PAWNS OF DECEPTION

Chapter 4

ISADORA’S POV

I’d always known I had a tendency to attract trouble… but not this kind. Or maybe this was luck because the man standing before me looked like trouble I might actually want, like the kind of sin I wouldn’t mind committing.

Isadora, stop.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Isadora Volkov and Lorenzo Ricci,” the officiant declared.

“A union built on commitment, respect, and mutual understanding.”

The irony nearly made me laugh.

“Do you, Lorenzo Ricci, take Isadora Volkov to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

His dark eyes locked with mine looking intensely. “I do,” He said finally

“And do you, Isadora Volkov, take Lorenzo Ricci to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

My lips parted and I said barely above a whisper.

“I do.”

The hall exhaled in unison.

The rings were exchanged. His fingers brushed mine for the briefest moment as he slipped the ring onto my finger.

“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The officiant announced.

The words hung between us like for a moment before his lips brushed mine briefly, just enough to make the crowd sigh.

The crowd gasped and applauded politely. To them, it was a kiss.

To us, it was branding.

The union of the two most ruthless mafia families in the world.

My heels clicked against the marble floors, my hand brushing his as we made our way towards the doorl. The wide church doors opened and sunlight spilled over us.

We got into a black car, our journey filled with silence as we headed to the hotel for the reception.

———

I was escorted to the antechamber from my hotel room after dressing up and Lorenzo was already there, adjusting his tie. I went to the mirror to have one last look. I was wearing a sultry gown of champagne silk, studded with crystals . The dress clung to my frame, slipping off one shoulder and pooling like liquid down my curves and on my throat sparkled the diamond necklace my father had given me.

He offered me his arm and I hesitated for a moment before slipping my hand into his.

Together, we moved toward the grand doors.

The reception was a maze of faces, greetings, and champagne glasses. I moved through it like a guest at my own wedding. Every “congratulations” felt distant. My cheeks ached from smiling.

“She is radiant,” one Italian man commented as we passed his table.

“She is,” Lorenzo said, his hand slightly resting on the small of my back.

We eventually reached the table where our fathers discussed their newly formed alliance with a group of powerful associates. Ivan and Igor stood nearby.

You are welcome to the Ricci family, Isadora,” Alessandro Ricci said in a thick Italian accent.

“I am more than pleased to be part,” I replied, keeping my poise.

“You will join the organization,” he added, “and your husband and Matteo will see you through everything.”

“I understand,” I reply calmly.

“Isadora?” he repeated, as if confirming something.

“That’s my maternal grandmother’s name,” I explained. “She’s of Italian-Greek origin.”

“Ah… how classical,” he said approvingly, and I acknowledged with a polite smile.

“To a successful alliance,” my father said, raising his glass slightly and then everyone picked up their glasses, clinking them together.

The evening continued with polite laughter, clinking glasses, shallow compliments, and our first dance beneath glittering chandeliers. Everywhere I turned, people smiled at me, as though my presence alone secured their future..

I raised my champagne glass, swirling the golden liquid slowly as my eyes drifted across the room.

———-

We arrived at the estate which was on a private road just after nightfall.

The gates opened, and the car rolled through a long drive lined with dim lights and shadowed trees. It stopped in front of a grand mansion.

I stepped out alone. Lorenzo remained inside the car for a moment longer.I walked up the stairs, glancing back once at the estate.

The estate stretched wide with tall gates, long driveways, trimmed hedges, and security walking calmly along the perimeter.

The front doors opened, and a butler stepped aside to let me in.

The house smelled faintly of jasmine and expensive leather. I closed the door behind me and let out a long, slow breath. Finally, alone. At least, for a few moments.

My eyes swept across the sitting room. The furniture was sleek yet understated, blending modern lines with classic touches. I had to give it to the Riccis, they had taste.

My mind drifted to the morning’s events before the door sound broke my focus. I smoothed the folds of my champagne silk gown, feeling the weight of the crystals on my shoulders, when Lorenzo stepped in, adjusting his tie. His dark eyes assessed me like a predator sizing up prey.

“You’re… different from what I expected,” he said quietly.

“I am everything a Ricci would want,” I replied, tilting my head and letting the faintest smirk brush my lips. ““Are you satisfied, husband?”

His eyes narrowed slightly with amusement flickering beneath the surface. “I’m never satisfied. But you… you are sharper than I expected.”

The words should have stung. They didn’t. Instead, they sparked something… interesting. I had expected him to see only a replacement.

“I’ll do my best to live up to expectations,” I said lightly and letting the words sound humble.

“Dinner is served,” the butler announced, interrupting us. He had an aged, polished European voice. He had a trim moustache and a calm, unreadable expression.

“I won’t be dining tonight,” I replied, hoping I sounded as classic as I had intended.

“Very well, madam,” he replied before turning his attention to Lorenzo.

“Same here,” Lorenzo said.

“As you wish, sir,” he said and was about to turn to leave.

“Can you show me to my room,” I asked, ready to retire for the day.

The butler inclined his head slightly. “This way, madam,” he said before he extended one arm subtly to guide direction, his palm open.

It was when I got to the stairs that I realized Lorenzo was right behind me. I ignored him and continued up the stairs.

The butler opened the door silently and stepped aside for me to enter. Immediately I did, Lorenzo did, and the butler shut the door immediately.

I folded my hands, watching him as he walked towards the bed.

“And what are you doing here?” I questioned.

He suddenly stopped and turned to me immediately as he started to unbutton his shirt.

He began moving toward me, and I instinctively stepped back until the door stopped me. My breath hitched; this couldn’t be happening. My heart raced as he closed the distance, close enough that I caught the scent of his cologne, cedar, with something darker, like smoke.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I felt myself getting lost in their depths. He kept coming closer.

And I braced myself—

I noticed the way my breath hitched as he approached me. Fear was written all over my face; it was obvious I was trying too hard to appear calm with my back pressed against the wall.

Now the space between us was almost nonexistent. He raised his hands toward my face and I flinched instinctively. His other hand moved to my waist, steadying me.

My eyes widened and locked with his, as if searching for something I would never get.

He reached for the green sapphire hairpin, the one his father had given me,removing it carefully from my hair. Then he turned to leave.

“What was that about?” I asked, my voice slightly unsteady as I tried to catch my breath.

“You don’t deserve this heirloom,” he said flatly before leaving the room.

My fingers rose slowly to my hair, brushing the empty space where the green sapphire hairpin had been.

“You don’t deserve this heirloom.”

His voice replayed in my head, calm, like he had been stating a fact rather than insulting me.

For a moment, I just stood there, letting it linger. Then I scoffed softly.

Ridiculous.

I let my hand fall and went into the bathroom. It was luxurious and serene, with marble countertops and a rainfall shower. I washed my hair, bathed, then slipped into a robe, deciding to take one last drink.

I settled into the rocking chair by the balcony. A few minutes later, headlights flashed in the driveway. I leaned over the balcony railing and looked down as the driver stepped out, exchanging keys with Lorenzo, now dressed entirely in black. He stepped into the car and drove off. Making my curiosity rise..

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Misha. That was like a perfect timing.

I changed into a similar all-black outfit. My only car here was a black Aston Martin DBX, which was ideal for where I was going to. I knew security wouldn’t question me leaving, though they would definitely report it.

I drove past the lights of New York City, winding through quiet streets until I reached a narrow, isolated path.