Sold to the Ruthless Sicilian Mafia Boss

Chapter 3

Chapter three.

The Wedding

~CASSIE’S POV~

I sat frozen on my bed, unwilling to move an inch. The relentless knocking at the door continued the unseen visitor determined to gain entry.

I wrapped my arms around myself, tears streaming down my cheeks, repeating to myself that I just needed to hold on until my uncle arrived. He would never leave me at the mercy of someone like this.

“Miss, I’m going to break this door down if you don’t open up! Don’t make me do this!” a voice shouted from the other side. The urgency in his tone caused me to jerk my head up.

I bit my lower lip, scanning the room for something—anything—to defend myself against who was trying so desperately to get in.

“Just leave me alone!” I yelled back, my voice cracking as I choked back more tears.

The banging intensified, then suddenly stopped. I held my breath, waiting to ensure that whoever was out there had finally left. After a few tense moments of silence, I slumped back on the bed.

Hours passed in this room, and my stomach growled, reminding me of my hunger. Finally, I decided to stand up and head toward the door. I was still wearing the transparent nightgown I had been given the night before.

I paused, torn between grabbing the doorknob and retreating to bed. But the persistent growling of my stomach kept me rooted in place.

Slowly, I unlocked the door, peeking out to see if anyone was still lurking in the hallway. To my relief, it was quiet. I slipped out and made my way downstairs, hopeful that I could find the kitchen.

Where was the staff? I wondered, marveling at the breathtaking architecture of the house. As I approached the long dining table, I thought to myself, “It must be lonely eating dinner here.”

Once I reached the well-equipped kitchen, I felt a wave of hesitation wash over me. What should I do? Without overthinking it, I pulled open the refrigerator door, stunned by the sight of it stocked full.

“My heaven, Lala would freak out seeing this,” I whispered, a smile breaking through my worries.

I fished out a slice of leftover pie and a glass of orange juice, scanning the kitchen for a microwave to heat the pie. My stomach growled impatiently, prompting me to eagerly grab the food.

Thank heavens I found the microwave! I opened it and placed the pie inside, my gaze fixed on the timer as my finger rhythmically tapped against the counter.

The microwave beeped, signaling that it was ready. I carefully took it out, then crouched down to unlock the lower drawer, retrieving a fork, eager to relinquish.

I paused for a moment, staring at the pristine plate set before me, a satisfied smile creeping onto my lips. As long as I could keep sneaking out every night to eat without running into anyone, I could manage just fine.

After savoring my plate, I tossed it into the sink and returned the jug of orange juice to the fridge. It was time to sneak back to my room.

As I reached the staircase, I froze, my eyes widening at the sight of Matteo standing at the bottom, his gaze locked on me.

“I heard you weren't coming out of your room. I was about to break down the door and drag you out myself,” he said, his voice cold and commanding.

I avoided his piercing blue eyes, which seemed to hold me in place. I could hear him approaching, and when he stood right in front of me, I finally lifted my gaze to meet his.

“I was hungry,” I managed to say, hating myself for my weak response.

He smirked, arms crossed and his intense gaze unwavering. What was he so busy staring at? I followed his line of sight and realized he was looking at my chest.

The thin fabric of my nightgown left little to the imagination, and I suddenly felt exposed, Without thinking, I quickly wrapped my arms around myself for cover.

“You don’t need to hide them, love. I think I’ve seen more than enough,” he said, his tone devoid of any shame.

“Pervert,” I muttered, biting my lower lip hard to contain my irritation.

He smiled, his dimples deepening as he lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I’m disappointed, wifey,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

I swatted his hand away, glaring at him. “I am not your wifey! Why do you keep calling me that?” I yelled, my rage bubbling over.

“You better wake up to reality, cupcake. I didn’t bring you here just to look at your face,” he retorted, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

I stared at him in confusion, struggling to grasp what he was saying. Wasn’t I brought here to work off my family’s debt? “Then why did you take me from my family if not to work?”

He laughed, a harsh sound that only deepened my hatred for him. “Your uncle sold you to me as my future wife. In return, my deceased father-in-law’s debt has been cleared. We’re family now, Amor.” He brushed his fingers lightly against my cheek, a gesture that made me recoil in disgust.

My heart raced as disbelief washed over me. My uncle wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t be so cruel. “You’re lying,” I shouted, desperation clawing at my throat.

“My uncle wouldn’t… he would never do that!” I clamped my hands over my mouth, collapsing to the floor as the weight of his words sank in.

Matteo’s eyes narrowed, devoid of any sympathy. “I don’t care if you’re having a meltdown or whatever charade you’re playing. The wedding is tomorrow,” he said coldly.

“What?!” I exclaimed, staring at him as if he had lost his mind. “I just got here yesterday! How can the wedding be tomorrow? I need to talk to my uncle!” I reached out for him, pleading from my position on the floor.

He yanked his hand away forcefully, causing me to stumble again. “You’ll see him after the wedding.”

“No, no, no… You can’t force me to marry you!” I managed to say, but Matteo leaned down, gripping my jaw with a force that made me wince. His icy gaze held me captive.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Either you marry me tomorrow, or I’ll put a bullet through your uncle and aunt at the altar.” His words sent a cold shiver down my spine, devoid of any compassion.

With a rough shove, he tossed me to the ground, and I groaned in pain as I struggled to regain my balance. As he stood and turned to head upstairs, he paused at the fifth step, glancing back at me.

“Your body?” he started, a wicked smile creeping across his lips. “I do like what I see.” Then he disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone with my fear and pain.

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself as I sat on the cold floor, tears streaming down my cheeks. All I wanted was to go home.

The morning had begun with strangers bustling in and out of my bedroom, their excitement a stark contrast to the dread settling in my heart.

They seemed more thrilled than the sacrificial hound bride being offered up to a monster twice her age.

“Oh my God, you look beautiful!” the makeup artist exclaimed, her eyes gleaming as she admired her handiwork in the mirror.

I stared at the face reflected at me—a stranger in my skin. When they brought in the wedding gown and urged me to put it on, I resisted, frozen in place.

“Miss, it would be best if you just put this on and get through with the wedding. Sir Matteo is not someone you want to disobey,” the woman said gently, though I could hear the underlying haste in her voice.

Matteo's threat against my uncle and aunt echoed ominously in my mind as I reluctantly slipped on the gown. It was beautiful—an elegant, off-shoulder lace creation—but why was he in such a hurry to marry?

The ceremony was set in the back garden of Matteo’s house. Clutching my bouquet of roses, I felt the veil cascade over my face as I began my walk down the flower-laden path toward the intricately designed altar.

My eyes scanned the crowd of unfamiliar faces, all seemingly connected to Matteo. Taking a deep breath, I approached the priest, who awaited me with an air of expectation.

“Where is your groom?” he leaned in to ask, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Why was he asking me that? This whole situation was Matteo's setup; if he was missing, shouldn't I feel a sense of relief? After all, I had no voice in this sudden, terrifying wedding.

Murmurs rippled through the guests as they glanced around, and deep down, I wished he wouldn’t make it.

“I hope I’m not late to my wedding.”

Matteo’s voice cut through the din of chatter and whispers, causing every head to turn in his direction. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him.

“What the hell…” I gasped.

But before I could say anything more, he moved closer, his footsteps steady despite the gruesome sight that greeted me—he was covered in blood.