Married With Malice

by Cora Brent

She knew I thought she was still at the spa. She saw an opportunity to run. From me. From us. From what we’ve become. And yes, that is all my fault. My fault for escalating our constant war. My fault for failing to see what she really wanted. My fault for not understanding her, for letting her believe I didn’t care.

“It’s my fault she’s out here,” I say. Chase winces and shakes his head. “No, Luca.” “You don’t understand. My wife was running away from ME.”

“She didn’t make it.” Fuck no. That’s not the way our story ends.

I love you, Annalisa. I can’t leave this mountain without my wife.

However, I once saw Luca have a sneezing fit when he stood too close to my mother’s lavender bushes in the backyard. Might have been a coincidence but I’m hoping he sneezes himself into a bloody nose today.

The black corset bodice is laced with blood red stitching. The skirt is composed of yards of layered black tulle. Before I leave the room I plan to add a lime green wig and a gothic black veil. The wedding photos will be hideous.

“You look like you’re one full moon away from eating bats in a graveyard.”

“Annalisa will be a respectful, obedient wife. Just like her mother.” That’s hilarious. If didn’t know better, I’d have to wonder if he’s actually ever met his middle daughter. Annalisa Barone is about as respectful and obedient as a badger with rabies.

It was Annalisa, the middle Barone sister, who captured my imagination. For looks, she’s my dream girl with a tight, athletic body, long dark hair, pouty lips and deep brown eyes that could have been my downfall if they’d ever once looked my way with longing.

“Fuck you,” she replies through gritted teeth. “Have patience. We’ll get to that.”

So far, marriage has not improved Annalisa’s temper. This might be a long evening.

Six years ago someone told him that I’m the devil’s handmaiden.” I look her up and down. “Aren’t you?”

“But I love your whole wedding look. How’d you guess that I have a witch kink?” I slide my fingers through a section of green hair. “You’re bringing this on the honeymoon, right? I can’t wait.”

“Hey, I’m right there with you. There comes a time when you’ve got to take one for the team and get what you can out of it.”

“If you won’t tell my father no,” I say, “then I’ll tell him. I’m not a kid anymore and I won’t tolerate getting roughed up in my own house.”

“Which one of those bastards touched you? Tell me right now and I swear to god I’ll fucking handle it.”

Which one of those bastards on your father’s payroll put his motherfucking hands on my wife?”

I’m good enough for him to fuck. He’ll tolerate sleeping beside me. He’ll escort me places when he needs to and grudgingly refer to me as his wife. But Luca doesn’t want more than that. He never did.

This is only the second time I’ve ever cried over a man. I wish it didn’t hurt far worse than some stupid college breakup.

If I can’t have love, at least I can have snacks.

“Everything will be all right, sweetheart,” he says. “Just don’t go to sleep, you hear me?”

I’m in awe, absolute awe. It’s as if no time has passed since I was a teenage boy secretly watching her from the stands and nursing a serious crush. That boy would be astounded to know the forbidden girl he was obsessed with would someday be his wife. And what’s more, he would love her so fiercely that one look at her was enough to make his throat tighten.