Page 46 of Hate Mates

I want to scream, to tell them all I refuse. But I can’t, I have to do this for Serefina and what is left of my family. This isn’t just about me.It never was. My heart pounds, anger and despair colliding in my chest as I force myself to look at Dominic.

If I’m going down, I’ll take him with me.

FIVE

Dominic

The weight of expectation settles over me, heavy like an anchor as I stand at the altar, my eyes trained on the statue of Christ hanging above us on the wall. The grandeur of the room is suffocating, the air thick with perfume and candle smoke.

I can feel everyone in the room watching, wondering why it’s me standing up here and not Salvatore. Their whispers reverberate around the room. I resist the urge to yank at the stiff collar of my tuxedo. Thankfully, they haven’t made me wear Salvatore’s, not that it would have fit. Besides, it looks like I only get his hand-me-downs when it comes to women—one woman in particular.

My eyes drop to the front row, seeking out Izzy. Her lips are curled in an amused smirk before she mouths, ‘Could you look any more uncomfortable?’. I narrow my eyes, shifting my attention away from her and to my mother sitting beside her.

I haven’t been let out of her sight since Salvatore announced my fate. It’s like they thought I would disappear given the chance. Maybe I would have if I were a weaker man.But I don’trun. Instead, I’m standing here, with the weight of my family’s future pressing down on my chest like an iron fist.

A string quartet plays a melody I don’t recognize, their music weaving through the church. The room falls quiet, and every head turns toward the entrance.

Caterina.

My soon-to-be wife.

Like a ghost, she glides through the open doors. Her gown is a lace and silk creation, clinging to her body before spilling into a sweeping train from her knees down. The fabric shifts like liquid gold under the light. A veil cascades down her back and a few loose strands of her dark hair frame her face. From here, she looks untouchable and every bit the perfect bride.

But just like this wedding, it’s a facade she is putting on for her audience.

If they took even a second to look closer, they’d see what I see. Like how her hands clutch her bouquet too tightly, how her back is straight, and each step she takes is measured, as if she’s forcing herself to stay put together.

Her gaze doesn’t meet mine as she walks the length of the aisle, but as she comes to a stop in front of me and lifts her amber-flecked brown eyes to mine, I see the ire simmering in the depths. I smirk, because I know that she despises this as much as I do and that makes me hate it a little less.

The officiant begins speaking, but his words barely register. He drones on about unity, the sacred bond of marriage, and the merging of two families. We all know that this is a transaction, wrapped up in lace and gold. When he turns to me, the room stills, anticipation pulsing in the air.

“Do you, Dominic Rafael Marchetti, take Caterina Liliana De Luca to be your lawfully wedded wife, to honor and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

I let the silence that follows his question stretch. A murmur ripples through the guests and my mother groans in frustration. Even the officiant looks uncertain, his gaze flicking between me and Caterina.

She looks up at me, her fingers turning white as she clasps them in front of herself, now that she no longer has her bouquet to hold. Like everyone here, she’s waiting for me to say the words that will bind me to her. The ones that will mean there is no turning back from this.

I refuse to.

Instead, I step closer to her, lowering my voice so only she can hear as I slide the delicate white gold wedding band onto her finger. “I vow…” I pause, leaning back slightly and reveling in the way her pupils blow wide. “To remind you that this isn’t a love story, but a war. I promise to make your life a living hell and laugh while doing it. And above all, I vow to make sure that the anger you feel right now stays, eating you alive until you take your dying breath.”

Her breath hitches and her lips part before she clamps them shut. For a moment she doesn’t move, but then I see the resolve seep into her body as she forces herself to regain control. Her eyes scream at me, a silent promise of retribution swimming in her gaze.

Returning to my position, I stare at the officiant expectantly, urging him to continue. He fumbles slightly, clearing his throat before turning to Caterina. “And do you, Caterina Liliana De Luca, take Dominic Rafael Marchetti, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to honor and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

As she slides the heavy gold band onto my finger, she might as well be holding a knife to my throat. Her voice betrays nothing when she says, “I do.”

Game on, princess.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her into me. She stiffens for a second, but I don’t pay it any mind. My lips crash against hers and there is nothing soft or loving about the union.

She’s angry, I can taste it.

When her lips part, I take advantage, sweeping my tongue between them and deepening the kiss. She stiffens, then releases a barely there whimper, but enough for me to call it a victory. The guests erupt into applause, but it’s a distant murmur, drowned out by the pulse roaring in my ears.

The kiss lasts a second too long. It lingers just enough to blur the lines between obligation and something else.Something dangerous. Then, just as suddenly, it's over.

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