.”

I slowly stand up and head into the bathroom and quickly fix my hair and make-up before walking back into the bedroom. As much as I want to hide, I can’t avoid my doom.

I loop my arm through my Grandfather’s and walk by him in silence. We walk down the stairs and to the back doors, where the wedding planner is waiting for us.

“Oh, Bia darling, you look radiant.”

“Thank you, everything looks perfect.”

“I’m glad you love it.”

She pauses when someone talks into her earpiece.

“Alright, it’s show time.”

Grandfather leads me toward Cillian. I look to his face, and it is clear he would rather be anywhere else but here. I make sure not to show how much it hurts, but there is nothing I can do to stop this. Marry a man who hates me and may kill me or be used viciously by men at one of my Grandfather’s brothels.

My Grandfather squeezes my hand. “You better do as you are told.”

“I know, Sir.”

Grandfather has a big grin on his face as he walks me up the aisle toward Cillian. I watch Cillian’s face and his expression never changes. Grandfather places my hand in Cillian’s, he kisses my cheek.

“Take care of her,”

he tells Cillian.

“I will,”

Cillian replies, Grandfather gives a nod before walking off to his seat. Cillian tugs on my hand to move in front of Father Michael. He drops my hand once we are standing in front of Father Michael.

Father Michael looks at both of us and gives a smile before he starts to speak. “We have gathered here today, in the presence of family and friends to join Cillian O’Sullivan and Bia Vasileious.”

I tune him out as I get lost in my thoughts and think about how it is about to be hell for me. I had always hoped that the man I would have to marry would at least be friends with me even if he didn’t love me. How could we possibly get a long knowing he can’t stand the sight of me?

I will always be the woman he hates, the woman he was forced to marry, and eventually the mother of his children. Never his love, his friend, or his other half. I would give him my heart and soul just to not have him look at me with such regret.

“The promises you make today and the ties that are bound here will cross the years and will greatly strengthen your union. Do you still seek to enter this ceremony?”

Father Michael asks.

“Yes, we seek to enter,”

we say together. I hate that I’m about to lie to God in a church.

“Bia, will you honor him?”

“I will,”

I answer honestly; he may not be I always will.

“Cillian, will you honor her?”

“I will,”

he states.

“Will you seek never to give cause to break that honor?”

“We will,”

we answer together.

Father Michael keeps asking questions for the next few minutes. With each question he asks he would add another cord of rope over our hands for the handfasting.

“And the binding is made,”

Father Michael happily states while he ties the rope around our hands.

“The knots of this binding are not formed by these cords, but rather by your vows. For as always, you hold in your own hands the making or the breaking of this union,”

Father Michael states before he removes them and sets them on the altar.

“Cillian, will you take Bia to be your wedded wife to live together in the covenant of marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her. In sickness and health, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,”

he states while staring at my face.

“Bia, will you take Cillian to be your wedded husband, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him? In sickness and health, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Father Michael continues with some readings and scriptures about love and commitment.

“Today, your wedding day, is one brief day in time, and although your vows are spoken in a matter of minutes, they are promises that will last a lifetime,”

Father Michael states. He motions for Cillian to say his vows.

“I, Cillian O’Sullivan, take you, Bia Vasileious, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

“I, Bia Vasileious, take you, Cillian O’Sullivan, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

I wish he would look anything but angry right now, but the further we get into the ceremony, the angrier he looks. I sigh and look away from his face.

I’m broken out of my trance when I feel someone grab my hand. I look and see Cillian holding my hand with my ring on the end of my finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed,”

he states before roughly pushing it on my finger. I bite my cheek to keep from yelping in pain.

I take Cillian’s ring from Kayleigh as I repeat what Cillian just did without roughly pushing his ring on his finger.

Father Michael continues with the ceremony with more reading. When he gets to the Irish Blessing, I know we are almost done.

“May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sunshine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon the fields.

May the light of friendship guide your paths together. May the laughter of children grace the halls of your home.

May the joy of living for one another with a smile from your lips, a twinkle from your eye. And when eternity beckons, at the end of a life heaped high with love.

May the good Lord embrace you with the arms that have nurtured you the whole length of your joy-filled days. May the gracious God hold you both in the palm of His hands. And, today, may the Spirit of Love find a dwelling place in your hearts. What God has put together, let no man take apart.”

Father Michael smiles at both of us, if he only knew how fake this marriage is and how Cillian is probably planning my death as he speaks.

“I pronounce you husband and wife. Cillian, you may kiss your bride.”

I swallow hard. Will he kiss me or embarrass me by showing everyone how much he hates me?

Cillian wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to his chest. He brings his mouth next to my ear saying, “Relax, wife.”

In the next moment his lips are on mine, and before I can react, the kiss is already over. I stare at him as he just smiles tightly.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Cillian O’Sullivan,”

Father Michael says loudly and proudly.

Everyone starts to cheer as Cillian grabs my hand and walks us away from the alter.