An Arranged Marriage To The Mafia...?

Under World Celebrations Turn to a String of Wild Antics

The tabloids screamed from the shelves; they were never something I would eagerly push across a counter and drop a twenty for, but something lured me, something that splashed the imagery of my 'dearly beloved' fiancé and the flirtatious smile of Penelope Jakowski. It took ten seconds for the cashier to throw me my change with a strange glance and for me to take six steps outside, flip the gloss cover open and scan down the small print.

The criminally minded of Nevada last night waltzed around the La Grace ballroom to re-celebrate the suprise engagement of heavy weight children Amelia Samuels and the one and only Ethan Radev.

The festivities were re-held on account that during a celebratory dinner last week the merging families were interrupted with a round of gun fire and the life of one of their own tragically taken. The soon-to-be-wedded couple seemed happy enough, laughing and smiling along side eachother with endeared friends and family. Yet this soon to be princess Amelia wasn't sporting even the tiniest of diamonds on her small manicured finger, instead her wedding finger hung empty and alone over the white table dressings.

To make matters worse, as midnight struck cinderella skipped out with daddy-dearest and Ethaniel Radev lapped up the opportunity to swoon the entourage of eyelid-battering beauties and none more than the volumptuous Miss Jakowski. Something tells us if Ethaniel keeps his smooth antics up it could be quite some time before Amelia Samuels ever sees her diamonds.

My fingers immediately felt the printed paper bust into a delicate ball of scrawled ink and screwed imagery. It took no more than 24 hours for the media to cover the story, no longer than a day to sniff out scandal and print it for the whole of Nevada to read. We; the lives who were shunned were treated like the hollywood glamour all for the stories. Our lifestyle sold papers quicker than anything else, we were the ones who got away with any illict adventure anyone ever thought of, the only problem was the tabloid did nothing but find issues within ourselves.

I could feel the heat rising to my face, my shoes echoed up the staircase, my fist pounding on the wooden frame, the other gripping the slender handle of a suitcase. I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, the ringing monotonous but going ignored. I could hear footsteps before a brief silence, the chain locks sliding and the creak of aging hinges.

"Amelia?" I said nothing to my father's confused expression, instead I pressed the folded, crease and crinkled magazine to his chest and stormed my way inside, my suitcase hot at my heels as I hurried away.

Adultry was a sin. It earned a disapproving wrath from the elderly and moral and I was certainly sure it was reason enough to declare a quick hault and demise of my arranged marriage. I was more than ready to call an end to the forced betrothal, to end the chaos of being expected to marry in order to gain a promising business advantage for my father, yet for some reason something had disappointment and demise burning from the inside.