Chapter 4: Go Away

Arianna 

 The church doors closed behind us with a heavy thud, sealing in the last echoes of the ceremony. I felt his fingers tighten slightly around mine as we walked down the front steps into the chaos waiting outside.

 Petals rained. Flashes burst from camera phones. Cheers and congratulations followed us like waves.

 He kept his eyes forward. His grip on my hand was steady, firm but impersonal.

 I tried to convince myself it meant something.

 Maybe he just doesn’t like public displays of affection.

 Maybe that’s why he didn’t kiss me on the lips.

 Maybe… things will be different when we’re alone.

 The car door was opened for us, and he let go of my hand without a glance. We slid into the back seat of the black sedan, the sound of the door slamming behind us cutting off the crowd.

 Silence fell instantly.

 He stared out the window. I stared at my hands in my lap.

 We sat like strangers.

 Which, technically, we were.

 The ride to the hotel took twenty minutes. The longest, most awkward twenty minutes of my life. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I didn’t know if he expected me to speak or stay silent, and I didn’t want to guess wrong.

 By the time we arrived at the grand hotel where the reception was already in full swing, I had chewed the inside of my cheek raw.

 The doors opened to applause and lights and clapping hands. He took my hand again as we entered, and we were announced like royalty. Everyone stood.

 Everyone watched. But I couldn’t feel anything.

 I felt… disconnected, like I was floating above the whole thing, watching it happen to someone else.

 The music began, signaling the first dance. Someone nudged us forward.

 I hesitated.

 He didn’t.

 His hand slid around my waist, his other closed over mine. We stepped onto the dance floor together under the chandelier’s golden light.

 The music was slow, dreamy—something out of a movie. But his touch was... cold. Polite.

 There was no tension. No intimacy. Just two people swaying in a room full of strangers pretending to celebrate something sacred.

 I tried not to cry. I really did.

 I pressed my lips together tightly and kept my chin up. I was raised for this. Trained to serve the man my father chose for me. I have to be strong.

 He doesn’t love me. I knew that already. This wasn’t news. So why did it still sting so badly?

 I should be grateful, I told myself. At least he’s not cruel. At least he’s not drunk and leering and old. At least he’s not beating me into obedience.

 I tried to clear my mind, push away the sadness—but that only made it worse. Because clearing my mind meant noticing his scent again, that quiet masculine cologne that clung to his suit. And when I leaned against him, just slightly, my cheek brushing his chest, I could hear his heartbeat.

 Fast.

 His breath exhaled against the top of my head like a sigh, but I didn’t know if it was exhaustion or regret.

 The song ended.

 He pulled away like I was contagious. Like I burned.

 I lifted my chin and forced a smile. Back straight, eyes forward. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing me crumble.

 If he didn’t want this marriage, I thought bitterly, he shouldn’t have agreed to it. Unlike me, he had a choice.

 “Hey.”

 I turned to find Ilaria beside me, graceful in her long dress, her eyes kind. She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

 “Be patient with him,” she said gently. “He’s been through more than people know.”

 I nodded silently, even though I didn’t really want to hear it.

 “I promise,” she added, “beneath all of that... there’s a good man in there.”

 Before I could respond, Antonio joined us, looking effortlessly powerful in his suit. He extended a hand. “Mrs. Romano,” he said, kissing the back of my hand, “officially.”

 I smiled, unsure of what to say.

 Ilaria cracked a teasing smile, glancing toward Enzo.

 “Should we tell her he actually smiled when he saw her walking down the aisle?”

 Antonio chuckled. “Barely. But for him, that’s like a standing ovation.”

 I laughed softly, surprised by how normal they were. How human.

 They left us alone shortly after, returning to their circle of captains and allies. Enzo and I sat at our private table in silence. The food in front of us was untouched. The wine, however, was quickly disappearing from his glass. Then his second. Then his third.

 He didn’t say a word to me.

 I wanted to tell him to stop. I opened my mouth once but closed it just as fast.

 His eyes were red now. Not wild, just… exhausted. He wasn’t sloppy or swaying. But he was somewhere else entirely.

 “I want to get out of here,” he finally said, his voice low, his gaze not meeting mine. “I can’t stand this many people anymore.”

 I nodded. My voice didn’t work. My throat had gone tight again.

 We’re leaving.

 We’ll be alone.

 In the room. For the first time.

 My mind started to spiral.

 Everything my sister said came back to me all at once. The pain. The pretending. The moaning. The shutting my eyes and disappearing.

 He stood and took my hand, and I followed automatically, my legs numb.

 “We’re leaving,” he said to Antonio, who raised his glass slightly in farewell.

 As we crossed the room, people noticed. Someone from a far table shouted, “Tire her out, Romano!” followed by loud, ugly laughter.

 I almost died of embarrassment.

 Enzo didn’t say anything. Just snorted and kept walking.

 The elevator ride was silent, the doors closing us into a silver capsule of tension. My skin buzzed.

 When we reached the top floor, he pulled out the key card and opened the door to the presidential suite.

 For a second, my stomach clenched—he was going to drag me in, press me to the wall, take what everyone said was his.

 But he didn’t.

 He stepped inside first, then held the door for me. The suite was luxurious and cold—marble floors, massive windows, a fully stocked bar. Two large doors on either side of the living space.

 He pointed to one of them.

 “That’s your room,” he said. “You can go rest.”

 I blinked. “What?”

 “Go to sleep,” he said louder, not unkind, but sharp. Final.

 I took a step back out of fear. His tone had changed.

 “I’m not going to hit you, Arianna,” he said, sounding tired now. “I’m not going to touch you. In any way. Just… go. I’ve had a shitty day and I just want to go to bed.”

 He moved to the bar and poured himself another drink, downing it without pause.

 I still hadn’t moved.

 He turned and saw me still standing there, frozen, confused, embarrassed.

 His voice rose again. “Go away, Arianna!”

 “Leave me the fuck alone.”

 The shout made me flinch. The tears came instantly.

 I turned and walked stiffly toward the room he pointed at. My hand trembled as I opened the door.

 Once inside, I leaned back against it and let my body collapse to the floor.

 A single, quiet sob escaped my lips.

 This night wasn’t supposed to be like this.

 Enzo Romano definitely hated me.