CHAPTER 1: I Do. Or Do I?

Sophia's POV

The smile on my face felt like a carefully constructed mask. That's the only way I can describe it. This mask on my face as I walked down what should be the aisle of my dreams.

Every girl dreams about this day, right? The white dress, the flowers, and the man waiting at the end like Prince Charming finally found his Cinderella or whatever.

Cinderella got a fairy godmother. I got whatever the opposite of that is. A demon godmother, maybe. One with really expensive taste in real estate.

The chapel was beautiful, I'll give them that. With crystal chandeliers and fresh flowers everywhere. But here's the thing about beautiful settings. They can lie just as well as ugly ones. I've learned that the hard way.

My father walked beside me with his arm stiff through mine like he'd rather be anywhere else. Probably planning his escape route.

I couldn't blame him. If I had a choice, I'd be five states away right now, drinking something strong and forgetting this whole thing ever happened. But we don't get choices, do we? Not in our world.

I scanned the crowd as we moved slowly toward the front.

Everyone sat in their expensive attire like they were attending a funeral rather than a wedding. Maybe they were. Part of me died a little when I signed those papers last week.

It was like I was a lamb walking straight to the slaughter. And you know what? They weren't wrong.

Luca Rossi stood at the altar like he was made by some Renaissance sculptor who had a really bad day.

He had dark hair and gray eyes that could freeze you. He was dressed in a black tux, and he wore it like armor while his face gave no emotion away.

Those eyes met mine, and for one terrible moment, I struggled with breathing.

There was nothing in his gaze. No tenderness and no desire, just calculation, like I was a chess piece he's decided to keep rather than sacrifice.

My stomach twisted into knots, and that smile on my face felt even more like a death sentence.

Don't look at him, I told myself. Just keep walking. One foot in front of the other. You can do this. But my feet didn't want to cooperate. They wanted to run.

My father squeezed my arm as his little reminder to behave, to be the good daughter I'd always been.

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask him how he could do this to me. How he could sell his only daughter to the most dangerous man in Manhattan like she was a piece on a chessboard.

But I didn't. Because I was Sophia Moretti and we didn't scream. We smiled through the pain and drank our champagne like everything was perfectly fine.

That's what they taught us, right? Preserve the family name at all costs, even when the family name was selling you to the enemy.

We reached the end of the aisle and my father transferred my hand to Luca like he was handing over keys to a car, and then retreated to his seat, already pulling out his phone like this was a business transaction, which I supposed it was.

“You are trembling.”

His voice was low in a way that made heat curl in my stomach against my will.

I hated that my body responded to him like this. Hated that even then, standing in front of this man who clearly despised me, part of me found him sexy.

“I'm cold.”

I lied, because admitting the truth would have meant admitting I was scared. And I wasn't. I wasn't supposed to be. Morettis didn't show fear.

He studied me for a moment, and I swore I saw something flicker in those gray depths. Was it interest? Amusement? Before I could figure it out, it was gone and replaced by that same cold indifference.

“Warm up quickly,” he said. “We don't have all day.”

The priest, a nervous-looking older man, began the ceremony.

I barely heard the words though. Something about love and honor and till death do us part. If only the priest knew the irony of those words in a marriage like this one.

Luca and I weren't marrying for love. We were marrying because our families had bled each other for years and someone had finally decided the only way to stop the body count was to tie our families together with matrimonial chains.

After two dead brothers, four cousins, and an uncle who'd never walk again, I was supposed to smile through all of it and pretend I was marrying for love.

The priest got to the part about objections, and I swore I held my breath.

“Say something,” some desperate part of me begged. “Stop this.”

But of course, no one did. The chapel stayed silent as a graveyard because no one in their right mind would object to a wedding of the Rossi family, not when Luca Rossi could make a man's life a living hell with a single nod.

The priest moved on to the vows, and Luca went first, reciting his lines like he was reading a stock report. When he finished, it was my turn, and my voice came out steadier than I expected.

“I, Sophia Maria Moretti, take thee, Luca Antonio Rossi, to be my lawfully wedded husband...”

The words tasted bitter in my mouth, but I said them anyway. Because I had to. Because there were no other options.

The priest cleared his throat.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

There it was. The moment every bride waited for. The kiss that sealed the deal. The so-called fairy-tale ending.

Luca leaned in, and for one crazy second, I thought he might actually do it. That he might press his lips to mine in front of all those people and actually make this feel like a real wedding. I hated myself for hoping.

His mouth brushed my ear instead.

“Don't get too comfortable. This is just a business arrangement. It won't last,” he whispered.

He pulled back, and his gray eyes met mine with something that might have been confirmation that I was exactly as disposable as I'd always suspected.

The priest, bless his nervous heart, tried again.

“Sir, the kiss... it's customary...”

Luca didn't even look at him. He just raised one hand, and suddenly his men were moving. One of them walked straight up to the priest and grabbed his arm.

“Father Giuseppe will finish the ceremony,” Luca said, his voice echoing through the silent chapel. “He's much more... flexible.”

What happened next was like something out of a nightmare. The priest was dragged out the back door, quietly like they'd done this a hundred times before.

Murmurs rose from the crowd, but no one dared to speak up. No one dared to challenge Don Luca Rossi.

Two minutes later, a different priest stumbled in and nervously finished the ceremony. I was Mrs. Rossi, and while everyone was clapping, I felt like I was watching my own life from very far away.

The reception was quite painful. Luca disappeared almost immediately with his men flanking him like shadow bodyguards, and I was left to play the happy bride.

It wasn't long before his men came to lead me away to his car, and his driver took me to my new home, alone.

The house was stupidly beautiful. That was the only word for it. Beautiful in a way that was almost offensive.

My escort left me in what he called “the master's suite” with a promise that Luca would join me later.

Great. I got to wait for my husband like a dog waiting for its owner.

I explored the room because I didn't know what else to do.

Everything was expensive and cold, like this man really wasn't trying to live a happy life. To have all that money, fame, and power, and he was clearly far from happy.

I sat on the edge of the bed and finally let the mask slip.

What the hell was I doing here?

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling the stress of the day weighing me down. The dress was uncomfortable, and the tiara was digging into my head.

My eyes drifted closed at last from weariness, and when I opened them again, the room was dark. I didn't recall turning off the lights.

For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The bed was strange, and the room was strange too. But then it all came flooding back, with a sudden movement in the dark and a sound. A sound of something being ripped impatiently.

My heart stopped, and I lay perfectly still, barely breathing and straining to hear over the sound of my own heartbeat.

The sound came again, with fabric ripping, the sound of my wedding gown being shredded roughly by strong hands…!