Little terror

Zoe

Largota, the most beautiful country in the world. It is known to the world as the mafia state. No sane country dares do business with us. Our ample natural resources are the only reason we are not in recession. The rich are filthy rich and poor, a sad sight to witness. 

Heartless, bloodthirsty hotheads of criminals rule this once beautiful country. The only resume required to be a minister now is murderous psychopathic tendencies. 

It’s simple to get to the top really. Ruthless, life-daring, brave and stupid. Take out the monster ahead of you and wallah, you are the minister. Watch your back though because you are game to another blood-thirsty monster as yourself. 

That is why I and many citizens don’t know all our ministers. They change faster than seasons. Our presidential elections are worse than a horror movie to say the least. Heavily armed, lower in rank monsters go from door to door to get your vote. More like force it. I don’t know why they even bother with the fraud elections. The one with deeper pockets and more firepower becomes the president anyway. 

The question is why the most beautiful country in the world turned out this way? 

Greed. 

Every country has greedy people, we seem to have multitudes of them. Maybe we all are but differ in degrees. 

Anyway, Largota is home and today is the happiest day of my life. I am marrying Brad Harvey. The third sexiest man in the country and CEO of Harvey industries. Rumours are the Harvey wealth is worth billions. Brad’s father is the president’s best friend and the current minister of defence. His older brother the minister of police and about everyone in that family besides Brad is in the parliament. Brad is the youngest, sexy as hell  and the only one single. 

It’s no wonder that every girl out there wants him. I still wonder why he chose me. Don’t get me wrong, I have no self-esteem issues. Quite the opposite really. I am quite comfortable in my own skin. I have earned my spot in different front page magazines, but still. There are girls who look better than me. Whose families are wealthier and more suitable to be his wife than me. 

I am told that my family was wealthier back when this country had order. Back when the monarch ruled Largota. We might have been nobles, but we lost most of that wealth when the royal family and many others were slaughtered in a coup. Dan and I were too young when that happened. All I know is that we lost Mother and Father does not talk about it. 

Anyway, I was not even looking for a man when I met Brad. I had plans that did not feature a man, husband or family. 

Our small company had business with his. I happened to meet him when I stood in for my brother who was ill that day. He relentlessly pursued me until I agreed to dinner. Things quickly spiralled out of control after that. Four months later, here I am about to wed him. 

I sit in front of a massive mirror in my guest bedroom at the prestigious Harvey hotel. 

A million dollar dress to die for, check.

Shoes I will probably never wear again, check.

Bouquet, check.

Something new, check. Something borrowed, check and something blue, check. 

I look at my reflection on the massive mirror, give myself a pat and shrug my shoulders. Everything looks perfect, but I can’t get over the feeling that I am forgetting something. 

Yes, pocket semiautomatic handgun. It’s the most valuable toy I own. I strap it tightly on my thigh. I don’t go anywhere without it. Not many women arm up on their wedding day, but none of them are me. I have seen and survived too many close encounters to be naive. 

I hear a knock before the door knob turns and Dan, my big brother and only sibling walks in. Tall, dark and gorgeous. He looks like a million bucks in that tuxedo. 

“Should you not let a professional handle that on your big day?” he asks, while curiously watching me apply makeup and lip gloss. 

“I don’t need a makeup or a professional to make me pretty, brother. Drop-dead gorgeous is my second name.” 

I giggle at his reaction before planting a kiss on his cheek. 

“You are in a good mood. Do you really love him?” he asks with a frown.

“We could always smuggle you out if you are pressured,” he adds with a hushed voice and I can’t help but laugh. No sane person turns down the proposal from the Harvey’s here. That is severely punished. Running out on them is deadly. My big brother would do anything for me, no matter how dangerous. 

Dan also knows all about my plans that did not involve getting married. He thinks I am forced into this marriage, hence his suggestion. 

“I have my reservations about the rest of the Harvey’s but Brad is different. He listens to my views. He respects my opinion and has no objections to me pursuing my dreams. He treats me like a princess.”

Dan exhales loudly, clearly relieved and plays with my hair loc. 

“If you can, convince him to move out of the Harvey estate. Too many dodgy things are happening there. I don’t want you involved.”

“Oh, I plan to and Brad has already agreed. We will move out immediately when we return from our honeymoon.”

My brother’s face lights up before I get squeezed into a hug. 

“In that case, congratulations, Princess.”

I am still basking in my brother’s embrace when the piano plays a beautiful tune from the hall. My cue to come out and take a leap of fate. 

Dan picks up mother’s vail from the bed and clips it on my hair before offering me his hand, which I gladly accept.

“Let’s get you hitched then, princess,” he says before the door opens and father walks in. Tall, dark, with an aura that commands respect. Derrick Maloy, is now fifty-five years old, all greyed out but still so handsome. I am told that back in the days women melted at his sight. Just like they do with my brother who is his exact copy. 

I don’t really know what he feels about my wedding. He has not said much since my very well publicised engagement. He is not a man of many words but still, not even a congratulations precious. 

“You look just like your mother.” 

His fists involuntarily clenches to stop his hand from shaking or punching something. It has been sixteen years since mother’s murder but father is yet to heal. We all do.

“It’s okay, Father. She loves him,” Dan blurts out. 

Father curiously lifts his eyebrow and squints his eyes at me. Did he also think I was forced into this?

“He listens and respects her opinion, treats her like a princess and agreed to move out of the Harvey estate,” Dan relates our earlier conversation. 

The corners of my father’s lips curl into a smile before he chuckles and plants a kiss on my forehead while I roll my eyes at them. 

“You two could have just told me about your worries. You should know by now that no man can ever force me into marriage.”

Strangely, that has happened before and these two know how I handled that bastard. I have never been a damsel. 

“Noted, little terror.”

They both laugh and lead me out. They call me that because I was apparently very difficult to control growing up. It did not make it easier that there was no other woman around because father never married nor dated after our mother’s death.