Page 18 of His Bride

My stomach clenches. I remember the wedding day, the sea of unfamiliar faces, Dante’s family among them. Cold eyes and tight smiles.

“Oh,” I manage, my voice small. “That’s… nice.”

Dante’s eyes narrow slightly. Can he sense my unease? I force a smile, but my hands tremble as I reach for my coffee cup.

“It’ll be fine,” he says.

I take a sip of coffee, letting the bitter liquid coat my tongue. It does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. The thought of facing Dante’s family again, of trying to find my place in this dangerous new world, fills me with dread.

But I’m Dante’s wife now. I have to be strong. I have to adapt. Even if every instinct screams at me to run.

A shrill ring cuts through the silence. Dante’s phone. His face hardens as he answers, all traces of softness vanishing.

“What?” he barks. The sudden shift in his demeanor makes me flinch.

I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Dante’s voice drops to a menacing growl. “Fix it. Now. Or I’ll fix you Marco.”

My blood runs cold. This is the man I married – not the one who kisses me gently or asks about me how I am settling in, but the underboss of the Rossi crime family. A man who can order death with a single word.

Dante abruptly stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “I have business to attend to,” he says, his tone clipped.

Before I can respond, he’s at my side, bending down. His lips brush mine, soft, a stark contrast to the ice in his eyes. The kiss is brief but intense.

A soft cough startles me. I turn to see Sofia in the doorway, her face impassive as always. Heat rushes to my cheeks. How long has she been there?

Dante straightens, giving Sofia a curt nod before striding out of the room. The door slams behind him, leaving me alone with the housekeeper and my whirlwind thoughts.

I retreat to my office, desperate for the comfort of familiar surroundings. The webtoon panels spread across my drawing tablet offer a welcome distraction. I lose myself in the lines and colors, the fantastical world so far removed from my own.

After an hour, I reach for my phone. I need to hear a friendly voice.

“Rachel? It’s me,” I say when my editor picks up. “Can we talk about the latest chapter?”

The day slips away as I immerse myself in work, but anxiety gnaws at the edges of my mind. As evening approaches, my stomach twists into knots. I stand before the full-length mirror, scrutinizing my reflection in black lace lingerie.

A creak of the door. My heart stutters.

Dante’s reflection appears behind me, his eyes roaming over my exposed skin. He moves with predatory grace, each step deliberate. I’m frozen, caught between fear and a traitorous spark of desire.

“Sexy,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

I instinctively reach for my robe on the bed. “Dante, I—”

“Don’t.” His command cuts through the air. “Keep your hands at your sides.”

I obey, pulse racing. His fingers ghost along my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He grasps my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze in the mirror.

“I have half a mind to cancel dinner,” Dante growls. “To keep you here and fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

My cheeks burn. “But your family—”

“Can wait.” His lips caress my neck. “You’re my wife. My priority.”

I tremble, torn between duty and the heat pooling in my core. “We can’t disappoint them,” I respond, unsure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.

I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice. “It… it wouldn’t be right,” I stammer, my face burning hotter. “They’ve prepared this dinner especially to meet me. We can’t just… not show up.”

Dante’s eyes darken, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Always so proper,” he says, his fingers trailing down my spine. “But tell me, cara, don’t you want to be a good sister-in-law?”

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