Page 60 of Captive Rival: Armani
Juliana’s sharp tone forces me from my shocked stupor.
My best friend just told me that she’s entering an arranged marriage and her fiancé is Russian.
What are the odds? And what better way to seal an alliance between powerful mob families than a wedding that binds two clans? No matter which way I turn, it seems like Russians are popping up everywhere. And once the Brunos officially join forces with the Bratva, there will be no stopping them.
“Sorry. You just caught me by surprise, is all,” I say, lifting my coffee cup to my lips to hide the grimace I can’t erase.
“I know, right? Here I was, thinking I’d never get married at all, and then an eligible bachelor just falls into my lap. Not that we have to treat it like an actual relationship or anything. It’ll just be on paper.”
“Yeah. Totally.” As if I don’t knowexactlywhat that’s like.
I feel sick at the thought of her getting married like this, though, especially to a man who is—in all likelihood, though she hasn’t confirmed it—a gangster.
Which must seem ridiculously hypocritical of me.
But my experience being fake-married to a made man isexactlywhy I have room to judge such an arrangement. I know I’m no better than Juliana. I just don’t want her to end up in a relationship that’s anything like mine. What I wish I could tell her right now is this: Just because you’re involved in an ostensibly loveless marriage, it doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. Pragmatism and logic have no power against the lunacy of emotional attachment. It can creep up when you least expect it.
Unfortunately, I can’t dole out that kind of advice. It would be akin to admitting that my marriage to Armani isn’t at all what I’ve made it out to be. At which point, Jules would realize that my husband is the one playingme, not the other way around. My cover would be blown to smithereens. She’d know I’m a Bellanti stooge, that I’m double-crossing her and the Brunos.
So all I can do right now is pretend to be thrilled for her.
And hope to God that she doesn’t catch feelings for this guy and start to think that she loves him. It won’t end well. Just look at me.
I think back to when I was first considering Armani’s offer for me to move in with him at the Bellanti estate for six months. He wanted to skip the casual dating and just jump right into cohabitating. The whole thing had thrown me for a loop, but Juliana had been all for it right from the get-go. She’d even told me to make my own list of demands in exchange for agreeing. In her eyes, moving in with Armani for a trial-by-fire relationship was a smart move, something I could leverage to my own benefit.
She’s always been so cold and calculating. No wonder she doesn’t seem at all upset about being a pawn. Unlike me. When I woke up in that hotel room with a wedding ring on my finger, I thought my marriage to Armani was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Now, I’m not so sure.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “So do you two have something in writing already, or…”
A smile breaks the concern on her face. “We’re working on the contract. It’s all planned out, Candi. Don’t worry a minute about me. He knows what’s expected of him. And so do I.”
“Okay. As long as you’re sure about this.”
“I am.”
Juliana takes my hand. Her eyes grow warm. Little lines crease beside them and the tension eases from her face as she grins. It’s easy to think that she really might be happy about this.
“Candi, I…I want you to be my matron of honor. The wedding is next month. Super short notice, I know, but I can’t do this without you.”
Next month? It seems fast, but that’s not as confounding as the fact that Juliana knows full well that she and I are not supposed to be seen together. Because obviously, we can’t risk tipping off the Bellantis (or anyone in their network) about my link to the Bruno family.
In reality, of course, Armani and his family already know about me being a mole for the Brunos. But Juliana doesn’t know thattheyknow. And the Bellantis certainly don’t know who my Bruno contact is. Being a member of Juliana’s Big Fat Bruno Wedding party? It screams suspicious.
Still, I’m over the moon that she asked. I’d be devastated if she hadn’t. But…I don’t know how to navigate this. Is she testing me? Testing my allegiance? What will happen if I say no? Although, honestly, how can I say anything but yes? My back is up against a wall. There’s only one way out.
“Are yousureyou want it to be me?” I say. “I mean I’d love to, but—are you sure it’s safe? The Bellantis—”
“Of course I’m sure! The Bellantis don’t know anything about me, and you can just tell your hubs that I’m an old college friend from UCSF. That part is completely true anyway. Besides, my last name isn’t Bruno. There’s no reason for him to suddenly want to go digging into my genealogy.”
“Then yes! A thousand times yes!”
“Yay! And here’s the waiter with our mimsies!”
She’s referring to the mimosas she yelled across the courtyard for. Once we’ve clinked glasses and sipped, she scoots her chair over to my side of the table to sneak bites of my pancakes in between showing me all the potential wedding dresses she’s added to her Pinterest.
I try to ooh and ahh the best I can, but my anxiety about Juliana’s nuptials is through the roof. Not to mention, I’m worried that Armani might be getting suspicious. All he knows about my plans today is that I needed Donovan to drive me to a catch-up brunch with my college roommate, but this meeting with Jules has lasted far longer than I’d expected. I need to get back home soon.
“I still have so much wedding planning to do,” Juliana groans. “My fiancé doesn’t care about the details, so that helps, but it also makes it almost impossible to nail down anything when I know I can do whatever I want. Luckily, I was able to reserve Aurelia Manor for the venue. Can you believe I’m getting married in an olive grove? Talk about the future Mrs. Orloff winning at life.”
