Love and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  She thought she was impure, but she didn’t see what I saw. What her brother saw or what the rest of the guys saw. But I also noticed something they didn’t, she was darker now. Different after everything that happened to her. She was still as innocent as ever, but she wasn’t naïve. Now she knew what evil things this world had to offer. How cruel humankind could truly be. And yet, despite all that, she refused to see the evil in everyone. Still allowing herself to be open. Open to vile men like me. A killer who was just as bad as the men who ruined her life.

  There was a darkness in her eyes that matched my own, but there was also that spark of life that was slowly coming back. She was the embodiment of strength. Of what it takes to overcome something. She was my pure white light, piercing through my darkness. She was my angel. And I was the Devil. We shouldn’t have worked as well as we did. Fate has tried to keep us away more times than not, but defying fate is what we did. It’s what we do. And the fact of the matter is, we do work well together. We’re a family and I’d protect them until the end of time. Until I took my last dying breath.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  I smirk. “I’ve never been more ready.”

  Garrett chuckles, shaking his head back and forth in amusement. His mood is light, lighter than I’ve seen it in a long time. He clutches the box to his chest and nods at me one last time before making an idiotic face at my son to make him smile before slipping out of the room to find Sophia.

  “Ready to see your mommy?” I whisper down at Angel. He laughs, his toothless grin spreading across his face, his chubby cheeks have that same pink tint his mother’s do. His smiles would never cease to amaze me. My heart burns like it’s on fire as I stare down at my little guy.

  I squeeze my son against my chest and blow out a sharp exhale. Today I’m getting married. Today is the day Sophia will officially be my wife.

  “HOW MANY DID YOU SAY again?” I ask Alexis, wheezing through the tightness in my chest.

  “Stop it. It’s not as many as you think. You act like you’re at the Grammys or the Oscars getting your first award. This is your wedding, Soph. Don’t be nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous about marrying Creed. I’m nervous about everything else. The people. All their eyes on me—watching me. I mean, three hundred people? That’s a lot.”

  She steps up behind me in the mirror straightening out my train. My chest squeezes as I stare at my reflection. It’s my wedding day. The day girls dream of. The day I’ve always dreamed of.

  I run my hands over the material of my dress. It was designed by none other than Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen. I thought Creed was joking when he said he managed to snag her to design my dress. I didn’t even know what I wanted. I just knew I wanted to feel beautiful and somehow incorporate Creed’s mother’s dress into my own. And as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I realize she did just that. It’s obvious there’s so much hype behind her name because she really is an amazing designer.

  My wedding dress is an absolute work of art. The intricate detailing, lacework and beading is from Creed’s mother’s dress, just cut, sewn, and transferred. But the styles of our dresses are different. Where Valentina’s dress was more of a trumpet mermaid design with vintage lace, my dress is a tulle long-sleeve gown with the beading and lace embroidery on the bodice from Valentina’s dress, with an illusion bateau neckline and an open back. The skirt cascades in tiers with lace and horsehair trim. The bodice and sleeves of the dress hold the most detail. The tulle veil that’s laying over the chaise is forty-something feet long with mother of pearl sequins that belonged to Creed’s mother during her wedding to Matteo.

  I feel like a princess—like this should not be the life I’m living.

  My long hair was primed and curled to perfection, then braided in a loose braid down my back, leaving errant curled strands framing my face. Between the grooves of the loose braids, the hairdresser added small strings of blue baby’s breath throughout my hair interspersed with white. It’s whimsical and pretty. It was all for something blue.

  The sound of knocking on the dressing room door has my heart skipping and my eyes widening, thinking it’s Creed. When my brother pokes his head inside, I release a sharp gust of breath.

  Thank god.

  Garrett pauses over the threshold with a large box in his hands. I see the emotions transfer across his face. His nostrils flare, and he swallows thickly, trying to contain his emotions. He gently sets the box on the table with the scattered items that have been used on and off all morning. He comes straight toward me, a smile spreading across his cheeks.

  “You look beautiful, Sophia.”

  My chin quivers, and I blow out a sharp breath, trying not to cry. “Thank you, Gar.”

  “You know, you can still turn back now. I don’t think he’d mind.” I see the playful gleam in his eyes, and I roll mine.

  Yeah, not happening.

  “Shut up. I’m more than ready. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”

  “All right then.” He turns back toward the box and hands it to me. “Courtesy of Creed.”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I start untying the ribbon over the pearl white box and I open the lid. The scent of flowers hits me first. Instead of tissue paper covering the contents inside the box, there are flowers. There are white hydrangeas, soft pink and white roses and there are blush peonies. With shaking hands, I carefully dig out the flowers, until I reach the contents below. Pulling out the first box, it’s heavy and black and when I cautiously flip the lid open, I see why.

  Inside the velvet box lays a tiara that looks like it was made for a queen. My hands tremble harder. I can’t wear that. It’s too beautiful. Christ. It’s too…everything.

  My gaze catches on the note beneath the tiara. In such a masculine scrawl that I know as Creed’s handwriting reads a note that says:

  I realize then there’s an attachment on the tiara, and when I glance back at the veil resting across the floor and spread over the chaise, I realize both were Valentina’s, and they’re supposed to be worn together. I finger the jewels along the tiara, trying not to get emotional and ruin my makeup, but it’s an impossible task.

