Becoming his Mafia Barbie

wedding chains

Three days. Seventy-two hours of being trapped in Dominic Castellano's penthouse while his army of wedding planners turned my life into a circus. I stood in front of a full-length mirror, drowning in white silk and lace I never chose.

"You look beautiful, Miss Martinez," the wedding planner gushed, clasping her hands together like she'd just made a miracle.

I glared at my reflection. "I look like a mafia Barbie."

The planner flinched, clearly unsure how to respond. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it when the door creaked open.

"Now, now, that's no way for a bride to talk," Sofia Castellano, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, swept into the room like she owned it. Which, technically, she did. Her sharp heels clicked against the marble floor as she dismissed the wedding planner with a wave of her manicured hand. "Everyone out! I need a moment with my future daughter-in-law."

Once we were alone, she circled me like a hawk sizing up its prey. Her perfume was so overpowering I felt dizzy. "The dress is perfect. Though your attitude could use some adjustment."

"Sorry, I left my 'happy hostage' face in my other purse," I muttered.

"Funny." She wasn’t laughing. Her sharp eyes bore into me, cutting away at my defiance. "Listen carefully, girl. My son could have killed your father. Instead, he's making you a Castellano. Do you know how many women would kill for that honor?"

"Honor?" I spun to face her, the lace skirt swishing against my legs. "He's forcing me to marry him!"

"He's saving your family," she said, her voice sharp with condescension. "There are worse fates than marrying a wealthy, powerful man who's clearly fascinated by you."

"Fascinated?" I scoffed, my voice rising. "He's a control freak with a God complex!"

The door creaked open again, and this time, the devil himself stepped in. "Mother, I need a moment with my bride."

I panicked, holding up a hand. "No! It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

Dominic’s voice was amused. "Since when do you care about wedding traditions?" He walked in anyway, ignoring my protests. He was dressed in a crisp black tuxedo, the fit tailored to perfection. I hated how he looked like he belonged at the altar, while I felt like an unwilling prop in his twisted play.

Sofia smirked knowingly and patted my cheek. "Behave, dear, my son his ruthless" she said before walking majestically out of the room, leaving me alone with him.

"What do you want?" I snapped, crossing my arms over the bodice of the dress.

"To give you this." He held out a small black velvet box. Inside was a diamond necklace so breathtaking it almost made me forget who was holding it. Almost.

"I don’t want your blood money jewelry," I said coldly, stepping away.

"Put it on, Valentina," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding.

I tilted my chin defiantly. "Make me."

A dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he closed the distance between us. "Always fighting," he murmured, his voice low. "Even when there's nothing to fight against."

"Nothing to fight against?" I snapped, stepping back instinctively. "You're literally forcing me to marry you!"

He reached around my neck and fastened the necklace before I could stop him. The cool diamonds brushed against my skin, but his fingers lingered, warm and unsettling. "And yet, here you are," he said softly, his voice dripping with amusement. "Still standing. Still defiant. Most would have crumbled by now."

"Sorry to disappoint," I shot back, trying to ignore the heat that rose to my cheeks at his words.

"On the contrary," he said, turning me to face the mirror. "You're exactly what I expected. Fire and steel wrapped in a beautiful package."

I pushed him away, my hands trembling with frustration. "I'm not your package. I'm not your anything."

He chuckled darkly. "In thirty minutes, you'll be my wife." His eyes locked with mine in the reflection, the intensity making it hard to breathe. "And while I’m willing to give you certain freedoms, don’t test me too far, val. I’m not known for my patience."

"Then why choose me?" My voice cracked as I whirled to face him. "Why not find some willing mob princess who’d be happy to be your trophy wife?"

"Because they bore me," he said simply, his gaze unwavering. "You, on the other hand..." His thumb brushed my lower lip. "You're anything but boring and yes you're paying a debt"

Without thinking, I bit his thumb. Hard.

Instead of anger, his reaction was maddeningly calm. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Careful, little lioness. I bite back."

"Get out!" I yelled, my voice trembling with frustration. "Some of us need to prepare for their forced march down the aisle!"

At the door, he paused and turned back. "One more thing. I've invited some business associates to the reception. You will smile, you will dance, and you will play the part of the happy bride. Consider it your first duty as a Castellano."

"Or what?" I spat. "You’ll kill my father?"

His expression hardened, and the air in the room seemed to chill. "No. But there are other ways to punish disobedience. Don’t make me demonstrate them on our wedding Night"

The door shut behind him, leaving me alone with my fury and helplessness. I collapsed onto the nearest chair, my fingers brushing the necklace at my throat. The diamonds felt heavy, suffocating. They weren’t a gift—they were chains.

My phone buzzed, breaking the suffocating silence. It was a text from my father: "I'm so sorry, baby girl. I never meant for this to happen."

I stared at the message, bitterness pooling in my chest. I thought about responding, maybe yelling at him through text, but what was the point? He wasn’t worth the energy. With a flick of my thumb, I deleted the message.

The wedding planner poked her head in again, her face pale and nervous. "Five minutes, Mrs. Castellano!"

"It's still Miss Martinez," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

But not for long. In five minutes, I’d become Mrs. Dominic Castellano. Property of the mob and prisoner of Dominic castellano

God help me.