Forced Marriage

The wedding 2

Davis didn't hesitate. He didn't lean in with tenderness or warmth. Instead, he reached out and gripped the edge of her veil, lifting it with a swift, clinical motion that revealed her tear-stained face to the dim candlelight.

His hand moved to her chin, his fingers firm and cold against her skin. He tilted her head back, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her feel completely exposed.

Then, he leaned down.

The kiss was brief, hard, and devoid of any affection. It was a seal on a contract—a physical confirmation of ownership. His lips were dry and unyielding, and when he pulled away, he didn't linger. He didn't look at her with anything resembling love or even curiosity.

"Done," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He turned on his heel and began walking toward the exit of the chapel, his pace steady and unhurried.

Mira released her breath, not knowing what next to do.

The priest signaled for the guests—mostly Marino associates and family members who stood in the shadows like silent sentinels—to disperse. The ceremony was over, but the reality was only beginning.

Davis didn't wait for her. He walked out of the chapel, his stride long and purposeful, leaving Mira standing there in the middle of the aisle, a ghost in a gown of white silk. The heavy silence of the room pressed in on her, broken only by the distant, muffled sound of the rain outside.

"Miss Mira," a voice called out. It was one of the guards, gesturing toward the door. "The Master expects you in his quarters. Follow me."

Mira felt like she was moving in a trance. She walked through the corridors, the heavy fabric of her dress dragging behind her like a weight.

Mira followed slowly as she was lost, she decided to recall how she got to this stage, yesterday she was preparing to confess her love to Jake the next minute, she was married to someone she didn't know,all because she was used as a collateral.

The guard led her to a set of massive, dark double doors at the end of a long hallway. He opened them without a word and stepped aside.

"Enter," he said.

The room beyond was enormous, draped in deep blues and blacks, lit only by the low glow of a fireplace. Davis stood by the window, his back to the door. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked less like a groom and more like a man waiting for an intruder.

He didn't turn around when she entered.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing toward a velvet chair near the hearth. "The maids will come and assist you with that dress. It's impractical."

His voice was as cold as the marble floors. He finally turned, his eyes sweeping over her with an expression of pure indifference.

"Don't look so miserable,Davis watched her walk away, his jaw tightening. He didn't respond to her retort. He didn't need to. Her words hung in the air like a challenge he had no interest in accepting.

He turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him from the dark glass. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders rigid. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long, jagged shadows across the room, but the warmth failed to reach him.

"She has spirit," Lorenzo remarked, appearing in the doorway behind him. He leaned against the frame, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Most women are weeping or begging by now."

"Spirit is just another word for trouble," Davis replied without turning. "She's a Marino now. That means she follows my rules, whether she likes them or not."

"Of course," Lorenzo said, his tone dripping with amusement.Lorenzo pushed off the doorframe, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood as he moved toward the bar in the corner of the room. "Rules are fine, Davis. But even the best-kept cages have bars that bend if you push hard enough."

"I don't push," Davis said, his voice dropping an octave. "I break."

Lorenzo poured himself a drink, the ice clinking sharply against the crystal glass. "We'll see. The girl has eyes like a cornered animal. That kind of look doesn't go away easily."

He took a sip, then set the glass down with a deliberate click. "Just remember, she's not just a contract. She's your wife. The family will be watching how you handle her. If you treat her like property, they'll treat you like a liability."

Davis finally turned, his eyes hard and flat.

"you can't force me into liking someone I just met, she could be a gold digger, like i mean she is

Davis said.Lorenzo let out a short, dry laugh. "Gold digger? She's the one who was sold to pay off her family's debts, Davis. If anyone's here for the money, it's the people who sent her."

He straightened up, smoothing the front of his coat. "She's a pawn. You know this. Don't make it complicated by inventing motives that aren't there."

Davis turned his gaze back to the window, the rain streaking down the glass in jagged lines. "It doesn't matter what her motives are. She stays in her lane, I stay in mine."

"Fine," Lorenzo said, moving toward the door. "But don't forget—your grandmother is already planning the first charity gala for the next month. She'll expect you to show up with your 'new wife' on your arm. Try not to look like you're walking with a prisoner."

"I'm not going with her dad,I already told Layla to be my date and trust me dad I'm not changing my mind unless you don't want me to go at all

Davis said quietly looking outside the windowLorenzo stopped mid-stride, his hand resting on the door handle. He turned back, a slow, amused grin spreading across his face.

"Layla? You mean Layla Moretti?" Lorenzo's voice was laced with disbelief. "The Moretti heiress? Davis, she's been chasing you for three years. If you show up with her, your grandmother will have a heart attack. And the press will have a field day."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "You're playing a dangerous game, son. Bringing a date to your own wedding celebration is one thing, but bringing her? That's a declaration of war against the family's expectations."

Davis didn't flinch. His profile remained as still as stone against the dark glass.

"Then let them declare it," Davis said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I'm done performing for them."