A Bride in chains.

Aria

The wedding dress arrived at dawn, delivered by silent staff who wouldn't meet my eyes. It was beautiful. I hated it immediately.

White silk that probably cost more than a car, fitted perfectly to measurements I'd never given. Someone had been watching me, studying me, long before that night my world burned. The thought made my skin crawl.

"Mrs. Moretti?" A soft voice at the door. A woman in her fifties, dark hair pulled back severely. "I'm Elena. I'm here to help you prepare."

"I don't need help."

"Mr. Moretti insists." She stepped inside, carrying a makeup case. "The ceremony begins in three hours."

Three hours until I became his wife. His property. His living trophy.

I wanted to tear the dress to shreds. Instead, I let Elena work in silence, painting my face into a mask of bridal perfection. She was gentle, efficient, and completely unreadable. When she finished, I barely recognized the woman in the mirror.

"Beautiful," Elena murmured. Then, quieter: "I'm sorry." Before I could respond, she was gone.

+++++++

The ceremony took place in the mansion's grand hall, transformed into something out of a fairy tale. White roses everywhere, their scent thick and cloying. Crystal chandeliers throwing rainbow light across marble floors. A string quartet playing soft music. And people. So many people.

Men in expensive suits with cold eyes and expensive watches. Women dripping in diamonds and designer gowns. The elite of the criminal underworld, gathered to witness Luca Moretti claim his prize.

I walked down the aisle alone. No father to give me away, he'd already done that, sold me like livestock. My hands shook as I clutched a bouquet of white lilies, funeral flowers dressed up for a wedding.

Luca stood at the altar in a black tuxedo that fit him like sin. His dark eyes tracked my every step, possessive and hungry. When I reached him, he extended his hand. I didn't take it.

His jaw tightened, but his smile never wavered. He leaned in close, lips nearly brushing my ear. "Careful, princess. We have an audience."

"Let them watch," I whispered back. "Let them see what you really are."

"They already know." His hand closed around mine anyway, firm and unyielding. "And they don't care."

The officiant began speaking. Words about love and honor and forever. Lies, all of it. I barely heard them over the rushing in my ears, the panic clawing up my throat.

"Do you, Aria Valente, take Luca Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The hall went silent. Every eye on me. Waiting. Luca's grip tightened on my hand, a clear warning. "I do." The words tasted like poison.

"And do you, Luca Moretti, take Aria Valente to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." He said it with such conviction, such certainty, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment.

"You may kiss the bride."

Luca turned to me, and I saw something flash in his eyes. Something dark and wanting. He cupped my face with both hands, thumbs stroking my cheeks, and for a moment I thought he'd be gentle. Then he kissed me.

It wasn't gentle. It was claiming. Possessive. His mouth moved over mine with practiced skill, demanding a response I refused to give. I stood rigid, fists clenched at my sides, even as heat pooled low in my belly. Traitor body.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were blazing. "Perfect," he murmured against my lips, loud enough for the front row to hear. "My perfect wife."

Applause erupted. Fake smiles and hollow congratulations. I smiled too, a brittle thing that hurt my face, and let Luca guide me back down the aisle. His arm around my waist felt like an iron chain.

++++++++

The reception was worse. Luca played his part flawlessly, the devoted husband, attentive and charming. He kept me close, one hand always on me. My waist. My back. My hand. Little touches that looked affectionate but felt like ownership.

"You're doing well," he said during our first dance, his breath warm against my temple. "Keep it up."

"Go to hell." But I kept smiling, kept moving in his arms as the quartet played.

"We've established I'm already there." His hand slid lower on my back, dangerously close to inappropriate. "The question is, how deep will you follow me?"

"I'm not following you anywhere."

"No?" He spun me suddenly, pulling me flush against his chest. "Then why is your heart racing? Why are you breathing faster?"

"Because I hate you."

"Hate." He said it like he was tasting the word. "Such a passionate emotion. Almost as passionate as.."

"Don't." I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. "Don't you dare."

His laugh was low, dark. "You feel it too. This thing between us. You can lie to yourself, princess, but you can't lie to me."

"There's nothing between us except a contract signed in blood."

"Keep telling yourself that." His lips brushed my ear, and I hated the shiver that ran through me. "But we both know the truth. You're drawn to me, even as you hate me. It's delicious."

The song ended. I stepped back immediately, putting space between us. But I could still feel the imprint of his hands, the heat of his body. I needed air.

++++++++

The wedding night arrived too quickly. Luca's bedroom was massive, all dark wood and black silk, masculine and intimidating. A king bed dominated the space, and I stared at it with growing dread.

"Relax." Luca appeared behind me, jacket discarded, tie loosened. "I'm not going to touch you."

I spun to face him. "What?"

"Not tonight." He moved to the bar cart, poured himself whiskey. "Not until you want me to."

"That'll never happen."

"Won't it?" He took a slow sip, eyes never leaving mine. "You think I haven't noticed how you respond to me? The way your pupils dilate when I get close? How does your breath catch?"

"That's fear."

"Is it?" He set down the glass, stalked toward me like a predator. I backed up until I hit the wall. He caged me in, arms on either side of my head, close enough that I could smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath. "Fear and desire look remarkably similar, princess. But I can tell the difference."

"You're delusional."

"Am I?" His hand came up to trace my jawline, feather-light. "Then why are you trembling?"

"Because you disgust me."

"Liar." His thumb brushed my lower lip, and I gasped before I could stop myself. His smile was pure sin. "You want to hate me. I understand that. But your body? Your body knows exactly what it wants."

He stepped back suddenly, and I nearly collapsed without his presence holding me up.

"You'll come to me willingly," he said softly, returning to his drink. "And when you do, when you beg me to touch you, to take you, I'll own your soul, Aria. Not just your body or your name. Your soul."

"Never."

"We'll see." He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Sleep well, Mrs. Moretti. The guest room is across the hall. I had your things moved there."

"You're not, we're not.."

"Not tonight," he repeated. "I'm a patient man when the prize is worth it. And you, princess, are worth the wait." I fled before he could see the tears starting to fall.

+++++++

I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and something cold around my neck. My hand flew up, fingers closing around metal. A necklace, heavy, ornate, impossible to remove. I stumbled to the mirror, and my blood ran cold.

The Moretti crest, engraved in platinum, rested against my collarbone. Beautiful and horrifying. A note lay on my nightstand, Luca's bold handwriting:

A wedding gift. The crest marks you as mine. The chip inside ensures I always know where you are. Run, and I'll find you. Hide, and I'll hunt you. You're mine now, in every way that matters. —L

I clawed at the necklace, desperate, but there was no clasp. No way to remove it without tools I didn't have. He'd collared me like an animal.

And somewhere in this mansion, I knew he was watching, waiting to see what I'd do next.

I looked at my reflection, at the branded bride staring back at me and made a silent vow. He wanted a war? He'd get one. But first, I needed to learn the rules of his game and then I'd destroy him with them..