The wedding

Evelyn

The church was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl, like the calm before a storm. I stood at the altar, my hands trembling as I clutched the bouquet of white roses. They were beautiful, but they felt heavy in my hands like they were made of stone instead of petals.

I glanced around the empty pews, my stomach twisting into knots. There was no one here to witness this farce of a wedding. No friends. No family. Just me, the priest, and the man who was about to become my husband.

Alessio stood beside me, his presence overwhelming. He was dressed in a black suit that fit him like it had been tailored by the devil himself. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on the priest as if this were just another business transaction. And maybe it was. To him, this wasn't a wedding. It was a deal. A contract. And I was the price.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice echoing through the empty church. I barely heard the words. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of how I'd ended up here. Just a week ago, I'd been planning my escape from this life. I'd been dreaming of a future where I could leave the mafia world behind and start over somewhere far away. But now, those dreams felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn't been sold to a man like Alessio Romano.

"Do you, Evelyn Moretti, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked, pulling me back to the present.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My throat was dry, my tongue heavy. I glanced at Alessio, searching for some sign of hesitation, some hint that this was as hard for him as it was for me. But his expression didn't change. He just stared at me, waiting.

"I..." I started my voice barely above a whisper. But before I could finish, Alessio interrupted.

"She does," he said, his voice firm and final.

The priest nodded as if that were enough and turned to Alessio. "And do you, Alessandro Romano, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Alessio said without hesitation.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. This was really happening. There was no going back.

The priest pronounced us husband and wife, and Alessio turned to me, his expression unreadable. "You may kiss the bride," the priest said, but Alessio didn't move. He just stared at me, his dark eyes boring into mine.

For a moment, I thought he might refuse. That he might turn and walk away, leaving me standing there like a fool. But then he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was cold and impersonal. It was over almost as soon as it began, but it left me feeling hollow like something inside me had been ripped away.

The reception, if you could call it one, was held in a dimly lit banquet hall at the back of the church. A single table had been set up, with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. There was no music. No laughter. No celebration. Just silence.

I sat down at the table, my hands clenched in my lap. Alessio took the seat across from me, his movements calm and deliberate. He poured himself a glass of champagne and took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You're not going to drink?" he asked, his tone casual, as if this were a normal wedding.

I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak. I didn't trust myself to say anything without screaming.

Alessio shrugged and set his glass down. "Suit yourself."

We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I wanted to ask him why he'd done this. Why he'd chosen me. But I was afraid of the answer. Afraid of what it might mean.

Finally, Alessio broke the silence. "You'll move into my estate tonight," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Your things have already been taken there."

I stared at him, my heart pounding. "You went through my things?"

"Of course," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I needed to make sure you weren't hiding anything."

"Like what?" I demanded, my voice rising. "A weapon? A secret plan to escape?"

He smirked, but there was no humour in it. "Something like that."

I wanted to scream. To throw something at him. But I knew it wouldn't do any good. He was in control now, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

As we left the banquet hall, Alessio paused at the door and turned to me. "One more thing," he said, his voice, low and dangerous. Remember, "Don't think about running. If you do, I'll make sure your father pays the price."

And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing there with the weight of his words pressing down on me. My future life is no longer my own. And the worst part? There's no one to call for help.