Contract Marriage with the Don

Bound by Vows

The chapel was silent, the kind of silence that wasn't peace but suffocation. Candles flickered along the marble altar, their flames swaying with every draft, throwing long, restless shadows across the floor. The air smelled faintly of incense, but it did little to mask the metallic tension clinging to the room.

Elena's hands trembled inside the thin lace gloves someone had forced on her. The gown they had shoved her into-a silk, ivory thing that clung too tightly around her ribs-did not feel like hers. It wasn't the dress of a bride who chose love. It was a costume for a girl being sold.

She could barely hear the muttered Latin of the priest, because all she could hear was the steady rhythm of her heartbeat in her ears. Too fast. Too loud. Too desperate.

Her eyes flicked sideways, to the man who stood beside her.

Adrian Moretti.

Even in the soft glow of candlelight, he looked untouchable. His tailored suit was flawless, his black tie knotted with military precision. He stood with a posture that spoke of command, as though even the chapel bowed to him. The man radiated confidence, control, danger.

And yet, his hand rested loosely at his side-not touching her, not offering comfort, not even acknowledging her fear. His gaze was locked on the priest, cold and steady, like this entire ceremony was just another business transaction.

Elena swallowed hard, her throat burning. She wanted to run. Every instinct screamed at her to flee. But the guards near the chapel doors-stone-faced men in black-made it clear there was no escape.

Her father sat in the front pew, shoulders hunched, face pale. His hands twisted together as though in prayer, but his eyes refused to meet hers. He had traded her away, and the weight of his cowardice pressed down on her chest like a stone.

The priest's words cut through the heavy air: "Do you, Adrian Moretti, take this woman-"

"I do."

The words fell from his lips like iron. No hesitation, no wavering. Just finality.

Elena's pulse stumbled. Her body froze as the priest's gaze shifted to her. "Do you, Elena Romano, take this man-"

She couldn't breathe. The words clung to her tongue, refusing to form. Every fiber of her being screamed no. But when she lifted her eyes and met Adrian's, she saw something there-something sharp, something that warned her what would happen if she dared defy him.

Her father's debts. Her brother's safety. Her own fragile life.

Her lips trembled, but the whisper left her anyway. "I... I do."

The chapel seemed to exhale, the silence breaking under the priest's final words, the sign of the cross, and the pronouncement that sealed her fate.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Husband and wife.

The words didn't feel real until Adrian turned, finally looking at her. His hand slid to the small of her back, firm, commanding, and he lowered his head.

The kiss was nothing like she imagined a wedding kiss should be. There was no tenderness, no sweetness. His lips pressed against hers with possession, not affection. He kissed her like he was claiming her, marking her, sealing her into a contract she could never break.

Her knees threatened to give way, but his grip on her spine held her upright, forcing her to endure the penetrating invasion.

When he pulled away, her breath shuddered out, and she realized she had been holding it the whole time. His eyes lingered on her, cold fire smoldering in their depths, before he turned to face the room as though daring anyone to challenge what had just taken place.

The guards stood straighter. Her father finally looked up, his expression a strange blend of relief and guilt.

But Elena... Elena felt hollow.

The priest dismissed them, but before she could move, Adrian's hand closed around hers, his grip unyielding. He didn't ask, didn't guide gently-he led her with the certainty of a man who expected obedience.

They stepped out into the night.

The black cars waited outside, sleek and menacing under the streetlights. Rain had begun to fall, coating the pavement in a glossy sheen, and Elena's reflection stared back at her from the wet ground-pale, frightened, solely unrecognizable.

Adrian opened the car door, and when she hesitated, his eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.

"Inside," he said softly, but the threat laced beneath the word was unmistakable.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up, sliding into the leather seat. The door shut, and a second later, he was beside her, his presence filling the confined space.

The car rolled forward, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows. Elena pressed herself against the door, trying to create distance, but his voice found her anyway.

"You wear fear like a veil," he said, his tone almost amused. "But that will change."

She turned her head toward him, anger sparking despite the terror. "You can't just-just force me into this. I didn't choose you."

His lips curved, a shadow of something like a smirk. "No. You didn't choose me. But fate did." His eyes darkened. "And now you're mine, Elena. By contract. By law. And By oath."

Her stomach twisted. "This isn't marriage. This is a prison."

He leaned closer, his scent rich leather and spice wrapping around her, suffocating. His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her.

"Then learn quickly, little bride. A prison can become a kingdom if you know how to survive."

The words sank into her bones, chilling her. She turned her face away, refusing to let him see the tears gathering in her eyes.

Outside, the city stretched endlessly, but Elena had never felt so trapped.

The man beside her wasn't just her husband.

He was her captor.