BOUND BY VOWS

The church smelled of roses and sin. Alessia's pulse pounded as she stood at the altar, her hands trembling inside lace gloves. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, suffocating, yet her body was charged with something she couldn’t name. Luca DeLuca stood beside her, a dark shadow wrapped in an expensive suit. His presence dominated the space, his touch a searing brand as he reached for her hand. The contact sent a jolt through her, heat curling low in her stomach despite the resentment burning in her chest. “Relax, Piccola’’, he murmured, his thumb brushing over her wrist in a slow, deliberate caress. “You’ll enjoy being mine’’. Her breath hitched. The priests' voice droned in the background, lost in the electricity pulsing between them. Alessia wanted to pull away; to show him she wasn’t some obedient Mafia wife. But his grip tightened--not painful, just commanding. Luca leaned in, his lips barely grazing the shell of her ear as he whispered,' I can feel you shaking. “Is it fear, or something else?’’ Heat flooded her cheeks, her nails biting into his palm. She hated that her body reacted to him, that the deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “I hate you’’, she whispered back, her voice breathless. Luca chuckled, dark and full of promise. “Good’’, he murmured. “Hate makes things more fun’’. Then, without warning, his lips brushed against hers--not a soft, innocent kiss, but something far more dangerous. It was a silent claim, a warning, a taste of the war they were about to wage. And the worst part? For just a second, she kissed him back.