Mafia's Regret-Ruin His Wrong Bride

Chapter two

Sabrina.

Regarding the humiliation, I do not believe what he says.

Being rejected at the altar will make him appear weak, and a don cannot tolerate giving the impression that he does not have complete control over his domain. In particular, the most powerful don in Chicago, who is also the head of the Five Families.

I have no doubt in my mind that he is telling the truth about my sister being the one who had to pay the heaviest price.

My father is going to kill her, especially now that his scheme to use me as Don De Paul's surrogate bride without my knowledge has been a complete and utter failure.

If I am married to the don, all of my escape plans will be rendered useless. But if I get married to him, I won't have to worry about getting caught and dragged back into my own personal hell because that will get me out of my father's house and away from his cruelty.

Because I am the don's wife, no one other than him will be able to touch me.

In contrast to Serena, who harbors secret desires of leading a mundane existence far from her family, my primary objective has always been to protect myself.

I never wanted to be the one to abandon her, let alone our aunt and uncle. Just our biological father.

My future marriage to the don will allow me to keep my family in my life while also protecting me from my father's punches. This is all because to the fact that my father is a don.

I would also be marrying the only man who has ever starred in the kind of nightmares that had me waking up with my lady bits pulsing.

In other words, I would be marrying the only man who has ever starred in my dreams. My wish to get away became even more pressing after it was announced that he would be marrying my sister after they had already been engaged.

How could I possibly stay when I desired the man she would refer to as her husband?

"Make a solemn vow to me that you will never put your hand on me. Not out of rage, and not as a method of icy, calculating retribution. Never ever" I am aware of what the rumors claim, but even if they were accurate, Andrew De Paul would not have my father serving as his consigliere.

Not only that, but he never would have been able to maintain his position as the old don's consigliere for all those years.

The don's face took on a gloomy and threatening appearance. It is not true that the De Pauls hit their wives.

"I'm not worried about the rest of your family at all. I need a private promise from you."

He snarls at me and says, "You have it," as if he is angry that I need the reassurance.

It's a shame. I shall limit my request to just this one thing for myself. Because I do not have the courage to leap from the sizzling skillet into the burning fire, not even for the sake of Serena.

He asks, "Any other conditions?", but the tone of his voice suggests there best not be any more.

I can only nod my head.

He looks angry. "Are you absolutely sure?"

I am taken aback by the question, and even more so by the fact that he appears to want me to ponder it before responding to him.

The answer is "nothing else."

"If that's the case, you'll marry me," he said. There is no question here.

I go ahead and nod.

"Just admit it."

"Yes, I will marry you," she responded. My ovaries are performing a rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus, and my anxieties are dancing to an acid techno soundtrack.

Regardless of how agitated I am, my ovaries always come out on top. I can only keep my fingers crossed that I'll have time to switch out my underwear before we consummate our marriage.

If he finds out that they have been so drenched simply by being in such close proximity to him and discussing the possibility of getting married, I will die of embarrassment.

"I will find your sister and stop your father from punishing her," he promises in return, reminding me and my rebellious body why I'm supposed to have agreed to this in the first place. "I will find your sister and stop your father from punishing her," he promises in return.

"I am grateful."

"Where are the necklace and earrings that I mailed to Serena so that she may wear them? Do you think she took them with her?"

"No. I believe that she is aware that pawning them would make it far too easy to hunt her down. Or that the don wouldn't go that far; snatching them would be a step too far for him. In any case, I have my doubts about whether or not my sister is even capable of pawning things. They have not yet emerged from the locker room.

"Go get them," he tells his brother. "Get them."

We are currently waiting in complete silence for Tony to come back. When that day comes, he presents his brother with the necklace. Don De Paul reaches out and places it on me, and as he fastens the clasp, his fingertips lightly brush the base of my skull and the back of my neck.

The feeling causes me to tremble all over. It appears from the quivering of his lips that he is aware of the effect that his touch has on me.

The necklace makes my throat and chest feel refreshingly cool. It is dripping with diamonds and emeralds and is set in a chandelier made of white gold. It has the weight and appearance of something a queen would wear. Despite the fact that it was intended for my sister, I can't shake the feeling that it's more fitting for me to wear it right now. Simply because he forced it onto me.

My demure blue amethyst earrings, which were designed to complement the dress I was going to wear as the maid of honor, are taken away by the don. After that, he inserts a drop earring into my right ear that is complementary to the necklace. I make no effort to try to complete the task on my own.

It feels like he's marking me as his, and there's a primal part of me that wants it to happen.

After he has completed the process of attaching the second earring, he moves his finger around the perimeter of my left ear. "It's so lovely."

My entire body is racked with a trembling sensation of need. Although he is speaking about the earrings and not about me, I am unable to control my reaction. What about the expression in his eyes?

