Taken by the Mobster

Chapter 5: The Wedding

POV: Bella

Two days later, when I was feeling well enough to get out of bed, all the wedding preparations were completed exactly as I had chosen, even though I had ordered the first option I saw on any paper I was shown.

A few women stood around me, ready to help me prepare for the occasion. My hands were delicately manicured, my nails were perfectly done, and my hair was given the elegant style I had dreamed of so many times. However, I didn't feel happy at all; all that filled me was the emptiness of having finally seen Vincent again just a few hours ago. I still couldn't get used to calling him Antonio; that would never be his name for me.

I touched his hands as I watched him breathe through a breathing machine, his face more bruised than mine, especially the top of his head. I stroked his face. I wasn't ready to leave him when I was taken away.

"There, miss, the dress is beautiful," said one of them, as if I were her new boss. But I didn't want that; in fact, I didn't want any of it; I wanted to go back to Vincent.

"Thank you," I said, forcing a smile at her before the mirror finally turned to me.

As I stared at my reflection, my eyes still looked a little puffy from the countless times I'd cried since I'd arrived here. The dress exuded impeccable beauty, with its perfect cut and delicate stonework. Every detail was meticulously thought out, as if it were an artist's masterpiece, but deep down, that superficial happiness didn't appease the feelings that were eating me up inside. As I stroked the soft fabric, the memory of Vincent intertwined; it must have been him this wedding was with.

"Is there a problem, miss? It can adjust if there's anything wrong." One of them said this to me, her eyes looking at me worriedly, perhaps afraid of what Leo might do if I complained about something.

"No, don't worry, it's fine," I replied, forcing another smile as I descended the two steps to the mirror. I elegantly lifted the hem of my dress and crossed the room. There, the veil was put on before the doors opened and I walked down the corridor, accompanied by countless men, towards a kind of limousine.

The limousine felt like a refuge, a moment of peace amidst the hustle and bustle of the wedding. As I settled into the back seat, I signed in a failed attempt to accept my fate.

Looking out of the window, I decided there was nowhere or no way to run; I couldn't put my sister at risk, not this time. My hands slipped to the necklace with her initials, and I clutched it. I clung to a thread of hope that told me it would only be a while; Vincent would wake up soon.

The doors of the Chapel opened as someone adjusted my veil on the floor. Everyone turned their gaze to me, but I was focused on the man in the center of the space, the colored glass reflecting the sun and lightening his skin a little more.

As I held the bouquet in my trembling hands, the music filled the chapel with its soft notes, and the delicate touch of the piano echoed through the sacred space. However, my gaze was drawn to Léo's clear eyes. He watched my every move, his eyes traversing my entire being until they reached my feet, covered by a stiletto heel that had defied balance for so long.

Léo's expression remained impenetrable, almost emotionless, even though his eyes never strayed from mine for a second. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I wondered what was going on in his mind, and I felt small in that place.

The bouquet was gently placed in my hands, breaking the momentary connection between Léo and me. I looked away from his flawless body, wrapped in a black suit, and the purple and white flowers in his pocket, exactly the same as the petals in my hands. The slightly sweet, soft scent of lisianthus flowers invaded my nostrils, even though the scent isn't usually pronounced in flowers like these. I sniffed them closer, unconsciously; they were the most beautiful on the market, that much I knew for sure.

As I walked slowly down the aisle of the Chapel, my footsteps echoing in the sacred surroundings, I felt the nervousness building up around me, even though my false smile looked convincing. I didn't look away; I was afraid of my feet faltering, afraid of losing my nerve. Staring into his cold eyes constantly reminded me of why I needed to keep going. He stared at my red mouth for several seconds before realizing that he needed to come towards me.

He approached me with firm, sure, slow steps, still acting as if he were facing a simple formality. His lips curled slightly in a fake, restrained smile, although anyone would notice if they focused their eyes on his lip, as I was doing at that moment. As soon as I noticed, I shifted my eyes to his arm, which was stretched out towards me, slightly marked by his clothes.

Slowly, I entwined my arm there, my fingers touching his expensive clothes, while I could clearly see his empty expression as he looked back at the altar. I felt my fingers tremble slightly, as did my throat as I swallowed with difficulty, and I knew he noticed too, as he loosened the pressure on my arm and brought it down, touching my wrist and ignoring the traditions, as if that could calm me down.

"Calm down. If you keep acting like this, everyone will notice," he whispered softly, in a tone that only the two of us could hear. His expression was icy, but he didn't show any irritation this time. Firmly, he held my wrist. "Breathe," he ordered, and I obeyed promptly.

Leo let go and pressed my wrist according to the rhythm of my inhales and exhales. As we walked down the aisle together, I let the man next to me guide me, while my body gradually freed itself of the tension, to the point where my hands no longer shook when we stopped in front of the priest and he began his speech, to the point where I felt the electricity coursing through my body when his touch left me. I'd say yes at the altar to my boyfriend's brother.