Beneath His Hidden Love

Forced vow

Guilt flickered across Robert's face. "Yes she is, Mr. Romano."

Nathalie's heart hammered.

Tasha watched from the landing, nails digging into the wooden railing. "Lucky, yet unlucky," she muttered.

Lucian's anger faded at the sight of his mother in her, but his jaw tightened. He would still make her pay for her indifference.

Robert and his wife stepped back as Lucian rose.

Nathalie's breath caught. Her eyes fixed on his bloodstain suit. Tears finally spilled.

"You look very young. How old are you?" Lucian asked, circling her, contempt in his eyes.

"She's eighteen." Tasha cut in as she descended the stairs. "And not exactly pleasant company."

Her crimson dress hugged her figure, designed to draw Lucian's attention. Instead his gaze only landed on her briefly before sliding away.

"Teach your eldest daughter when to speak—and when to stay silent, Robert," Taran said coldly.

"Please, Mr. Romano. Forgive her. She's young and foolish. She meant no disrespect."

Tasha's smile waned.

Lucian turned to Nathalie. "Do you understand why I'm taking you as my wife?"

"Y-yes, sir."

He scoffed. "Taran, how much does her father owe me?"

"Two hundred million dollars, Boss."

Lucian's gaze hardened. He lifted Nathalie's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Your father owes me a fortune. And you're the price."

Her sob hitched.

"My rules are simple. You obey me. You don't leave my mansion without permission. And most importantly..." He paused. "No male friends."

Nathalie blanched.

Lucian's thumb grazed her lips. His voice dropped. "Cross me, and you'll regret it. Betray me and I'll make you wish you never became my wife."

His eyes held hers.

"You're mine now."

The words shattered something inside her.

Lucian released her and sat. "What about the remaining payment?"

Robert stepped forward. "I'll pay in a few days, Mr. Romano."

"You have two days," Lucian said, his voice gravelly.

Robert's face drained.

"Fail to pay, and your other daughter becomes the collateral," Lucian added.

Lydia's phone slipped from her hand. "What?"

Tasha went rigid.

"You're fortunate, Robert. If my father hadn't known you, you'd be buried in my living room."

Robert gulped.

Lucian glanced at Taran and nodded.

"Where are the documents?" Taran asked.

Lydia handed them over. He inspected the pages before nodding.

Lucian checked his wristwatch. "What's taking him so long?"

"He'll be here shortly, Boss."

Robert's brow furrowed as he glanced at his wife.

"We've given you the documents and the girl. What else—"

"Forget the planned date. The marriage happens today," Taran interrupted.

Nathalie gasped and turned to her father. "Dad?" She sank to her knees. "Please, say something."

Tasha watched with barely hidden satisfaction. Then the pastor entered, escorted by one of Lucian's men.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Romano. I—"

"Save it, Mikhail," Lucian cut him off. "Begin the ceremony. Skip the sermon."

The pastor dipped his chin. "Please stand with your bride."

Lucian rose, but Nathalie hesitated.

"Drag her here if necessary," Lucian ordered.

Taran hauled Nathalie to her feet.

"Do you take Miss Nathalie Boris as your—"

"Yes."

The pastor turned to Nathalie. "Do you take Mr. Lucian Romano as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Silence.

She stared at Lucian. His cold stare met hers, but behind his mask, something unreadable flickered. For one heartbeat, neither of them looked away.

"No. I don't."

Robert's face went white.

"Are you insane?" Lydia screamed.

Tasha's eyes lit with hope. "Finally," Tasha said quietly.

Lucian didn't move. He simply studied Nathalie.

"Why would I become your slave to save this family?" she demanded, her voice wavering. "I won't marry someone who treats me like a property."

Lucian's jaw tightened.

"I refuse this marriage," Nathalie said through tears.

A dangerous smile tugged at Lucian's masked lips. "Interesting," he murmured. He yanked her hair. "Then perhaps... we need to discuss what happens when you say no to me."

"Get on with it, Mikhail. She has no choice," Lucian seethed.

"I do!" Nathalie shouted.

Lucian slipped Taran's pistol from its holster. The cold barrel pressed against Nathalie's cheek.

"One more word," he growled, "and I'll splatter your f*****g brains across these tiles."

The room went silent. Nathalie squeezed her eyes shut, too terrified to speak.

"I thought as much."

His grip slackened.

"Mikhail?"

"Yes, Mr Romano."

"I'm not leaving here without my wife. So complete the vow."

The pastor's hands quaked around the Bible. "Miss Nathalie Boris. Do you take Mr.—"

"Yes, I do," she whispered, her lips quivering.

"Please provide the rings," the pastor said.

"That won't be necessary," Lucian replied curtly.

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

The pastor brought out the marriage certificate.

Lucian signed, then seized Nathalie's hand and forced the pen into her fingers.

"I have a traitor to slaughter, so don't waste my time."

Her hand shook as she wrote her name, each stroke feeling like a sentence.

"Take her to the car," Lucian commanded.

Taran pulled her away, but her eyes stayed on the family that had sealed her fate.

Later that night, Nathalie sat on the bed, wind tapping the windows. Exhaustion weighed on her as the memory of Lucian's pistol against her cheek replayed in her mind. Then she heard voices outside.

"Why would you marry her in such a degrading manner, Lucian?" Moretti Romano demanded.

Lucian snorted. "You arranged this marriage, Father. But I don't remember agreeing to let you dictate how I treat my wife."

"Watch your tone."

"I'll use whatever tone I damn well please." Lucian's voice hardened. "That girl is mine now. So back off."

"Shut your mouth, boy!" Moretti snapped. "I raised you with love and honour—"

Lucian's bitter laugh cut him off. "Seriously?" He sneered. "You're no saint, old man. You trained me. Shaped me. Every cruel lesson, every punishment—you made me who I am."

Silence followed.

"Did I?" Moretti asked, his tone low. "Yet you don't act like me. You have no idea what being punished feels like or what I've sacrificed for us to be here."

"Look at me, Father." Lucian's voice went cold.

Moretti did.

"I am you."

Every word landed like a blow.

"I'm the son you created. If you hate what you see, then look in the mirror."

Nathalie gripped the bedsheet. She had barely entered the family, yet she could already feel the bitterness between father and son.

"People change, Lucian. And I won't give up on you."

"You should," Lucian said firmly. "The damage you've done can't be undone. I'm not my mother, who couldn't see through your lies, Father. Nothing absolves you."

"I'm doing everything I can to make things right!" Moretti's voice cracked. "Why can't you let me?"

Lucian grinned. "Because some mistakes don't deserve forgiveness."

Moretti's face fell.

Lucian turned away. "Consider this marriage the last favour you'll ever receive from me."

He walked away, leaving Moretti staring after him. But before Lucian reached the door, Moretti spoke.

"I'm not foolish, son. I know exactly why I chose her for you."

Lucian stopped dead.

Moretti's voice dropped. "She bears the face of the only woman who could ever change you."

Lucian froze.

His hand tightened around the doorknob.

Slowly, he turned. "What did you just say?"