It's not about wearing lovely jewelry. It is unadulterated, burning s****l passion. The only reason I am aware of it is because it resonates with a similar reservoir of desire deep within me.

My legs are on the verge of giving out. He has eyes for me.

"My bride," he continues, the tone of his voice becoming increasingly possessive.

I can't help but lick my lips while my heart races a thousand beats per minute. And I am powerless to prevent the word from escaping my mouth any more than I am able to stop the rotation of the globe. That is "yours."

His imposing good looks were concealed by a mask of contentment.

It just took him a flick of his wrist for his wall of manufactured men to disperse, and then the swarm of guests could once again stare in our direction. He spins us around so that we are facing everyone else and grabs my hand in his larger one. My skirt drags over the floor as I walk, but it doesn't restrict my movement at all.

The priest asks for peace and quiet before he begins his sermon. Both the resumed rustling movements and the whispering come to an end.

After the opening prayer, he directs Andrew to walk me over to the wedding bench that is located on the left side of the altar. He then begins the ceremony. While his brother joins their mother in the front pew on the groom's side, we take a seat in the pew that was created specifically for two people.

During the homily, the priest will speak about the sacredness of marriage as well as the meaning of what it means to submit to one's spouse. It's an unusual option for a mafia wedding, but it could work. I don't think Andrew has ever entertained the concept of deferring in any way to his wife, but I'm sure he has a lot of thoughts about how the situation should be handled when it's the other way around.

Indeed, your honor.

After spending the past fifteen years dealing with my father, I am not entirely certain how submissive I am. Since my mother's body fell on top of me at the foot of the stairs as a result of him striking her, I have been practicing the art of silent subversion of his authority and the dictates he issues whenever I have the chance.

When it is time for the Celebration of Matrimony, we make our way back to the altar and stand before the priest. Andrew uses an assured and low voice to recite his vows, and I have no doubt that even the visitors seated in the far rear of the church can hear every word of them quite clearly. Awestruck by the occasion and with my breath caught in my throat, I deliver my response in a much softer tone, but with no less dedication.

When it comes time to trade rings, I get quite nervous and try to keep it to myself.

But that is not necessary for me. The one piece of jewelry that is a wonderful match is the diamond circle that was intended for my sister to wear in conjunction with her engagement ring. Both of our fingers are long and slender, just like our mother's, which makes them perfect for playing the piano.

Andrew lightly runs the tip of his finger over the ring, appearing pleased to observe that I am wearing it on my finger.

When it's my turn to put his on, I find myself overcome with unanticipated emotion, and as I say my pledge, I find that my voice is shaking. "With this ring, I will wed thee," she said.

Until it is time for communion, all the priest says afterward is muted in my thoughts. After that, I watch with an odd sort of interest as Andrew takes his first sip from the cup before handing it to me to use. The wafer receives the same treatment from him. It has a really close and personal feel about it. The priest appears to be taken aback by Andrew's activities, but he doesn't object to what he's doing.

After the blessing on the marriage, he makes the official proclamation that we are now husband and wife and then grants Andrew permission to kiss the bride.

Andrew spins me around so that I am facing him and then grips the back of my head with one hand while sliding the other hand above my full skirt around my waist and pulling my body close with his. It's the closest thing to full body contact that I've ever had with a man, and it causes me to let out a gasp. His mouth smacks down on mine, and his tongue slides past my shocked lips as they part in surprise.

This is not a pure kiss that is appropriate for a wedding. My body is engulfed in a raging inferno of sensation as his mouth lays claim to mine.

I support myself by grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, which also brings him in closer to me at the same moment. My lips have never been kissed by a man, but they unconsciously imitate the movements of his, and I feel as though I have been transported to a universe that he has constructed where we are the only ones who live.

He pulls away from the kiss and stops it. I have a firm grip on his jacket and do not let go. He shows a grin.

"See you later, cara."

I give a slight nod, even though I have no idea what it is that I'm agreeing to. I have not yet emerged from the cloud of want that was generated when his lips were on mine.

When he starts to carefully take my fingers away from his tuxedo, that's when I snap out of it and remember who I am. I was so embarrassed that I immediately let go, as I did not want to look out over our wedding guests and see the amusement that was probably on several of their faces. I take a step back, but I fall because the length of my gown is too long.

Instead of allowing me to collapse, he catches me in his arms and starts walking down the aisle toward the back of the church.

"You can put me down," I remark in an embarrassed tone of voice. "I am able to walk."

"I enjoy having you on my back."

In addition to the fact that I do not know how to respond to that, my hip is already hurting from all of the standing in heels that I did during the ceremony. The tumble down the stairs so many years ago not only ruined my mother's life, but it also damaged other things as well.

It was also my hip, and ever since then, it has not been the same.

As a result, I let myself have fun while being carried around like a princess by wrapping my arms around Andrew's neck.