The Mafia King’s Bride

Chapter 6

Elena’s P.O.V

I stare at myself in the mirror, admiring how beautiful the dress looks, it complements and brings out my curves. My mind can’t help but think how he knew I would like this, but I immediately banish the thought.

The doorbell rings, and I glance at the wall clock.

8:00 p.m

Of course, he’s on time. He’s never late. I move to the door, opening it, and my breath hitches when I see him. Of course, he looks good. He always does. Tonight it’s worse.

His black suit fits him like it was made for him, clinging to the sharp lines of his beautiful body. His expression is calm and controlled as usual.

I straighten, forcing my expression into something neutral. Cold: “Punctual as always, Mr. Russo.” I say

His gaze sweeps over me slowly. Taking in the dress, the slit, the way it rides up my legs. He’s shamelessly checking me out, and the thought makes my breathing slow, my skin heating.

“Elena,” he replies smoothly. “You wore it."

My jaw tightens, fingers forming fists at my side. “Well, I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” I shoot back at him.

The corner of his mouth lifts–slightly. “You always have a choice,” he says. And the hypocrisy almost makes me laugh.

“Right,” I mutter. “Because that's exactly how this feels, like I have a choice.”

He takes a step closer. Too close, the air instantly shifts, thick and charged, and I hate how aware I am of him, how big he is.

“You look exactly how I imagined you would,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

I cross my arms. “And how is that?”

His gaze finds mine, unwavering. “Unforgettable.”

My breath catches. Too stunned to speak–for a second. I recover quickly. “Are we done here or are you just going to stand there and stare?” I ask, brushing past him.

His hand grabs my waist, stopping me, and I freeze.

“You’re feisty today,” he says, his grip tightening on my waist, his face coming on my neck. And I gasp slightly. “You’re about to walk into a room full of people who will be watching your every move.”

I turn to face him. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have put me in this position.”

He takes a step back, his hand on my waist disappearing, and I hate how I mourn the loss of contact.

“I didn’t put you there,” he says. “Your father did.”

That hit harder than I expected, my chest tightening at the mention of my father. I look away first. “Let’s just get this over with,” I say.

He studies me for a moment longer, then steps aside, gesturing me to the car. “After you.”

;) 🖤 ;)

Sebastian appears at my side of the limo, pulling the door open, his hand out. I ignore it and step out of the car, walking to the front of the building.

I hear him chuckle as he walks up beside me, offering his arm for me to take, like he already knows I’ll take it. “You can’t possibly be pissed at me for the rest of the night,” he says, sounding slightly amused.

I take his arm, ignoring him, then I see them. The paparazzi. Their cameras are raised, and their lights are flashing, different voices overlapping. My breath catches, my heart racing. There are so many of them.

“What—” I start, my voice shaking, “Sebastian—”

“Relax,” he murmurs beside me.

I don't even realize I’m shaking until his hand shifts slightly over mine, grounding me.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “Just focus on my hand on yours, lift your chin, you look beautiful.”

My heart flutters at his compliment, and I look up at him, swallowing. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t have to,” he replies, his voice steady, “Just stay close to me.”

The flashes get brighter as we step forward. “Mr. Russo! Over here!” “Mr. and Mrs. Russo, how long have you been together?” “Is this an official engagement?”

“We’ve been together for eight months,” Sebastian says, not missing a bit.

I turn to look up at him. Eight months? His expression doesn’t change,

“We decided to keep everything private before we announced the wedding,” he continues, his hand coming to grab my waist and pull me closer to him.

“When is the wedding?” one of the paparazzi asks, and I force my fake smile into place, my hand coming up to grab the lapels of Sebastian’s suit. I feel him tense slightly at my action.

“The wedding will be happening next week,” he says, turning to look at me. “I can’t wait to get married to her,” he says, his other hand coming up gently but firmly, tilting my chin towards him. My breath catches as his gaze drops to my lips, my heart beating faster than my chest can handle.

And then—his lips are on mine. My fingers curl into the lapels of his jacket, gripping them, needing something to steady me. His mouth moves against mine with a slow, deliberate intensity. Deep. And I match him, I match his intensity without thinking, my body already attuned to his. Everything disappears. The noise. The cameras. The people. They’re all gone—just him, and his all-consuming self.

A spark shoots through me—sharp and sudden, and I pull him closer, needing more, as his grip tightens on my waist, pulling me flush against him. My n*****s harden as he deepens the kiss, his teeth biting my bottom lip, making me moan.

A voice cuts through the haze.” Mr. Russo.” Followed by the sharp clearing of a throat.

Reality crashes in, and my eyes snap open. I pull back abruptly, my breath coming out uneven, chest rising and falling too fast. My hands are still gripping his jacket like I'd forgotten how to let go. We’re too close. So close that I can still feel his breath on my lips, I look up at him, his gaze lingers on mine—darker now. Sebastian doesn’t move immediately, then he clears his throat, like he’s forcing himself back into control.

I drop my hands quickly, my heart still beating too fast for my chest. The noise of the room rushes back in immediately, the cameras, the lights, the people.

And as I stand there, trying to steady my breathing—

I realize, that kiss wasn’t supposed to feel so real. But it did, and that might be the most dangerous part.