The Mafia King’s Bride

Chapter 10

Elena’s P.O.V

A week later…

The music starts, bringing me back to the present, and my hand tightens around Uncle Vincent’s arm as the doors open, and suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me as they rise.

I walk down the aisle with Uncle Vincent as he walks me to my new life awaiting me at the altar.

I didn’t realize how real this was until now. After today, I’ll be a married woman. I had always wanted a fairytale; I wanted a love filled with so much passion and overwhelming romance, but obviously, that’s not in the cards for me anymore. Now…now I am getting married to a man who probably hates my guts, a man who I should hate.

I look around at the people here, my family on the left side of the chapel, Sebastian’s on the right.

Soft white petals are scattered along the path, leading all the way to the altar. Tall arrangements of white roses and lilies stand on either side of the altar, their scent faint but loud, mixing with the quiet buzz of anticipation in the room.

The priest waits patiently at the altar, an open book in hand, and then—i see him.

Sebastian.

Standing there in all of his glory. His suit is perfectly tailored, dark against the light of the altar, and his posture is relaxed and unwavering. His gaze locks onto mine, steady, and I find it hard to breathe. A man stands behind him, a man I don't recognize; he looks to be the same height as Sebastian, his face bearing the same look, his eyes scan the room once before settling briefly on me, like he’s assessing something, then his expression goes blank again.

This isn’t just a simple wedding. I tighten my grip on Uncle Vincent’s arm as we continue walking.

“You don’t have to go through this,” he says quietly beside me. He doesn’t mean it—not really. We both know I don't have a choice; if I did, the last thing I would do is get married to this man.

Step by step. Closer. Closer. Until I’m finally standing in front of him. Vincent places my hand in Sebastian’s, giving it a small squeeze before he steps away.

I glance to the side briefly, looking at Valentina, who stands just a few feet away from me. Her expression is softer than anyone else’s. Our eyes meet for a second, and I see what she’s trying to tell me: that she’s here, and I'm not all alone. She gives me the smallest nod, and I do the same.

I face forward again, coming face to face with my husband to be.

The priest starts speaking, his voice calm and controlled, speaking with practiced effort as he echoes slightly through the space. I don’t hear most of it, just fragments of it, it all fades into nothing.

“I bless this union,”

“Marriage is a sacred bond,”

This is it. Once I say ‘I do’, it’s done, no going back anymore.

My heartbeat is louder than anything else; it’s all I hear, echoing in my ear. My fingers curl tightly around Sebastian’s hand, and I become painfully aware of everything all at once: the warmth of his skin against mine, the weight of everyone’s stares in the room, their audible whispers, and the judgment on their faces.

“Do you, Sebastian Russo, take Elena Moretti to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?” the priest asks, and I feel Sebastian’s grip tighten just slightly.

“Yes,” he says, without any hesitation.

The priest turns to me. “And do you, Elena Moretti, take Sebastian Russo to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death, do you part?”

For a second, everything slows: time, my thoughts, the room, and I look at him, the man I’m about to be tied to.

“Yes,” I say, my voice steady, sounding a lot stronger than I feel.

And just like that…it’s done.

_____

Sebastian and I decided to skip having a reception. After all, it’s not exactly a happy union. I told Valentina I’d call her when I got home. Home…I guess I’m going to have a new home now. Sebastian said he had arranged for my clothes to be brought from my house to his. Well…ours now.

The drive to his house is quiet, nothing uncomfortable, just…final. The strange feeling that it is done, nothing we can do about it now.

We’re married.

I stare out the window, admiring the lights and pedestrians as the city slowly fades away, replaced by long stretches of road and towering gates in the distance. I take a side glance at Sebastian, his fingers have formed fists on his thigh, his body tense, as his hand taps on his thigh once.

Suddenly, the car comes to a stop. Massive wrought-iron gates appear before us, black and intricate, two R’s facing away from each other, which I’m guessing is the Russo crest, embedded at the center of the gate. Guards stand on either side of the gates, dressed in dark suits and microphones attached to their ears, their presence sharp and alert, eliminating any possible danger.

One of the guards punches a code on the wall and the gates open without hesitation. The car moves forward.

The estate stretches forward, looking more like a private kingdom than a home. The long driveway curves through perfectly trimmed ground, green lawns trimmed with precision, bushes cut and trimmed to form different shapes, and fountains placed deliberately, making the whole place look magical. Soft golden lights line the path, illuminating everything in a warm glow, the light contrasting with the darkness the night brings.

It’s all so beautiful. So breathtaking, this is power in the flesh.

The car continues forward, passing a second security checkpoint before approaching the house itself, not a house—mansion.

The house stands tall, built in pale stone that glows under the lights. The house is beautiful. This is where he lives. This is where I’ll live. This is where we’ll live together.

The car comes to a stop at the front of the entrance. For a moment, I don’t move, too entranced. Then Sebastian steps out, walking around the car, and opens my door without a word. His hand stretches out, waiting for mine to take it, and I do. I take it this time, I don’t even question it.

He helps me out of the car, leading me to the entrance.

Inside, the house is just as beautiful. High ceilings stretch above us, a massive chandelier hangs in the center, casting a soft light across the marble floors, and expensive art lines the walls.

Sebastian doesn’t stop; he walks straight through the space like he’s done it a thousand times before. I follow him,

He walks into the kitchen, and it’s just as luxurious as the rest of the house. Sleek black countertops match the walls, the modern appliances are built into the walls, and a single light bulb is at the center of the ceiling.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it on the back of a bar stool, his tie comes off next, already loosened, he pulls it free completely.

For the first time since I’ve met this man, he looks…less composed, a little disheveled. He moves to the counter, grabs an expensive bottle of whiskey, judging by the bottle, together with a glass, and pours himself three fingers. He drinks it with no hesitation, taking in every drop of the alcohol, before setting the glass down on the counter, then runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, pushing it back and messing it up, in a way that makes him look human—and not like the dangerous man everyone thinks he is.

“I had a room prepared for you,” he says, folding his arms.

“A room? Oh, yes. Right,” I reply.

“It’s down the hall to the right,” he continues. “You can settle in there.”

I nod slowly. “Okay.” I continue, “My clothes—”

“Will be brought in tomorrow,” he says, before I can finish.

“Right,” I murmur.

“I have work to do,” he says, walking away. “If you need anything, the house is easy to navigate,” he finishes, and just like that—

He’s gone.

‘I guess this is how my life will be from now on.’

I think to myself.