Page 30 of Saving Grace

I dropped my eyes.

There was a cum stain on the zipper of his pants. My scowl deepened.

He was having a good time while my life felt like it was ending.

I had no reason to smile.

Him and him alone was the winner in all of this. I was getting a wife I didn’t want. He’d recently got his dick sucked and wouldn’t be gaining an empire without any of the sacrifices I was making.

My stomach turned. I wanted to vomit, no… I wanted to knock his teeth from his head.

I turned away giving him my back, at the moment I couldn’t bare looking at his face and I wouldn’t pretend to be happy about a marriage I was basically being forced into.

There were some things even he couldn’t control

Newfound resentment crept up my spine and burrowed deep in my chest causing a physical ache, but what could I do?

My eyes stayed glued to the carpeted floor until Sophia took her place beside me. She slid her right hand into mine and it had taken everything in me not to pull away, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that she was beautiful—standing there in all white with her dark hair hanging down her back, resembling her namesake Sophia Loren.

The fact that she was so beautiful pissed me off even more. The entire arrangement was like a sick joke. I was about to marry a beautiful woman that I had no urge to fuck. Like always when I was in her presence—my dick lay lazily against my thigh. Unfucking interested was an understatement.

How were we going to have the kids I promised my grandfather, my dick hated her.

A growl of annoyance slipped from somewhere deep in me. Sophia’s grip on my hand tightened and the priest cleared his throat. I cut my eyes at him. He shook his head in disapproval, like I gave a fuck about his approval, he wasn't even a man of God.

Just some opportunist who preyed on those with faith. Just like me and everybody in the church he was on my grandfather's payroll, he would sell his soul for the right price. Fuck him and fuck his church.

Everything about my wedding was a fucking farce. I wasn’t even Catholic. I’d been raised Southern Baptist.

Immediately my mind drifted back to the mornings when I’d get up early and sneak out of my daddy’s trailer, so I could ride with Grace and her granny to church. On those days, sitting beside two people who loved me unconditionally listening to the choir singing, I felt whole.

There in that church, holding Grace’s soft hand—nothing else mattered. My mother who had abandoned me didn’t matter. My abusive father didn’t either. I just felt loved. In my mind that's what church was supposed to feel like. That day standing there at the altar in that church. I felt nothing, almost nothing— thinking about Grace and her grandmother had brought a smile to my face, but it was wiped away by Sophia squeezing my hand again.

“I’m so happy too” she leaned in and whispered excitedly against my ear. A sick feeling settled in the center of my chest. She wanted this marriage, which meant it wouldn’t be easy for me to get out of it. She’d expect me to play the dutiful, doting husband and I didn’t think I had it in me to do that for too long. Pretending to be Roman all the time was hard enough.

But then again, what the fuck could I do?

I exhaled a frustrated breath, letting my Roman mask slide in place. Roman didn’t feel. He would do what needed to be done. Becoming Roman allowed me to stand there pledging my allegiance to a stranger without succumbing to the rage and hopelessness I felt.

Tuning out the priest —I only listened, just enough to say my I do’s.

At the end of the ceremony, I was thankful that our nuptials didn’t call for us to exchange a kiss. I would have lost it. The thought of kissing her right then made my stomach ache.

But like a good fucking puppet I did as I was expected and held her hand as we walked back down the aisle as husband and wife. Out of my peripheral vision I could see my grandfather still smiling, the resentment grew.

During the reception all I could think about was Grace. What would she look like in her wedding dress? I could swear I smelled her strawberry scent a million times. It had me imagining how she would feel wrapped in my arms as we swayed to the music. “My Funny Valentine” would be playing. As a teen that had been one of her favorite songs and she swore she’d play it at her wedding. Momentarily I was able to escape my surroundings, but only for a moment then I remembered that she left. I became angry. She left me, without a fucking word. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of the bride and groom dance.

Infuriated at the betrayal I took my anger out on Sophia. I dropped her hand, shoving past her, I stomped out of the reception hall. I ignored her and my grandfather calling after me. I realized then that the past would always come back to haunt me as long as I held on to it. I needed to exorcise Grace from my life or I was going to lose what little sanity I had left.

The doors to the ballroom slammed behind me. I pulled out my cell and called my investigator, Rosen. “Stop looking for her.” I ordered as soon as he answered, then I hung up without a response from him knowing he would follow directions.

I leaned against the wall and exhaled, promising myself I’d forget about Grace. Tank came out and stood beside me. “You ok boss?” he asked, his tone was full of concern.

I nodded.

“Is this little break down about her?”

I nodded yes again.