The Don’s Reluctant Bride

CHAPTER THREE : HOUSE OF DELUCA 2

Alessia's POV :

The formal dining room could seat twenty people. Crystal chandeliers. Polished wood. Every corner of the house screamed wealth and power. Matteo was already seated at the head of the table. He didn’t look up when I entered. A place was set to his right. I walked to the opposite end of the table and sat down.

His eyes flicked to me. Something dark crossed his face, amusement maybe or irritation. It's hard to tell.

“Interesting choice,” he said.

“I thought so.”

Staff appeared immediately, pouring wine and serving food I didn’t remember ordering. Fish. Vegetables arranged like art.

We ate in silence. I made it five minutes before I cracked.

“So this is it?” I set down my fork. “You bring me here, stick me in a room, and expect me to just… what? Wait around until you decide what to do with me?”

Matteo cut his steak with surgical precision. “You’re here because your father made promises he couldn’t keep. I’m simply collecting what’s owed.”

“I’m not property.” I snapped.

“Your father disagrees.” He took a sip of wine. “He valued his life more than your freedom. Take that up with him.”

The casual cruelty of it landed like a slap.

“Why marriage?” I pressed. “You could’ve asked for anything. Money, territory, whatever assets he had left. Why go through with this?”

“Because I can.” He looked at me, I saw something cold and deliberate in his grey eyes. “Your father took something from me. Now I’m taking something from him.”

My stomach dropped. “What did he take?”

“That’s between him and me.”

“I’m not a chess piece in whatever game you’re playing with my father.”

“Yes, you are.” He set down his knife and fork. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

I stood up. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Sit. Down.” His voice didn’t rise, but the command was absolute.

“No.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was something interesting but ultimately insignificant.

“Let me explain how this works, Alessia.” His tone was almost conversational. “You will show up to meals. You will be civil in public. You will smile when necessary and speak when spoken to. And most importantly…” He paused. “You will remember that your father’s continued breathing depends entirely on your cooperation.”

My hands curled into fists under the table. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. Easily.” He picked up his wine glass. “The alliance protects him. Your behaviour determines whether that protection continues.”

The threat hung in the air between us.

“What do you want from me?” My voice came out steadier than I felt.

“Compliance.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then we’ll find out how much your father’s life is worth to you.”

I wanted to throw my wine in his face and tell him exactly what I thought of men who punished daughters for their father’s sins. Instead, I walked toward the door.

Oh, and Alessia?”

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“My mother will want to meet you tomorrow. Lunch at one. Dress appropriately.”

I turned to face him. He was watching me with that same calculated expression.

“You’re mine now,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

Something inside me snapped.

I walked back to the table. Slowly. Until I was standing right in front of him.

“Let me explain something to you, Matteo.” I kept my voice low, steady. “You can threaten my father. You can lock me in this house. You can call me your wife and parade me around at whatever mafia bullshit you need me for. But you don’t own me. You never will.”

His expression didn't change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes.

“I’ll show up to your meals. I’ll smile at your mother. I’ll play whatever role you need me to play in public.” I leaned forward slightly. “But every single day, I’m going to make sure you regret this. Every. Single. Day.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Just stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

Then his mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“I look forward to it.”