An Arranged Marriage To The Mafia...?

My father's eyes smiled from down the long red table cloth, they twinkled and danced in the bright lights, they watched my every movement, expression and action. I kept his eager stare in mind as I sat with the family's closest contacts and most trusted allies. I did everything possible to keep my father smiling; I laughed at the older gentlemens' jokes and pretended to be completely interested in business talks but most of all I pretended that the words past between myself and Ethan were those of admiration and love. Ethan on the other hand was an entirely different story, he slouched in his seat and swirled his drink around his glass, he leaned backward and chatted softly to only a select few guests, the others; he simply ignored.

I leaned back into my up-right chair, the smooth fabric cover smothered over the small amount of bare skin, I pressed a glass of water to my lips and let the cool liquid spill down my throat. Ethan leant forward upon his elbows.

"You're acting fake and forced." His voice held no sincerity only a chilling mockery.

"At least I'm doing something." I spoke with a smile and glanced around the table praying nobody could tell we were not getting along. "You're just pulling yourself away and being anti-social."

"Because I don't care what these people think of me."

"They're your father's businessmen..." I smiled and waved as a tall blonde woman sat down further up the table, her lipstick ten shades too bright and dress fifteen years out of style.

"Exactly, my father's not mine. Why should I feel the need to impress them."

"Maybe because one day they will be yours..." I rolled my eyes but never let the smile fall from my lips, our image as a happily doted couple was suppose to be upheld no matter our actual feelings.

"By the time I take over, they'll all be dead." He let a smirk form across his lips. "don't be so naïve Amelia."

Well before I could object or throw a shallow comment at him, he'd turned to face the red face of Marcel Carmicle a drugs traffiker who worked for everybody but swore nobody. "My friends," the Italian waved his arms around to identify the crowd of people sat around the long table, "The last time we gathered like this, certain circumstances resulted in us losing somebody of incredible importance. David, my dearest of friends. David was like a brother to me..." The table laughed light heartedly at his small gesture of humour, David and Marcel were in fact brothers. "He was my baby brother and he was family.." The table applauded and even Ethan's palms tapped together in complete praise. "But he was murdered on a night of happy celebration, and that is what tonight should be. A celebration of David and a blessing to two of our very own for their long and prosperous life ahead." He raised a small champagne flute toward Ethan and myself and the whole table quickly followed suite. It had a blush embedded in my cheeks faster than anything else.

Congratulations flowed around the tables with warm wishes of luck and happiness, I smiled and pretended to be truely completely happy. "Where's your ring?" The aging voice of one of the men's wives spoke down the table as my eyes looked upon my bare finger, without a ring it was practically unoffical and that was the way I liked it.

I stammered to say anything which may have made sense and kept my eyes at my ring-less hand.

"With all the chaos and commotion we just haven't quite found the time." Ethan's hand placed itself securely in the centre of my back in what would have been perceived to be a loving motion, I however knew better and yet I hated myself for the way his touch still managed to make butterflies dance around my stomach.

As dinner drew to a sudden end, women who I'd hardly know whisked me instantly to a far off corner by the doorway, they laughed and gaggled about lace and diamonds, where specific celebrities had recently been married and honeymooned and the importance of tradition. My eyes wandered for a moment over the emptying room, they strayed from the babbling wives to the figured sitting alone at the table, his body leaned slightly over an almost empty glass, his eyes staring deep in thought. Ethan's line of thought was suddenly cut off as a small breeze flew through the room, his gaze catching mine for the splittest second, his lips briming to a perfect, challenging grin. It sent a jolt of electricity through my heart and had my mouth running dry. Ethan had never looked at me with the same gaze in his eyes and it took my breath away.

His elbows straightened and he pushed himself from the linen clothed table, his body moving in elegant strides around and toward the swarm of excited mothers, my heart picked up pace. His eyes stayed glued to mine as he wandered slowly over, his grin never disappearing. It was only when he was a few metres away did I even realise, his eyes were somewhat glazed and dancing in the lights and it almost seemed as if he were starring off somewhere behind me, only it didn't seem like it. Ethan's attention was not at all focused on me, his smiles weren't mine and the glimmer of light in his vision wasn't made by my presence. They all belonged to Penelope Jakowski; the daughter of Antonio and my father's most untrustworthy counter part Mr. Allan Jakowski.