Zara
The sunlight that poured through the tall windows felt offensive. Too bright. Too warm. Too… cheerful.
It's the morning after our conversation in the maze garden, and I haven't seen Victor since. Not a word. Not a look. Not a trace. Not that I expected anything else.
Whatever tension had started between us under the moonlight had fizzled out—or buried itself deeper.
Now we sat at opposite ends of the dining room table, flanked by our ever-powerful parents, pretending this is a meeting and not a forced negotiation of my life.
"The wedding will be held on February fifteenth," Nikolai said, flipping through a planner like this is just another business merger. "Selene can accompany Zara to find her gown and a dress for herself as the maid of honor."
Selene will love that. She lives for this kind of thing.
I nodded. Not because I agree, but because it was easier than speaking.
Victor remained still. His arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. I don't even think he blinked when I walked into the room and for some reason, that stung me. He always had something to say. Always. Even if it was a dry insult or a cocky smile meant to unnerve me. But today? Nothing. Just a stone statue carved out of silence.
"I assume there are no objections?" my father asked, glancing at the two of us.
I shake my head.
Victor gives a barely audible grunt.
"Good," Nikolai continued. "Kieran will stand as your best man."
That caught my attention, and I blinked, only now realizing I had drifted off mentally. The tension, the pressure, the expectation. It was all wrapped around my ribs like a corset that I couldn't breathe through.
"Zara?" my father called, his voice sharp and irritated.
"Kieran will be Victor's best man," I repeated flatly, echoing the words like a parrot.
His expression hardened as he points toward the door. I rise without argument, and he follows me into the hallway, closing the door behind us with a soft but final thud.
"What is wrong with you today," he snapped. "Do you not understand the importance of this union?"
"I understand it perfectly," I replied. "I just don't see why I need to pretend to enjoy it."
"You are embarrassing me, again," he said as his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. "Nikolai is giving us his son. The least you could do is act like a proper bride."
In this family, it was always the same. The same arranged marriage, the same feeling, the same statement. When my father and mother were around Victor and my age, the same thing happened. The same agreement. The same tie between mafia leaders. My grandfather – my mother's father – said the same thing to her:
"The least you can do is act like a proper bride."
They always expect us to do much more than the boss. What do we have to do? Marry to keep the tie strong. Have children. Both boy, girl and couldn't stop until we had one of each. We had to literally carry the mafia on our backs until it killed us and then it was time to pass the role over to our daughters and repeat.
The boys did nothing compared to us. They only had to lead the mafia and make sure we had at least one boy and girl and that was it, but of course I couldn't tell my father that. It wouldn't change anything.
"I'm not feeling well," I murmured, instead. "May I be excused?"
He stared at me for a moment too long, then waved a dismissive hand. "Go."
I turn before he can say anything else.
Upstairs, I push open the door to my room and groan.
Kieran was sprawled out on my bed like he owned the place. One arm behind his head, the other scrolling through his phone like this was his personal retreat.
"Comfortable?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"Very," he said without looking up. "You always have better sheets than me."
"What do you want, Kieran," I asked, walking over and nudged his leg.
"Has father said anything," he asked, glancing up, dark eyes serious like. "About me taking over after him?"
"Not a word," I sighed. "He's too busy planning my dress fittings and napkin colors to care about succession."
"Unbelievable," he said, clicking his tongue. "How's my brother-in-law?"
That question irritated me more than it should have.
"What am I? His keeper," I snapped. "Why don't you ask him your damn self?"
Kieran raised both hands, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Touchy."
I turned away, not because I was mad but because I didn't want him to see how much Victor's silence had got to me. He always had something to say. But now? He's giving me nothing. Not even anger. Not even indifference. Just… ice.
Kieran sensed the shift in my mood and, for once, decided not to press. He patted me on the head like I'm ten years old again, then walked out without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, I grabbed my phone and texted Selene.
Want to hang out tonight?
She replied almost instantly.
YES. Let's get drunk and forget our stupid lives.
That sounded perfect.
I didn't want to think about weddings or bloodlines or Victor's silence. I wanted to drink until I forgot that my life stopped being mine a long time ago.
Less than thirty minutes later, Selene bursts into my room with three bags full of clothes, makeup, and a ridiculous pair of glittery stilettos.
"This is going to be chaos." she sang.
I nodded, already reaching for a bottle.
Chaos sounded like exactly what I needed.