The Return Mafia Bride

ent from her own life. While Cathy had previously decided that some things, including her past with him, could never be corrected, he still wanted things mended. She placed the phone asid

the instant it touched the table. She could not identify the picture of a younger version of herself standing next to two strangers. The woman exuded royal dignity and confidence, but Cathy

icture started to blur. The same crest, the same family emblem she had spent her whole life tryi

n's name was... Why seemed the crest so familiar? She only felt that something deeply buried

this moment, was only the beginning of something far darker

e of it a shudder shot her spine. Once more buzzed the phon

on the screen. Her heart accelerated, and she got to her feet walking across her apartment's sp

hy nothing ever seemed to fit exactly. Even in the glittering f

ght within minutes. Venues, Italy; Venice She had never gone there, but she had always been pulled to. She prayed she might flee the gnawing

e throng around her did not help to conceal the sensation of something hovering about. She looked at the

k her head, trying to concentrate on the present work. She was not here contemplating unusual interactions. She cou

Like a cool hand stroking the rear of her neck, her sense of following grew more intense. Her ideas fle

appeal. The setting seemed familiar, as though she had been here in another life. Her own ideas, the

help but find beauty in the meandering walkways and the complex architectural designs; neverth

to the architecture. She was walking along the small streets when she noticed an antique building with an elaborate stone façade with scul

n. She had seen this emblem before, carved into a locati

om the symbol. There, in the centre of Venice, it seemed to mock

ash of reds, oranges, and yellows. Cathy couldn't, however, really concentrate on the deals, the l

h startling accuracy, their eyes gliding over everything but seemed to be disconnected from the vibrant spectacle all around. One was tall and broad-shouldered, his black,

mfortable. She moved and they moved every time. They slowed down every time she stop

a gathering of old lace lay, its delicate threads seemingly whispering to her, yet the towering man was still there, not far behind. He looked at her, no, across her, with

ps neared her spine, a shudder crawled there. She refused to turn around. Then he passe

ft the store. Her breath came in short gasps; the heaviness in her chest only got worse as she hurriedly searched for a path out

xiety, the terror, had pushed her ahead without thought. She peered about, but the meandering passageways all see

ss a dead-end alley. Her intimate proximity to the stone walls pressed in from all sides

the market had shown themse

ke dark velvet rubbing across her nerves. "No need to run, Cathy," he murmu

ing between a sneer and a smile. He stepped forward, his hands laid sloppily at his sides,

let them notice her level of anxiety. Seeking some sort of escape, she stepped ba

uite small. Sh

forward. Though the words were anything but comforting, he mutter

y sought. Her mind ran for a way out, but before she could act the

back into the corner. The planet had reduced to only these two

ubdued murmur, but it sliced thro

s bring you. If you come v