He Married Another So I Accepted My Arranged Husband Chapter 01
Outside a private registrar’s office in Manhattan, my fiancé canceled our appointment for the ninth time. It was always the same reason: a phone call from Talia.
We’d been in love for six years. Six years, and this was the ninth time Salvatore had left me standing on this patch of sidewalk.
The first time, Talia had called in tears, claiming that once my engagement was formally recognized by the Family, she would lose Salvatore’s protection and be forced back to Sicily by her father.
Salvatore had said he couldn’t let anything happen to a girl entrusted to him by an allied Family. He postponed on the spot.
The second time, Talia got food poisoning at a dinner party on territory under Salvatore’s control. He left me behind to rush to her side at a private clinic.
The third time, she claimed the man from her arranged marriage was harassing her. To keep the truce between their two Families from collapsing, Salvatore took his men to her apartment and stayed with her all night.
The next few times were variations on the same theme.
Every time, some Family duty involving her came before me.
Every time, we fought.
After the eighth time, I stopped asking to get married.
Until today, Valentine’s Day, when Salvatore brought me back to the same office. Once we signed the marriage license and the advisers and witnesses added their signatures, I would become his wife, recognized by the law and by the Family.
“Let’s finish the paperwork today, Indigo,” he’d said, taking my hand. “Will you marry me?”
I’d nodded.
We had just reached the door when his phone rang.
“Sal, I know you’re with Indigo,” Talia’s voice pleaded through the speaker. “But the deadline my father gave me is today. If I can’t produce a Family-recognized marriage certificate by tonight, I have to go back to Sicily and go through with that old engagement. Are you really going to stand by and watch them take me away?”
After he hung up, Salvatore left. Again.
Not long after, Talia posted a picture of her marriage certificate on social media. Theirs. Salvatore’s and hers.
My eyes burning, I made a call.
“Mom, I’ll meet him. The man you arranged.”
My mother was silent for a beat, then let out a breath I could almost feel through the phone.
“Indigo,” she said. “You’ve finally come to your senses.”
“We’ll be waiting for you in Lugano.”
After we hung up, a confirmation for a flight to Switzerland for the next day appeared in my inbox.
I clenched my phone, my thumb tapping back to Talia’s account against my will.
In the photo, she and Salvatore were smiling at the camera in simple, formal clothes. The marriage certificate in their hands bore not only the city registrar’s seal but the signatures of both their advisers.
The caption was a single line.
*Valentine’s Day. I got married.*
The comments were a flood of congratulations from mutual friends and peripheral members of both Families.
*Congrats! When’s the reception?*
*You two hid this so well! I always thought it was just a protection arrangement.*
*When do we officially get to meet the bride?*
Talia replied to that one:
*Maybe we won’t have a big wedding. He doesn’t like too much attention.*
A few minutes later, Salvatore added his own comment.
*We will. Tonight. A neutral hotel in Manhattan. People from both sides will be there. I’m going to give Talia a wedding she’ll never forget.*
A single, harsh laugh escaped me.
I thought of all the times he’d left me outside this office.
“It only takes half an hour to sign,” I’d pleaded once. “Can’t you go after we’re done?”
He’d said, “Talia is your best friend, and she’s the daughter of an allied Family. If I ignore her, her father will see it as a deliberate withdrawal of protection. I’ll go check on her. I’ll be right back.”
When it came to Talia, he always had time, no matter what Family business was on his plate.
But for me, he couldn’t spare half an hour.
When I got back to our apartment, the front door was ajar.
Talia was standing in front of my full-length mirror, wearing a wedding dress. My wedding dress.
Salvatore stood behind her, his hands adjusting the delicate laces of the bodice. The lacing had loosened, revealing a strip of her bare back, and his hand lingered there.
Talia saw my reflection in the mirror and smiled.
“Indigo, you’re back.”
She rushed over and took my hand.
“I’m so sorry. I was desperate. I couldn’t think of anyone else who could help me, so I had to borrow Sal one more time.”
My eyes fell to the gown she was wearing.
She immediately launched into an explanation. “Sal said that if we wanted the witnesses from both sides to accept this marriage, we had to do it properly.”
“You’re the only bridesmaid I want.”
“As soon as that old Sicilian agreement is voided, I’ll end the marriage with Sal. He’ll still be yours.”
Salvatore held out a bridesmaid dress to me.
“Go try it on.”
I didn’t move.
He frowned, tossing the dress onto the sofa.
“Here we go again,” he said. “How long are you going to keep this up?”
Talia, sensing the shift in tension, quickly picked up the dress and held it out to me.
“Sal picked this out for you himself. He said you like blue.”
“You’ll look beautiful in it.”
It was a size too small.
We had been together for six years, and he didn’t even know my size.
My gaze drifted back to Talia.
“I hope everything goes well for you tonight.”
“But that dress is mine. Take it off.”