  I can’t believe Creed thought to include this. I get it now; the veil is something old and the crown which I assume was his mother’s, is something borrowed. When I glance up, I see Alexis swipe at her tears as she comes forward to help me with the tiara and the tulle veil. Once she attaches both, she steps back, fluffing the veil, trying to straighten it out as best as she can in here, but the thing is forty feet long, there’s no way that’s happening.

  “Goddamnit,” she laughs, swiping under her eyes again. “Good looking and thoughtful.”

  I laugh, but it sounds more like a choked sob. I can’t seem to control my emotions. This is all so much.

  “Come on, just open the rest before we turn into a blubbering mess.”

  I pull out the last box, and when I open that one, I find a familiar red box, but this one is bigger. Cartier is scrawled across the top, and I unlock the latch before pulling it open. My breath catches at the sight of the white gold diamond encrusted bracelet. I lift it and the dam finally breaks when I see what’s written inside.

  Our Angel 6.28.19

  A gorgeous bracelet dedicated to our son. I shakily pick up the note and read the message scrawled in his masculine writing.

  And I realize he captured them all. Something old, something borrowed, something new and something blue.

  “C’mon, Soph. Don’t cry.”

  I hear my brother say and feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder as he tries to comfort me. As if knowing what I need, Alexis hands me a tissue and helps dab under my eyes, so I don’t ruin my makeup. The hairdresser and makeup artist worked tirelessly to make me this beautiful, I’d hate to ruin it because I was being too sentimental.

  “Okay,” I sniffle. “I’m done. I promise. No more waterworks.” I blow out a breath, still feeling my chin quiver with emotion. “
How much time do we have left?” I ask, turning back toward Garrett. He looks down at his watch and smiles. It’s a real genuine smile. One I haven’t seen in a very long time.

  “None. It’s time.”

  I blow out a harsh breath, my stomach roaring with the force of all the butterflies taking flight at once and I smile. “Let’s do this.”

  Garrett takes my arm through his for support, guiding me out of the room while Alexis and Magdalene straighten the train of my veil behind me, one of them carrying each side. Just beyond the giant wooden doors, I can hear the clamor of voices. I know the church is the most intimate of ceremonies, being only our closest friends and family and the closest members of the famiglias, but that doesn’t stop my heart from threatening to pound its way out of my chest. I tighten my hold on my brother’s arm, trying not to pass out.

  Kristine and her associate stand off to the side, waiting for us. Both the wedding coordinator and the wedding planner. Their headsets are on as they talk to whoever’s on the other side, making demands.

  My brows tug down, and I turn around at the sound of approaching footsteps. There, dressed in another immaculate suit is Matteo, looking as distinguished as ever. His eyes appraise me, and he smiles. I think it’s the first real smile I’ve ever seen him wear.

  “Welcome to the family.”

  I smile back. “Thank you, Matteo.”

  Magdalene loops her arm with his and the event planner guides them to their designated spot in front of the heavy wooden doors leading inside the cathedral. She instructs Lorenzo and Alexis to walk out first then it’ll be Matteo and Magdalene. Even though our wedding is traditional, in a sense, we opted for one best man and one maid of honor in our court. It’s not like I have a huge family and barrage of friends to stand beside me up here. All I really need is my brother and my best friend.

  Creed said he had Angel’s place in the wedding already taken care of, so I tried not to be too sad I wouldn’t get to walk down the aisle with my sweet boy.

  Once I hear the soft notes of a piano drift through the air, the director places a bouquet in my hands then opens the doors and starts ushering out Lorenzo and Alexis, then Matteo and Magdalene. She gives Garrett and I our cue a few seconds after, giving the crowd enough time to focus on each of us. On me. As soon as I step past the doors, across the threshold, my heart explodes. Each pew is filled to the brim with people. My clammy hands grip the bouquet in front of me tightly as two hundred pairs of eyes touch my skin. I feel their gazes on me, but I keep my eyes riveted to the man standing at the top of the marble steps at the altar. The only person I’m ever aware of.

  When Creed took me to St. Mary’s of the Angel’s for the first time to meet Father John, I was in awe. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible it could get any better, but I was wrong. As I watch Creed stand up there, next to the bright lights and heavenly murals, I lose my composure. A bubbling happiness builds in my chest causing tears to spring to my eyes once my gaze lands on our sleeping boy, nestled in his dad’s arms. It’s too cute. It’s all too much.

  With so many incredible men in my life, those two own my entire heart, all of my soul.

  Rays of evening sun shine through the stained-glass windows, and they stop just before his feet, like God decided to put the spotlight on him.

  I squeeze my brother’s arm for strength and continue walking, meeting Creed’s intense gaze. A shiver erupts at the base of my spine. I can’t even breathe as he watches me walk toward him. He looks incredibly handsome in a suit that fits him like it was made for a god. His face is clean shaven, and even though I love the scruff, I love the clean look on him even more—especially right now. I watch the sharp set of his jaw, the way the muscles jump the closer we get. The way his eyes travel down the expanse of my body, taking in the dress. He looks at me like a man head over heels in love, and I’d be lying if that doesn’t make me feel like I’m on top of the world.

