Page 9 of His Bride

“You look beautiful cara,” My mother nods enthusiastically.

I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel like myself.

“It’s perfect,” I say softly, running my hands over the intricate beadwork. " It makes me feel like me. This is the one.”

Valentina grins, grabbing a delicate veil from a nearby rack. “Now, let’s see how we can jazz this up even more.”

She drapes the veil over my head, adjusting it carefully. “Perfect.”

Smiling, I look at my mother for support. “Indeed. This is your dress.”

The bridal consultant clears her throat softly. “Shall we discuss the purchase, then?”

I hesitate for a split second but harden my resolve.

“Yes,” I say firmly.

The saleswoman beams. “Excellent choice, Ms. Moretti. Your fiancé will be stunned.”

I think of Dante’s cold eyes, his cunning gaze.

“That’s the plan,” I reply, picturing his face when he sees me walking down that aisle.

Let him think he’s won. I may be a pawn in this game, but I refuse to be a helpless one.

Chapter Four

Adriana

I take another step, my heart thundering against my ribs. The aisle stretches before me, an endless expanse of white petals and expectant faces. But I see only him.

Dante.

He stands at the altar, dark and imposing in his tailored tuxedo. His piercing eyes, lock onto mine. I falter, nearly stumbling over my dress but my father’s iron grip keeps up.

Breathe, Adriana. Just breathe.

My father steps aside when we reach the altar. Dante extends his hand, and I have no choice but to take it. His touch sears my skin, sending shivers through my body. I fight to keep my expression neutral, to not reveal the war raging inside me.

“You look gorgeous,” Dante speaks, his voice a low rumble that only I can hear.

I swallow hard. “Thank you.”

His thumb strokes my palm, a gesture that’s both possessive and oddly tender. I want to pull away, to run as far as I can. But I’m rooted to the spot, caught in his magnetic pull.

The priest begins to speak, his words echoing through the grand hall. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

I try to focus, but my mind is a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t how my life was supposed to go. I’m an artist, for god’s sake. I create worlds of fantasy and romance, not… this. Not a marriage built on deals and threats.

And yet…

Dante’s eyes never leave mine, even as the priest drones on about love and commitment. There’s hunger in his gaze, a predatory gleam that makes me shiver.

“Do you, Dante Rossi, take Adriana Moretti to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest asks him.

Dante’s voice is strong, and unwavering. “I do.”

The weight of those two words settles over me like a shroud. This is real. This is happening.

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