002. Marriage of convenience...

If you're wondering how it all led to this moment, where Roman is staring at the twins with wide eyes and confusion, it’s time to revisit the past. The story that began not with love, but with a fateful marriage of convenience, where neither Roman nor I could have foreseen what would come next.

SEVEN YEARS AGO

"Do you, Ruby Blackwood, take Alpha Roman Wilder D’Angelo as your loving husband...?" The priest's voice echoed in my ears.

My heart skipped a beat as he read out the vows, each word drawing me deeper into a reality I had not chosen.

How did I end up in this situation? Marrying someone I'm meeting for the first time today, a man I know only by reputation—powerful, ruthless, and feared by all.

The truth stung even more because it should have been my cousin, Esperanxa, standing here today, not me.

She was meant to be the one sacrificed as a bride to secure my uncle's alliance with the D’Angelo pack.

"Ruby?" The mention of my name snapped me back to the present. The faces around me blurred, as I realized everyone was waiting for my answer.

I swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in my throat. "I... I do," I managed in a barely audible voice.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. My uncle, standing off to the side with a satisfied smirk, gave a slight nod as if to say, "Good girl."

Roman D’Angelo, soon-to-be my husband in a few minutes' time, stood beside me. He was a tall figure, broad-shouldered and imposing, with a commanding presence that seemed to dwarf everyone around him.

His dark emerald eyes bore into me intensely. I could see the faintest hint of annoyance at the delay, or perhaps he also didn't want to be here.

As the priest continued the ceremony, I stole a glance at my uncle. He stood among the guests, his face alight with triumph. He had orchestrated this entire mess.

For him, I was just a pawn, a means to an end—a way to solidify his own power within the pack. His gaze met mine, and he gave a slight nod, reminding me of what was at stake should I refuse to comply.

"By the power vested in me," the priest's voice boomed, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Roman turned to face me fully. For a moment, everyone seemed to hold their breath. He lifted the veil from my face, his expression still hard, but his eyes—those dark, stormy eyes—searched mine for something, perhaps a hint of rebellion or fear.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

Then, in a move so swift I barely had time to react, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. It was a mere formality, a cold, distant gesture that spoke volumes. This was not a union born of love or even mutual respect.

It was a transaction, a binding contract sealed with a kiss. His lips were cool against mine, and the kiss was over as quickly as it began, leaving behind a chilling emptiness.

A round of applause filled the air as if in approval of this facade. I caught sight of my aunt in the crowd, trying hard to pretend shs was happy.

She was the only one against this. She had tried to intervene, to speak out against my uncle's orders, but her voice was powerless against his iron will.

As we turned to face the crowd, Roman's hand slid around my waist, and I flinched at the contact in reflex. His grip tightened slightly, a silent warning to maintain the facade.

"Smile," he muttered under his breath, low enough for only me to hear. "You’re the Luna now."

I forced a smile, my cheeks aching with the effort. The crowd seemed satisfied, but beneath the surface, I could feel the tension rippling through.  

As Roman led me down the aisle, his grip around my waist remained firm as if reminding me that I was trapped. We walked through the crowd as husband and wife, even though we barely know each other. 

The hall, lit by chandeliers and filled with the scent of rich food and wine, felt cold and empty. Everything looked perfect, but nothing felt right.

When we reached the grand table, Roman released his hold on me and quickly excused himself. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he moved toward the bar. A few of his pack members stood nearby, their eyes flickering between us, curious but too respectful to comment.

"Alpha," one of them murmured, bowing slightly as Roman passed by. He ignored them, his entire focus shifting to the rows of bottles behind the bar.

I watched him for a moment, feeling a strange knot of resentment coil in my stomach. It wasn’t personal for him—he didn’t even care enough to hate me. I was just an obligation, another pawn in his world of power and dominance. 

I, too, had become numb to these kinds of games, but tonight, the weight of everything—my father's death, my uncle’s schemes, this sham of a marriage—settled heavily on my chest.

"Can I get you anything, Luna?" a server asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I almost flinched at the title. Luna. Roman had thrown that word at me like a weapon, reminding me of my new role. But there was no power in this title, only chains.

"Wine," I answered, barely recognizing my own voice. "The strongest you have."

I could feel the curious eyes of Roman’s pack and my family on me as I accepted the glass. 

The red liquid swirled, mirroring my tangled emotions. The glass was cool against my fingers, and I took a long sip, hoping the alcohol would dull the sharp edges of reality.

As the night dragged on, the guests around us laughed and mingled, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. Roman had downed several drinks by now, his gaze distant, as though he’d already checked out of this miserable evening.

I followed suit, feeling the alcohol warm my veins, numbing the tight knot of anxiety in my chest. If I drank enough, maybe I could forget for just one night that this wasn’t my life, that this wasn’t my choice. 

Maybe I could imagine that somewhere, in a different world, I was free.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but at some point, I found myself wandering through the hallways of Roman’s mansion. The walls seemed to close in on me. My head was spinning, and my vision was blurred from the wine, but I kept moving, my feet carrying me aimlessly.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned, only to see Roman, equally unsteady on his feet, coming toward me. His eyes were dark and unfocused, but there was something in them that made me pause.

"What are you doing here?" He slurred, his voice thick with alcohol.

"I… I don’t know," I whispered, unsure if I was talking to him or myself. "I don’t even know how I got here."

We stood there, staring at each other in the dimly lit hallway like two drunk strangers. Roman’s gaze flickered over me, and for a moment, I saw something other than the cold indifference that had defined him all night.

"You look..." His words trailed off as he closed the distance between us, his breath warm and smelling faintly of whiskey. "Different."

Before I could react, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and suddenly the air between us felt electric. I could feel my heart racing, the wine in my system making everything hazy and distant. 

Without thinking, I stepped closer to him, the heat of his body drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

We were too drunk, too lost in our own misery, to think clearly. The tension that had been simmering all night finally broke, and in a blur of movement, Roman’s lips were on mine. 

The kiss was fierce and desperate—a clash of two people trying to escape the prison of their own lives. I tasted the alcohol on his breath, felt the roughness of his hands as they tangled in my hair, pulling me closer.

I didn’t push him away. I didn’t want to. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t thinking. I was just feeling—anger, loneliness, desire—all of it crashing into me at once.

We stumbled into one of the nearby rooms, the door slamming shut behind us as the heat between us intensified. Clothes were discarded, thoughts forgotten, and for a brief moment, it was just us—two broken people seeking solace in each other.

***************

The sun's early light filtered through the curtains, casting soft rays across the bed. My head throbbed, and my mouth felt dry as sand. The scent of leather and wood lingered in the air.

 I shifted slightly and froze. The bed was too big, too unfamiliar. 

And… I wasn’t alone.

A groan came from beside me. I turned my head slowly, dread pooling in my stomach as I saw Roman lying there, his arm draped over his forehead, eyes still closed. His bare chest rose and fell in steady breaths. 

Panic surged through me as the memories of last night came flooding back.

Before I could move, Roman’s eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light. He stared at me for a long, silent moment, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?"