Forced Marriage with the Devil Mafia

Kiss the bride

What is an ideal wedding for a woman?

Where she marries the man of her own choice, her family and loved ones around to bless her and join her in the happiness.

Jenna didn't have any family, and after what Mikaelsons did she lost her trust on everyone until Corey entered her life a year ago. His family treated her as their own daughter. The love of a father and mother she could never receive from her parents, but from Corey's parents she got it.

Jenna knew Corey was the man who would keep her happy and they would lead a happy life.

Until...

Marcel Mikaelson entered her life again, forcing her to marry him if she wanted to see Corey alive. And the betrayal that Corey felt because Marcel declared Jenna to be his lover was an addition to her pain.

Corey was taken away from the altar, and now Marcel and Jenna were present there, facing each other. The priests started speaking the vows, asking them to repeat after him.

I, Marcel Mikaelson, take thee, Jenna Carlson, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart; and pledge your loyalty or faithfulness.

When Jenna didn't speak after the priest, Marcel pressed her. "You are supposed to say the vows, Jenna," he pronounced.

With fear and disdain in her voice, Jenna finally spoke up.

I, Jenna Carlson, take thee, Marcel Mikaelson, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart; and pledge your loyalty or faithfulness.

A cascade of tears traced the contours of her face. Jenna in her heart could never accept Marcel as her lawful husband. A deep-seated loathing for him had taken root in her soul, a sentiment she knew would persist until her dying day.

A trusted aide of Marcel, bearing a box of wedding rings, stepped forward. Marcel, with a sense of ceremony, picked up the ring he had personally designed for Jenna. He noticed the vacant look in Jenna's eyes and gently prompted her to raise her hand for the ring.

Following the priest's directives, the wedding bands were exchanged. Marcel's cohorts erupted into applause and raucous cheers, their jubilation echoing through the hall. The guests, too, joined in, their clapping more out of compulsion than genuine joy. By now, they had found out who Marcel Mikaelson was, the biggest Mafia in Italy.

As the wedding rituals drew to a close, the priest uttered the customary words, "The groom may now kiss the bride."

Jenna's heart pounded in her chest. She would not let him kiss her. As she glared at Marcel, her eyes were ablaze with defiance. Marcel, undeterred, lifted her veil, his hand reaching out to gently cradle her neck. But Jenna, quick as a flash, moved his hand away, thwarting his intentions.

Determined to stake his claim on her before the world, Marcel moved his hand to her waist this time, pulling her closer to him.

Jenna, her spirit unbroken, tried to wriggle free from his grasp. But her physical strength was no match for him, and she found herself unable to break free.

"You left a letter that day, professing your love for me. Now, it's time you reciprocated," Marcel declared, pressing his lips against hers without a moment's consideration for her current state of mind.

Jenna, however, remained unyielding, her lips firmly sealed, offering no response to his advance. The boisterous cheers of the crowd echoed around them, but to Jenna, it left a haunting memory.

Her wedding day, which should have been filled with joy and celebration, was marred by Marcel's presence. She was now bound to this man, a notorious figure in the underworld.

Pulling away from the kiss, Marcel studied her face, his gaze intense. Before Jenna could comprehend his intentions, he swept her off her feet, holding her in a traditional bridal carry.

"Marcel, put me down!" Jenna demanded as she hit right below his shoulder.

"No," Marcel retorted in a firm tone. He strode down the aisle, heading straight for his car, seemingly unaffected by the brutal words Jenna hurled at him.

Marcel threw her inside the backseat of the car and secured the seat belt around her. He quickly slid into the seat beside her, blocking her escape. Before she could react, his hand found its way to her thigh.

“I wasn’t joking earlier, Jenna,” Marcel’s voice was icy, sending a chill down her spine. “I will not hesitate to kill Corey right before your eyes if you dare to defy me.”

“I despise you,” Jenna retorted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Does Ariel know what you’ve done to me today?” she questioned, invoking the name of their mutual acquaintance.

“Don’t you dare bring Ariel into this,” Marcel warned her, his gaze shifting to the driver. He commanded him to drive off immediately.

“I was always right about you,” Jenna continued, her voice rising in defiance. “You are a heartless mafia boss, who doesn’t bat an eyelid before snuffing out an innocent life. You may think that by marrying me, you’ve achieved your goal. But you will never possess my heart. I will ensure that you end up behind bars, rotting in a prison cell!” Jenna’s words were a torrent of anger and resentment, her fear giving way to a fierce determination.

Marcel’s face remained impassive, a stoic mask that betrayed no emotion. His thoughts were an enigma, hidden behind his unreadable expression.

“You deserve a fate similar to Ian’s!” Jenna’s words were a direct challenge, causing Marcel’s eyes to widen momentarily. He turned his lethal gaze towards her.

“Jenna, know your place. If you cross the line, I won’t hesitate to put you in your place,” Marcel warned in his stern tone.