The Don's Runaway Bride

Today is the worst day of my life!

Maybe I should rephrase that. Today is one of the worst days of my life. Because I’m very certain that with my present predicament, there will be days worse than this.

As the Mayor’s smart-ass daughter and the youngest professor in De-Queens College, I was popular among my peers and well-celebrated. When I got the opportunity to share my thoughts about the struggles our dear town was facing in a four-page journal, I poured out my heart, focusing my writing on the ‘one man’ I shouldn’t have talked about.

The journal got flagged down, of course, and its publication halted indefinitely. But the damage had been done, and unknown to me, the man I wrote about was worse than I thought and he neither forgives, nor does he forget.

Pietro Eppolito is the devil that has tormented our city for the longest. He is a beast, a demon, even. Ruthless, merciless, bloody, monstrous. He kills for a living and he has turned our city into his den and my father, the Mayor of Queensland, his puppet.

Writing a journal about Pietro’s evil in Queensland was a wrong decision I made. I thought I was doing the right thing for my father, not until he informed me that a marriage to Pietro was the only way to take back everything I said and clear his image.

My puppet-father wants me to marry Pietro Eppolito and as it seems, I have no choice in the matter!

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CHAPTER 1

ARIA’S POV (2 WEEKS AGO)

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My father and I sat in his home office when Pietro Eppolito barged in. He walked over to the edge of the room and took a seat.

The accusing glare I threw at my father didn’t seem to affect him. His body language clearly showed his terror.

With the devil himself now present, my father explained the reason we were summoned. It turned out to be about a union between me and Pietro Eppolito. I was utterly disappointed that my father would even propose such.

“What about my dreams?” I yelled at him. “You don’t care about my dreams anymore?”

“You need to get married, Aria.” My Dad replied.

“And you think it has to be to this man?” I pointed at Pietro, feeling too brave.

“He can take care of you. What else do you want?”

“What is wrong with you?” I snapped at my father and caught a lazy yawn from the devil. “Haven’t you asked around? Surely you know who this man is and what he’s capable of doing. Don’t you?”

My father hung his head in sheer pain. “It’s not up to me; I can’t stop him. The deed is done.”

It dawned on me now. I didn’t have any choice in the matter. That selfish, narcissistic prick had me cornered, and he must have threatened my father with something to get him to do his bidding.

I spared another look at Pietro and caught him staring at me. “He’s right,” Pietro said. “There’s no way out of this.”

Heat splashed across my cheeks. Then I turned to my father to plead my case again, but the man shook his head. “It’s been finalized.”

A surge of outrage overtook me. “You can’t be serious!” But my father stared blankly at me. “You’re the Mayor, surely you can stop this disaster from happening.”

He shook his head. “He promised to be faithful while you’re still...”

“What are you saying, Dad?” I cut him off. “I don’t understand.” I continued and turned to Pietro. “Why are you doing this? I have a job; I have plans for myself, and I have dreams. You can’t do this to me.” I tried reasoning with him. “Please don’t do this,” my voice wobbled. “Please...”

Pietro stood up and stepped closer to me. A look in my father’s direction had the older man scrambling out of his home office. Then he turned his full attention to me.

“If you were asking for anything other than not marrying me, believe me, with the way you’re begging, I would have moved heaven and earth to make it happen for you. But this-this marriage... It’s already done.” He stated.

A sob crawled up my throat, but I swallowed it before any tears could fall. “I can’t do this,” I said truthfully. “Not with you.”

I felt his mood blacken in an instant, like a rolling storm. “Why?” He asked me.

I shook my head, refusing to talk. “Why!” He yelled at me.

“You... you’re a criminal. You murder people in cold blood. You treat women like trash. You hurt people.” I would have kept talking if he hadn’t pushed me back and pinned me to the wall. “I won’t marry you,” I persisted.

“You will.” He said with so much certainty. “I’m okay with dragging you down the aisle while you scream your lungs out, if that’s what it’s going to take. In fact, I might just prefer it.”

“You want to humiliate me,” I stated.

“No, I want to break you.” My heart wanted to explode, and my lips started trembling.

“He is a cancer in the community, so much so that if the world is facing an apocalypse, we’d have to pray he isn’t one of the people to help us. Because I wouldn’t advise anyone to accept his help, even in such a dire situation.” Pietro quoted a paragraph from the journal I wrote. “You wrote this about me without even meeting me in person.” He whispered in my ear. “You have my full attention now, Tesorina.” He added.

“No,” I shook my head. “I don’t want your attention.” I insisted, my eyes tracking his tongue as it darted out to moisten his lips. “I’d rather throw myself in front of a moving van than marry you.”

He chuckled, “Dramatic,” he said. “You’ll eat your words soon.”

I was less than a foot away from him now and I didn’t notice he was cornering and trapping me with no escape until it became too late. He brought his face down until we were mere inches apart. My breath hitched, and my heartbeat started racing, galloping.

“Now tell me,” he started, “do you really hate me?”

I was breathless, and while I was battling with an answer, he leaned in and kissed my collarbone. A groan escaped my lips, shocking me. His hand came up to cup the other side of my face, then slid into my hair. He gripped it and pulled my head to one side, giving him better access to my neck.

Then he ran his nose up the expanse of my throat, leaving me panting, breathless. His hand slid underneath my top and made contact with the skin of my stomach. The contact was barely a graze, and I felt so sensitive, fragile almost, because of it.

He curled a hand around my waist, fingers digging into my skin, pulling me closer against him.

“Look at you, Tesorina.” He murmured, “I’m barely touching you.” His fingers teased the skin at the hem of my jeans. “And you’re a whimpering mess.”

That was when I realized how much I was shaking, and I was even clinging to him like I was drowning and he was my lifeguard or lifeboat. That was also when I realized my eyes were shut and my lips were parted.

Embarrassed, I tried pushing him away, but he refused to budge or let me go. Instead, he pressed me against his body until I felt his erection against my stomach. My eyes flew open to find him staring down at me with a dark, erotic look on his face.

“You’re aching for me.” He said, “You’re arching into me, you want me?” His voice was ragged with his arousal. “We’re going to get married.” He stated.

“No...” I let out.

“Yes, Aria Kostas. If not, I will wipe away everyone you care about, starting from your dear father.” He added, flashing me an evil smile. “I’m a criminal, after all.”

He repeated my words and walked away, leaving me in a total erotic mess.