Chapter 4
1306 Words
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 onto mine, looking intensely into them.
“I do,” he said finally.
“And do you, Isadora Volkov, take Lorenzo Ricci to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I said barely above a whisper,
My own voice sounded unfamiliar, almost as if someone else had spoken for me.
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.
It lasted barely a second, yet my pulse reacted as though he’d held my hand for minutes.
“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 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 floor, my hand brushing his as we made our way toward the door. 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 for one last look. I was wearing a sultry champagne silk gown studded with crystals. The dress clung to my frame, slipping off one shoulder and pooling like liquid over my curves, while a diamond necklace my father had given me sparkled at my throat.
He offered me his arm, and I hesitated for a moment before slipping my hand into his.
“Good to see you again,” he said suddenly.
I couldn’t think of a response, so I simply cleared the lump that had formed in my throat.
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 resting lightly against the small of my back.
We eventually reached the table where our fathers discussed their newly formed alliance with a group of powerful associates.
“Welcome to the Ricci family, Isadora,” Alessandro Ricci said in a thick Italian accent.
“I am more than pleased to be part of it,” 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 replied calmly.
“Isadora?” he repeated, as though confirming something.
“That’s my maternal grandmother’s name,” I explained. “She’s of Italian-Greek origin.”
“Ah… how classical,” he said approvingly.
I acknowledged him with a polite smile.
“To a successful alliance,” my father said, raising his glass slightly.
Everyone followed, lifting their glasses before they clinked 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 sat on a private road, just after nightfall.
The gates opened, and the car rolled through a long driveway 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.
It stretched wide with towering gates, long driveways, perfectly trimmed hedges, and security guards 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 sound of the door 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 its 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, amusement flickering beneath the surface.
“I’m never satisfied. But you… you’re sharper than I expected.”
I had expected him to see only a replacement.
“I’ll do my best to live up to expectations,” I said lightly, letting the words sound humble.
“Dinner is served,” the butler announced, interrupting us.
He had an aged, polished European voice, a neatly trimmed moustache, and a calm, unreadable expression.
“I won’t be dining tonight,” I replied, hoping I sounded as composed as I intended.
“Very well, Madam,” he replied before turning his attention to Lorenzo.
“Same here,” Lorenzo said.
“As you wish, sir.”
He was about to turn away when I spoke.
“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, extending one arm subtly to guide the way, his palm open.
It wasn’t until I reached the stairs that I realized Lorenzo was right behind me.
I ignored him and continued upstairs.
The butler opened the door silently and stepped aside for me to enter.
The moment I walked in, Lorenzo followed.
The butler shut the door immediately behind us.
I folded my arms, watching him as he walked toward the bed.
“And what are you doing here?” I asked.
He stopped abruptly and turned to face me before beginning to unbutton his shirt.
He started walking toward me, and I instinctively stepped backward until the door stopped me.
My breath hitched.
This couldn’t be happening. I told myself to stay calm, but my body clearly hadn’t received the message.
My heart raced as he closed the distance, close enough for me to catch the scent of his cologne, cedar with something darker beneath it, like smoke.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I felt myself getting lost in their depths.
Wonderful. Married for less than twelve hours and my husband was already taking his shirt off in my room
He kept coming closer.
And I braced myself—
- Writer
