Page 10 of Declan

The ceremony room is a battlefield dressed in white and red, every seat filled with witnesses to what is supposed to be the happiest day of my life as if this is anything more than a fucking transaction—a merging of power draped in a thin veil of tradition.I don’t believe in the sanctity of marriage anymore. I believe in control. And this marriage will solidify mine.

Kian leans in, muttering under his breath, “You reckon she’ll show?”

“She’ll show,” I reply, my eyes fixed on the grand doors at the end of the aisle. Viviana isn’t the type to run, no matter how much she hates this. She’s too proud, too defiant. And she bloody well knows what’s at stake.

Connor stands on my other side, his posture relaxed, though I see the tension in his jaw. “If she pulls something, are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

I smirk, not bothering to hide the anticipation building inside me. “I’m counting on it.”

The low hum of conversation among the guests suddenly drops to a murmur, then silence, as the music starts and the doors creak open. Every head turns, and there she is.

Viviana.

I’d prepared for her to make a scene, maybe even try to humiliate me. But this? This is something else. She stands there, framed by the massive doors, in a dress as black as night. A bride in mourning. A woman walking to her funeral. That little vixen.

Gasps and whispers ripple through the guests, the shock palpable. But all I can do is smile—a slow, satisfied smile, part admiration, part triumph. This is a move meant to shock, to rebel, to make it clear she’s doing this on her terms, not mine.

Perfect.

She starts down the aisle, her steps measured and deliberate, her eyes locked on me. That smile on her lips says,You may think you’ve won, but this is far from over.

Kian chuckles softly beside me. “Got to hand it to her. She knows how to make a fucking entrance.”

“Yeah,” Connor adds, his voice low, “but she also looks like she’s about to bury you instead of marry you.”

“Let her try,” I mutter, my gaze never leaving hers.

Viviana reaches the front, her head held high, defiance radiating from every inch of her. She stands there with her best friend, Selma Costa Nova, strong and more than a little pissed off.

Selma moves to her side, giving the boys and me a death glare before turning away as Kian meets her gaze.

Good.

The priest clears his throat, clearly unsettled by the tension crackling in the air. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

His words fade into the background as Viviana and I lock our eyes. The room, the people, the ceremony—it all blurs into insignificance. This is about us: power, control, and a battle that has only just begun.

As the priest drones on, I reach out and take her hand. The tension beneath her skin is palpable, and her anger is barely held in check. Her grip is firm—a silent declaration of war.

And I can’t wait to fight it.

The vows are spoken, and the rings are exchanged. I know one thing for sure: this isn’t just about taming her. This is about proving to her—and everyone—that no matter how hard she fights me, I’ll always be one step ahead. I will control her. Bend her. I’ll be the one to finally have a hand on Viviana Morelli.

When the priest declares us husband and wife, I don’t hesitate. I pull her close, gripping her waist firmly to remind her who’s in charge and kiss her. It isn’t gentle. It isn’t sweet.

It’s a clash of wills, a battle for dominance played out in front of every single person in this room. My lips claim hers, my tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She smells of jasmine and spice, intoxicating and infuriating all at once.

She doesn’t yield—not in the kiss, not in the way her body remains stiff against mine. But she doesn’t pull away, either.

When I release her, her eyes blaze with fire, her breath quick and shallow. That smirk is still there.

I think I’m going to hate that bloody smirk of hers.

Flynn Brady, my best friend since high school, is the first to stand and applaud, a grin splitting his face.

“You’ll pay for this,” she whispers, her voice low enough for only me to hear.

I smile, dark and full of promise. “Bring it, wife,” I murmur against her ear.

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