Say I Do
847 Words
Arianna
The church doors opened, and everything slowed down.
Arianna took one small step forward, her heart pounding beneath the lace bodice of her gown.
The cathedral was grander than she'd imaginedvaulted ceilings, heavy candles burning like old promises, pews packed with men in black suits and women dripping in designer gold.
It felt more like a ceremony of power than of love.
All eyes were on her.
Her heels clicked gently against the polished floor as she walked down the aisle beside her father, one hand resting on his arm, the other clutching a delicate bouquet of pale roses. Every inch of her dress had been designed to perfection, from the embroidered train to the pearl-dotted veil cascading down her back.
But none of that mattered the moment she saw him.
Enzo Romano.
Standing at the altar, tall, commanding. Midnight black suit. Crisp white shirt. A tailored silhouette that made everyone else in the room look average. He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t have to. The sharp lines of his jaw, the stormy stillness in his gazeit was enough to make her stomach do a slow somersault.
She didn’t know if it was nerves or something else.
Antonio Toscano stood beside him, equally intimidating in a more polished waylike a king in a clean-cut three-piece suit. His wife, Ilaria, looked like a goddess in soft silk, calm and unreadable.
Arianna’s eyes snapped back to Enzo.
I’m lucky, she told herself. He could’ve been sixty. Balding. Greasy. Drunk.
But he wasn’t.
He was Enzo. Untouchable. Lethal. And soon to be hers.
They reached the altar, and her father let out a low chuckle as he reached for her hand and placed it in Enzo’s.
“Enjoy it,” her father said, lips twitching.
Enzo looked him dead in the eye. “I will.”
That one answer, calm and unflinching, made a shiver run down Arianna’s spine. Her fingers trembled slightly as they met Enzo’s. His palm was warm, larger than hers, rougher. The moment their hands locked, something sparked through heran electric rush, a tingling sensation that zipped up her spine and settled at the base of her neck.
Euphoria? Panic?
She couldn’t tell. But Enzo? He didn’t flinch. His face stayed exactly the same.
Stoic.
Controlled.
Like this was just another business deal sealed.
As they turned together to face the priest, Arianna trippedjust barelybut it was enough for her heel to catch the hem of her dress.
Before she could even gasp, Enzo’s hand shot out, firm on her lower back, steadying her. His fingers pressed against the curve of her spine, holding her up without a single word.
She glanced up at him, cheeks flushing, but he didn’t look at her.
“Watch your step,” he murmured under his breath.
Her heart thudded. Not from the stumblebut from his voice. That deep, husky murmur right by her ear. He smelled faintly of cedar and something darker. Expensive. Clean.
The priest began the ceremony, reading in Italian, his words echoing through the old walls. Arianna barely heard him. She was hyper-aware of everything else her heartbeat, the weight of Enzo’s hand, the sharp angle of his jaw in her peripheral vision.
When it came time for the vows, she could barely find her voice.
Her throat felt tight, like she’d swallowed something too big. The church fell so silent that even her breath felt too loud.
“I do,” she finally whispered.
It came out smaller than she meant, but the words echoed. A thousand ears hung on them.
She swallowed hard.
Enzo’s answer came easily, clean and direct.
“I do.”
He didn’t waver. Didn’t look nervous. Just delivered the line like he’d known it his whole life.
The priest nodded and gave his blessing, voice rising for the final moment. The air grew heavier. She could feel every single person watching them now. Her fingers tightened around her bouquet.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
This was it.
The moment every girl secretly imagined at least once.
She closed her eyes slowly, lifted her chin slightly, and puckered her lipssoft, careful, almost afraid. Her heart pounded so hard it made her ears ring.
She imagined what it would feel like his lips on hers, warm, firm, taking her breath away. She wondered if he was a good kisser. Maybe he’d surprise her.
A pause.
She felt him move.
Her veil lifted gently.
And then
A press of lips.
On her cheek.
Not her mouth.
Not even close.
Just the faintest brush of contact, chaste and calculated, like a kiss to a cousin or a child.
Her eyes blinked open.
He was already turning away.
The church erupted into polite applause, people standing to cheer. The music swelled. Petals fell. But all Arianna could hear was the pounding in her chest.
Her lips were still puckered. Still waiting.
What the hell just happened?
Had she misread it? Had she
Her thoughts raced.
Am I that unattractive?
That unappealing?
You can’t even kiss me?
- Writer
