The Don's Contract Bride

Chapter 4 - I Married The Ruthless Don

In a back room at Il Toscano, Mrs. Russo helped me put on a white wedding dress that I hadn’t chosen as Renata watched from a nearby chair. I tried to look as calm as possible and hoped that no one could see that my hands were shaking.

Once the dress was on, I turned to look in a full length mirror. I was amazed at how well the dress fit. It was a beautiful lace number and was obviously the most expensive item of clothing that I had ever worn.

It wasn’t too late, I reminded myself. I could easily run out through the open door and, if I was fast, I could probably escape. But then I remembered what Marco had said. I was marked as a Moretti now. I was betrothed to a monster who would surely find me and destroy me. I didn’t have a choice. I had to marry him.

I tried to look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore and my mother’s house was saved.

*****

Moments later, I was holding a bouquet of lilies and Marco was walking me down the aisle to soft music. I was surprised to see dozens of guests stand and turn to watch me walk down the aisle. I didn't know any of these people, other than Marco and his family.

As I walked by Renata, she barely looked at me. Beside her were my half brothers. Vincent stayed seated but Dante gave me such a warm smile that it gave me the strength to make my way to the man waiting for me at the altar.

Seated on Luca's side were mostly his men, and seated on my side were Moretti men. Neither side looked happy to be in each other's company. The peace between them was fresh and felt fragile. One man on Luca's side didn't stand when I passed, he was dark-haired, younger than the rest, arms crossed like he was watching a play he didn't care for the ending of. I didn't know his name yet. I would learn it soon enough. Nico Bianchi.

Seated in the front row, I noticed a gorgeous young red-haired woman staring jealous daggers at me like I had stolen something. Then she looked at Luca like he belonged to her. Not with the venom of a stranger, but the wounded certainty of someone who'd once had reason to believe it. My stomach went tight. I kept walking.

Finally, I stopped in front of Luca. He stared down at me like a man assessing his dinner.

"Who gives this woman away?" the priest asked.

"Her father," Marco said, and it took me a second to realize he meant himself.

He put my hand in Luca's. Luca's palm was dry and huge. He didn't look at Marco when he took me. He looked at me like he'd already signed.

The priest opened his book. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God—"

"Wrap it up," Luca said. Not loud. The room heard him anyway. "We get the point."

Someone on the Romano side laughed and swallowed it. The priest blinked, then found a shorter page.

"Luca Romano, do you take this woman to be your wife?"

"I do."

No pause. No squeeze of my fingers. Nothing to suggest this was anything other than a business agreement between two powerful men - except that his free hand, hanging at his side where no one but me could see it from this angle, closed once into a fist and opened again before he offered it back to stillness.

"Isabella Harlow, do you take this man to be your husband?"

I looked past Luca's shoulder at the gate I could not see. Elena's keys were in a bowl in a bedroom that wasn't mine. The house. The folder. The name burned into me whether I wanted it or not.

"I do," I said.

It came out thin. It still counted as my answer.

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now—"

Luca's hand came up to the back of my neck. He kissed me once, hard enough that the front row would remember it, not long enough to be mistaken for tenderness. When he pulled back, his mouth was at my ear.

"Mine," he growled, only for me.

Marco clapped like this had gone according to plan.

Scattered applause from the wedding guests, except for Renata, Vincent, the red-headed woman in the front row, and the dark-haired man who hadn't stood - all of them still, for reasons that had nothing to do with each other and everything to do with me.

Luca kept my hand when we turned to face them. Not for comfort. So I couldn't drop it.

"Mrs. Romano," he said, and started walking. I had to follow. I wasn't given any other choice and the aisle only went in one direction.

Near the doors, his men had gone quiet in a different way than the rest of the room. They weren’t celebrating, they were watching. One of them said something low into his collar that I wasn't meant to hear. Luca didn't slow down.

Whatever was waiting for us outside those doors, my husband already knew about it. He just hadn't decided yet if I was allowed to.

I understood, with a lurch, that surviving the wedding wasn't the same thing as being safe now that it was over.