The Wrong Bride
Chapter 1 — The wrong Bride
The first time Elena Rossi saw Dante Moretti, she was standing in a wedding dress that wasn't hers.
And the first thing she noticed about him was his eyes.
Cold.
Dark.
Completely unforgiving.
He stood at the end of the grand ballroom surrounded by men dressed in black suits, their expressions hard enough to make the expensive crystal chandeliers seem less intimidating.
Everyone in the room seemed afraid of him.
Elena should have been afraid too.
Instead, she was furious.
“This is a mistake,” she said.
Dante's gaze traveled slowly over her white dress before settling on her face.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
That somehow made it worse.
Elena swallowed. “I am not your bride.”
A few men behind him exchanged glances.
Dante stepped closer.
“You're wearing her dress.”
“That doesn't make me her.”
“You were supposed to be waiting in the bridal suite.”
“I was.”
His eyebrow lifted.
Elena's fingers tightened around the bouquet she was holding.
“I went to check on the bride. She wasn't there. Then someone locked me inside the dressing room.”
Silence.
Dante's expression didn't change.
“Where is Sofia?”
“I don't know.”
His jaw tightened.
That was the first sign that she'd managed to get under his skin.
Good.
At least he wasn't completely made of stone.
Elena took a cautious step backward.
“I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but I'm leaving.”
She turned.
Two men immediately blocked the ballroom doors.
Her stomach dropped.
She looked back at Dante.
“Move your men.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You're not leaving.”
Elena laughed nervously.
“You can't keep me here.”
Dante walked toward her.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.
When he stopped in front of her, she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
“You're going to marry me tonight.”
Elena stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You're insane.”
“I've been called worse.”
“You think I'm going to marry a stranger because your bride disappeared?”
“No.”
His eyes darkened.
“I think you're going to marry me because you don't have another choice.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
Dante reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thin folder.
He opened it and held out a photograph.
Elena's breath caught.
It was a picture of her father.
But he wasn't alone.
Standing beside him was Dante.
Younger.
Maybe twenty years old.
And there was blood on both of their clothes.
Elena's fingers trembled.
“What is this?”
“Your father and my father had business together.”
“My father never told me about you.”
“He had many things he didn't tell you.”
Dante handed her another photograph.
This time, it was her father's grave.
Her heart pounded.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because your father left behind a debt.”
“My father died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“And you waited until now?”
“I've been waiting for the right moment.”
Elena felt a chill run through her.
“What debt?”
Dante closed the folder.
“Marry me, and your family's debt disappears.”
She shook her head immediately.
“No.”
His expression remained calm.
“Your younger brother's medical bills disappear too.”
Elena froze.
Dante continued.
“Your family's house stays yours. Your brother stays protected. And nobody comes looking for you.”
Her eyes burned.
“How do you know about my brother?”
“I know everything about you.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
Dante leaned closer.
“But if you walk out of this room tonight, I can't guarantee what happens to him.”
Elena stared at him in disbelief.
“You're threatening my family.”
“No.”
His voice became colder.
“I'm warning you.”
She hated him.
She hated the way he spoke.
The way he looked at her.
The way he seemed completely certain she would eventually surrender.
Most of all, she hated that she was trapped.
She looked toward the ballroom doors.
Two armed men stood there.
Then she looked at Dante.
“What happens after the wedding?”
“You live in my house.”
“For how long?”
“One year.”
“And then?”
“You walk away.”
Elena searched his face for any sign of deception.
There was nothing.
Only that terrifying calm.
“One year,” she whispered.
“One year.”
“And you won't touch my family?”
“No one will touch your family.”
She closed her eyes.
Her brother.
Her mother's debts.
Their house.
Everything she had spent years trying to protect.
She opened her eyes.
“Fine.”
Dante's expression didn't change.
But something flickered in his eyes.
Victory.
Elena pointed a finger at him.
“But don't mistake this for surrender.”
“I won't.”
“I don't love you.”
“I don't need your love.”
“And I will never become your real wife.”
Dante leaned toward her ear.
“That,” he murmured, “is what you should be worried about.”
Elena's breath caught.
Before she could respond, the doors opened.
The priest entered.
The guests stood.
And the music began.
Elena walked down the aisle toward the most dangerous man she had ever met.
She didn't know that Sofia hadn't simply disappeared.
She had been running.
Running because someone had discovered the truth.
And that truth was about to turn Elena's forced marriage into a war.
Because Dante Moretti had not chosen Elena as a replacement bride.
He had chosen her because she was the daughter of the woman who had betrayed him.
And tonight, he had just married his enemy's daughter.
