The Devil's Vow

CHAPTER THREE: The Wedding

Isabella's POV

I stared at the mirror, my hands trembling slightly as the seamstress adjusted the last fold of my dress. White, flowing, and delicate -so completely opposite of what my life had become in the past week.

Lucien had said very little that morning only a clipped, “You'll be ready on time". That had been it. No warmth, no encouragement, nothing that resembled the support one might expect on the morning of their wedding. I had expected at least some awkward attempt at conversation, but he had remained unreadable as always.

“Turn a little to the left", the seamstress instructed, pinning the fold of silk. I obliged, but my eyes kept flicking towards the door. Every time it opened, I imagined him stepping in- silent, intimidating, impossible.

When he finally did, I felt my stomach clench. He didn't say a word. He simply stood in the doorway, hands behind his back, gray eyes scanning me like he was measuring every flaw.

“You're late", he said, voice low, controlled.

“I... I'm not", I replied, forcing a smile.

He didn't return it. Not that I expected him to. Instead, he crossed the room in slow , deliberate steps, stopping just short of where I stood.“Do you understand what this means?"

I blinked. “I... I think so. Marriage. Alliance between our families".

He shook his head slightly. “You think. That's all it is to you. Its far more than that. For me, this isn't a ceremony. It's business. And you are a liability until you learn how to behave in this world ".

I swallowed, wishing I could hide my sudden pang of fear. “I... I'll do my best".

“Good". His eyes lingered on me, unreadable, before he turned sharply and walked away. I realized with a small twist in my chest, that this is how it would always be. Cold, distant, untouchable.

Lucien's POV

She doesn't belong here. Not really. This dress, this setting, this so-called celebration - none of it is hers. She's brilliant in her own world, yes, but completely unprepared for mine. She has no idea what she's walking into, and that is both dangerous and... fascinating.

I can feel the tension in her. The way she fidgets with her silk, the way her gaze darts towards the door. She's nervous, but she's trying to hide it. Smart. That will keep her alive. Maybe.

She's too naive, too inexperienced, too... human. And I can't allow that weakness to become my problem today. Rules, boundaries, control - I have to remind her of them. And I will.

Still... even standing here, silent, I notice how the fabric clings to her, how she carries herself despite her fears. I don't... admire it. I note it. I file it away. For later.

Isabella's POV

The ceremony was simple but grand. Every detail meticulously arranged from the flowers to the music to the small, guarded smiles of family members who clearly had their own agendas.

When I walked down the aisle, Lucien's gaze followed me. Piercing. Unwavering. I tried to keep my chin high, to act as though this wasn't terrifying, but I knew he saw everything - every tremor, every doubt.

When we stood before the officiant, I realized the truth: this marriage was nothing like what I had imagined. No love, no warmth. Just rules. Control. And the ever-present shadow of the man beside me, so beautiful and so so dangerous that I couldn't look away.

And somehow, that terrified me more than anything.