CHAPER2
1213 Words
The grand ballroom of the Costa estate was filled with people, but Elena felt completely alone. The walls were lined with powerful men in dark suits, their voices low as they murmured to one another
Women stood beside them in glittering dresses, their smiles forced, their eyes wary.
She stood at the entrance, dressed in a simple yet elegant white gown. The lace sleeves clung to her arms, the fabric heavy against her skin. She felt trapped, suffocated.
Her eyes found Lorenzo.
He stood at the altar, looking as powerful and untouchable as ever. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he was the image of control. His dark eyes met hers, unwavering, unreadable.
The music began.
Elena’s feet felt like lead as she took slow, measured steps forward. Each one carried her closer to a fate she never asked for. The murmurs of the crowd faded into a dull hum in her ears.
This wasn’t a wedding. It was a contract. A transaction.
When she reached the altar, Lorenzo extended his hand. She hesitated for the briefest moment before placing hers in his. His grip was firm, his fingers warm against her cold skin.
The priest began speaking, but Elena barely heard him. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Then came the vows.
“Do you, Lorenzo Costa, take Elena Romano to be your wife?”
Lorenzo’s voice was steady, unwavering. “I do.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
The priest turned to her. “Do you, Elena Romano, take Lorenzo Costa to be your husband?”
Her throat tightened. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to run.
But her brother’s face flashed in her mind. Leo. His life depended on this moment.
Elena forced the words past her lips. “I do.”
A glimmer of something flickered in Lorenzo’s eyes—satisfaction, perhaps.
The rings were exchanged. The weight of the gold band on her finger felt like a shackle.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest announced.
Elena barely had time to react before Lorenzo stepped closer. His hand cupped her cheek, his touch oddly gentle. Then, before she could protest, his lips brushed against hers.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tender.
It was a warning.
When he pulled away, his lips curved into the faintest smirk. “Welcome to the Costa family, cara.”
Applause echoed around them, but Elena barely heard it.
The ceremony was over. There was no turning back now.
As Lorenzo led her through the crowd, his grip tightening around her hand, Elena’s stomach twisted with a chilling realization.
She had just vowed herself to a man who could destroy her completely.
The reception was grand, extravagant everything a mafia wedding was expected to be.
Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, and the finest champagne flowed freely. Laughter and conversation filled the air, but Elena felt none of it.
She sat at the long dining table beside Lorenzo, her new husband, the man who now controlled her life. His presence was overwhelming, his sharp gaze scanning the room with quiet authority. He was feared, respected.
Elena forced herself to eat, though every bite tasted like dust. She kept her posture straight, her face composed. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak.
“You should smile more,” Lorenzo said suddenly, his voice low. “People are watching.”
Her fingers tightened around her fork. “I don’t feel like smiling.”
Lorenzo leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. “Then pretend.”
Elena turned her head, meeting his eyes. There was no softness in them, no warmth. Only calculation.
She swallowed her resentment and forced a small smile. It wasn’t for him. It was for survival.
Across the room, her father sat with Leo, her brother’s remaining arm in a sling. His expression was unreadable, but she knew what he was thinking. You did what you had to do.
Did he feel guilty for giving her away so easily? Did he even care?
A slow, eerie clap pulled Elena’s attention.
Antonio Moretti.
The underboss.
Dressed in a dark gray suit, he strolled toward them, his eyes sharp with amusement. “A beautiful couple,” he said smoothly. “A perfect alliance.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. “Antonio.”
Antonio smirked, pouring himself a glass of wine. “Tell me, Elena, how does it feel to be the queen of the Costa empire?”
She met his gaze, refusing to let him see her uncertainty. “Like I just won a game I didn’t know I was playing.”
Antonio chuckled, swirling his drink. “Clever girl.” He turned to Lorenzo, his smirk deepening. “You must be pleased.”
Lorenzo’s grip on his glass tightened, but he simply gave a small nod. “She’ll learn.”
Antonio lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To learning, then.”
Elena’s skin prickled. There was something dangerous about Antonio. Something that sent a warning through her veins.
But she had no time to dwell on it.
Because soon, the reception ended.
And the moment she had been dreading arrived.
The Wedding Night
Elena stood in the grand bedroom of Lorenzo’s estate, her heart hammering. The room was massive dark, elegant, intimidating. A king-sized bed sat in the center, its silk sheets pristine.
The door clicked shut behind her.
She didn’t turn. She could feel him.
Lorenzo stepped closer, his movements slow, controlled.
“You’re afraid,” he said quietly.
Elena clenched her fists. “I’m not.”
A soft chuckle. “Lying doesn’t suit you.”
She turned sharply. “What do you expect from me?”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened. “Loyalty.”
Her breath hitched.
“Whether you like it or not, you’re my wife now,” he continued, his voice like steel. “That means you belong to me. That means no running, no betrayals. Do you understand?”
Elena lifted her chin. “And what do I get in return?”
A pause. Then, unexpectedly, “Protection.”
Elena blinked.
Lorenzo took a step closer, his presence suffocating. “You may hate me now, but one day, you’ll see I’m the only one who will keep you safe in this world.”
She stared at him, searching for a lie in his face.
But there wasn’t one.
The realization sent a cold shiver down her spine.
Lorenzo reached for her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He pulled her closer, just enough for her to feel the heat of his body.
“You are mine, Elena,” he murmured, his lips inches from hers. “And I do not share what’s mine.”
She swallowed hard, her pulse racing.
Lorenzo studied her for a long moment before finally releasing her.
“Sleep,” he ordered, stepping back.
Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the adjoining room, leaving her standing there, breathless and shaken.
Elena exhaled slowly, forcing her hands to stop trembling.
But as she turned toward the bed, her eyes caught something on the nightstand—
A small, folded note.
Her blood ran cold as she picked it up.
“Be careful who you trust. The real danger isn’t Lorenzo.”
- Writer
