A BRIDE FOR THE DEVIL

Chapter 2: The Vows

The silence between us stretches so tight it feels like it’s about to snap. I keep my chin up, staring right back into Luca’s dark eyes, waiting for him to do or say something but his face is a wall of solid stone.

The old priest clears his throat, and the sound echoes through the massive church, breaking the weird spell over the room. Luca finally shifts his gaze, looking toward the altar. His huge hand is still wrapped firmly around mine, his warm skin reminding me exactly who holds the power here.

"Dearly beloved," the priest begins, his voice loud and rhythmic. "We are gathered here today."

I don't hear a single word of the ceremony. My entire focus is on how insanely close this man is standing next to me. He is a full head taller than me, and he radiates a heavy, suffocating heat. He smells amazing like expensive cedarwood, fresh rain, and a faint hint of tobacco. Every single muscle under his black tuxedo is stiff, coiled like a predator waiting to attack.

To my left, I can feel Matteo watching us. My cousin has his arms crossed, wearing a smug, proud smile. He looks like a guy who just sold a used car for double its worth. He thinks my body bought his safety.

"Luca Romano," the priest’s voice cuts through my thoughts. "Do you take Elena Moretti to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of your life?"

Another heavy silence fills the church. On the Romano side, nobody moves a muscle. These are dangerous men who kill for a living, but they sit in total, disciplined silence for their future boss.

"I do," Luca says.

The sound of his voice hits me right in the chest. It’s a deep, rough baritone that vibrates through the floorboards and settles straight in my stomach. It’s smooth, dark, and completely dominant. He doesn't just say the words he commands them.

The priest turns to me. "Elena Moretti, do you take Luca Romano."

I swallow the dryness in my throat and force my lips into a soft, innocent smile. "I do."

"The rings, please."

Cassian, Luca’s dangerous-looking right-hand man, steps up and hands Luca a small velvet box. Luca reaches in and grabs a heavy platinum band. He takes my left hand, his long, scarred fingers sliding between mine. He doesn't just hold my hand he forces my fingers wide open, completely controlling my hand.

He slowly slides the cold metal ring down my finger. It feels like a permanent handcuff. As he finishes, he leans down just a fraction, his lips almost brushing my ear. The intense heat of his chest presses against my shoulder.

"You are mine now, principessa," he whispers. His voice is so low and gravelly it’s meant for me alone. "Every single piece of you."

A sharp, electric shiver shoots straight down my spine, pooling heavy and hot low in my belly. It isn't just fear. It’s a sudden, crazy wave of arousal that makes my body tighten. I hate myself for it. My body is totally betraying me, reacting to his dominant voice before my brain can even stop it.

I tilt my head up, keeping my face sweet but letting the absolute ice show in my eyes. "I belong to my husband."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declares, smiling at us. "You may seal it with a kiss."

Luca doesn't hesitate. His large, warm hand instantly moves to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle firmly into my hair, tilting my face up. Before I can even steel myself, he leans down and captures my mouth.

The kiss isn't a gentle, polite wedding kiss for show. It’s an invasion.

His lips are firm, hot, and completely demanding. He parts my lips with total authority, claiming my mouth with a dark intensity that leaves me completely breathless. He pulls my waist tight against his body, anchoring my hips flush against his rock-hard thighs. I can feel every single muscle in his chest pressing into me. It is a public declaration that he owns me.

When he finally pulls away, my lips are tingling and my heart is slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stare up at him, completely dazed and flushed, trying to force air back into my lungs.

Luca’s face instantly goes blank again, his cold mask snapping right back into place. He turns me toward the crowd, keeping his heavy arm locked securely around my waist, keeping my body glued to his side as the congregation erupts into applause.

Matteo is clapping the loudest, looking like a king.

I smile back at my cousin, but under the heavy silk of my dress, my fingers twitch against the silver knife strapped to my thigh. I walked into this church intending to be the killer. Matteo thinks he sold me out. But the second I get Luca alone behind closed doors, I’m going to find his weakness and bleed his empire dry.

Luca leads me down the aisle and out of the church, his grip on my waist unyielding. The heavy doors of his armored limousine are already open, guards standing at attention. He slides in after me, the heavy door slamming shut, cutting off the noise of the crowd.

The space is small, dark, and suffocatingly private.

I sit back against the leather, bracing myself for his cold silence. Instead, before the car even pulls away from the curb, Luca moves.

In one fluid, terrifyingly fast motion, his large hand grips my jaw, forcing my face up. His other hand slides down my leg, his large palm tracking straight up my thigh. My breath hitches in pure panic. His hand stops exactly where the fabric is split his fingers brushing directly against the cold, metal handle of my hidden knife.

I freeze, my heart stopping completely.

Luca doesn't pull the blade out. He just presses his thumb hard against the metal, pinning it into my skin, before his dark eyes meet mine. A slow, dangerous smirk finally touches his lips.

"Nice knife, principessa," he rough-whispers, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes burning with a wild, possessive heat. "I've been wondering when you'd finally bring it to me."