"If I have to sit with another Moretti again in the next year, I'll kill the fucking lot myself," Leonardo grumbles from the sofa that's flushed against my office WALL by the door.
For once I didn’t blame my brother for his bad mood. Leonardo liked to complain. Most of the time it was a complaint not warranted but today was that odd occasion where it was more than warranted.
"It was negotiations! They're over! Today we'll meet our stubborn brother’s future bride and possible future end, blah blah blah." Anya makes a wavy notion with her fingers as she turns to face us.
"Camilla sounds like a Cruella or Druzella! It doesn't scream Cinderella or Belle," Anya points out, as her black dress kisses my carpet when she spins to face me.
“More like the evil witch from Snow White.”
“Touché, didn’t know that you watched that sort of thing,” Anya mentions with a chagrin smile.
“You know I watch that shit with Mischa.”
“Keep telling everyone else that, maybe they’d believe the lame excuse but we both know you watch it alone.” Anya can be royal bitch when she wants to.
“Anya,” I say with little to no effort in my voice.
“Back to what we were initially discussing before we were Disney interrupted. Yes, your future wife is a royal bitch, full stop no pun intended.”
"And that's a bad thing?" I query from my sister who was no Teressa.
"Yes! Marco, this is an awful idea. You’re marrying a woman you've never met?"
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