  I feel their stares on me. The whispers. The soft hush of voices as I walk down the aisle toward Creed. The man next in line to take over. A mobster. The ghost. My future husband and the father of my child.

  All I see is him.

  All I feel is him in the warm glow of my heart.

  The imprint on my soul.

  A tear slips down my cheek, and a smile spreads across my face as I stare at the man I’m in love with. My equal. My partner. My soulmate.

  Once we get to the steps, I turn into my brother, hugging him so tightly, if he wasn’t such a big guy, I’m sure I would’ve squeezed the life out of him by now.

  Just before we pull away, I whisper, “I love you, big brother Garrett.”

  I hear my brothers sniff and when we pull away, I see the wetness in his eyes. He presses his lips together and nods, seemingly incapable of speech. Turning on my heel, away from my brother, I start up the steps toward Creed and the priest—Father John.

  Creed reaches his hand out to me, and I place mine in his, he helps me up the remaining steps until I’m standing next to him, right in front of the gorgeous altar. Unable to help himself, Creed leans in and kisses me. I fall into him, and a blush paints my cheeks as the guests in the surrounding pews chuckle at our display of affection.

  When he pulls back, our little man stirs and I lean in, pressing a kiss to his little cheek, inhaling his scent. Magdalene is quick to take him from Creed, sitting it the front pew with him while he sleeps. I slip both of my hands in Creed’s and he squeezes reassuringly.

  The mass passes on just like any other would. And because my parents weren’t the most religious, other than baptizing me as a baby, Father John performs my communion and confirmation all in one, before we can enter into the sacrament of marriage.

  The whole time Father John talks, I stare up at Creed, into his gorgeous gray eyes. The glint of silver, like light on chrome is fascinating and filled with so much affection, I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. His lips look like they’re permanently twisted into a smirk as he watches me, his eyes skating across my face, lingering on my lips, gazing into my eyes. Appraising me.

  I commit every detail of this moment to memory. The way he looks, the delicious way he smells, the way his rogue strands of dark black hair are pushed back away from his face. The sharp angular set of his jaw to the way his dark lashes fan across his cheeks. He’s breathtaking. My dark knight. My dark angel.

  I commit all of it to memory, wanting to remember this day, this moment, how he makes me feel for the rest of our lives. But most of all, I want to remember the way he’s looking at me. The way he’s staring at me with such love and adoration in his eyes. There’s a brightness there I’ve never seen before, only when Angel was born. But this is different. His entire demeanor is different, and I love it.

  Creed is staring down at me like I’m the only person in this church, the only woman in the room, the only person on the planet. It’s just me and him. Breathing, living, existing together.

  I tuck all of it away as I profess my love for this man, promising to keep him safe and love him through sickness and in health. And when he says, “I do.” The two words are spoken by a Devil, but his gaze burns like warm honey and whiskey. When he promises to love, to honor, to cherish and to protect me, forsaking all others, I cry. Because this man was what dreams were made of and he’s mine.

  In no time at all, the priest is announcing that Creed can now kiss his bride. He doesn’t disappoint. He leans in, sliding his hands around my neck and bringing my body flush with his. Still towering over me in my heels, he bends down and takes my lips in a kiss that rocks me from top to bottom. It’s a kiss I feel all the way down to my bones. He’s branded himself on my soul, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Diavolo Sabella.” Father John smiles at me, taking my hand in his for a warm shake. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face or the way I lean in, smiling against Creed’s lips for another kiss.

  “I love you, Angel.”
His voice is firm and strong as he says it. Like he’s never been more sure of anything. And neither have I.

  “I love you, too.”

  A wide grin spreads across my face, and its smothered when Creed leans forward, digging his fingers through my immaculately curled and braided hair to kiss me. It’s a promise of forever. It’s a kiss that seals our fates.

  If I thought the mass was beautiful, I wasn’t prepared for the ceremony at the botanical garden. It’s filled with people. I thought the church was packed with guests, but I was wrong. Just outside of the botanical garden, the streets are filled with reporters and photographers, even a few news vans reporting on the event of the year, the marriage of businessman and rumored mafia boss’s son.

  The garden is gorgeous. For all Kristine’s gawking and eye-fucking of my husband, she actually nailed it. It looks even better than the 3D mockups she showed me. With a wide variety of flowers and roses of all kind everywhere—wrapped around the archway, hanging from the suspended platform, crafted into each centerpiece. It’s whimsical with the twinkling lights and it’s so unlike what I would expect Creed to go for. It’s exactly as I envisioned, only a hundred times better.

  We got married with the main theme of roses because it represents us. Our love.

  The church was filled with roses of all kind and colors. My bouquet was red roses. The decorations were blush pink and white roses.

  The archway where we’re going to exchange vows is white and decorated in roses and vines that wrap around the columns. The walkway is decorated with rose petals. The chairs are white and on each end of the aisle with garlands and bouquets of roses attached.