His Secret Obsession

 Chapter 1

How does it feel to stand at the wedding of the man you thought loved you?

I hope no one ever has to find out.

My tears had stopped hours ago. Not because the pain had lessened, but because my body had finally run out of them. My eyes felt dry and swollen, the skin beneath them tender from a night without sleep. I had hidden the damage beneath four layers of concealer and enough eyeliner to make my hands shake, then stared at my reflection until I almost believed the lie looking back at me.

It's okay, Arie. You can get through this.

I had repeated those words so many times that they no longer sounded like mine.

If the choice had been in my hands, I would have run before sunrise. I would have left the dress hanging in the wardrobe, abandoned the flowers, ignored every call, and disappeared from this city before anyone could stop me. I would have run from the wedding, from my family, and most of all, from him.

But the choice had never been mine.

So there I stood beside the altar, dressed in emerald satin as one of the bridesmaids, holding a bouquet so tightly that the stems pressed into my palms. In a few minutes, my cousin Bianca Romano - the girl who had grown up beside me like a sister - would marry Nicholas Contini.

The man I had believed was my everything.

The man I had believed loved me.

Now I understood what I had truly been to him: a secret he could enjoy until something more useful came along. A pawn he could remove from the board the moment power demanded a better move.

The thought should have made me angry. Instead, it left me numb.

I could not remember the last time I had eaten with any real appetite. For days, food had tasted like dust. Sleep came only in broken pieces, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nicholas telling me there was nothing to worry about. I heard the certainty in his voice. I remembered how safe I had felt beside him.

What a fool I had been.

My gaze moved toward the altar despite every warning I gave myself.

Nicholas stood beneath an arch of white roses in a black tuxedo and bow tie. The suit had been tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, following the powerful lines of a body he maintained with almost ruthless discipline. His dark hair was swept neatly away from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his jaw and the calm, unreadable expression that had made grown men lower their eyes in his presence.

He was devastatingly handsome.

I hated that my heart still noticed.

There was nothing soft about Nicholas Contini today. He did not look like a groom waiting for the woman he loved. He looked like the Don he was - composed, dominant, and completely in control. His presence alone changed the air in the room. Conversations remained hushed. Guards stood at every entrance, nearly invisible in their black suits, and no guest dared to wander somewhere they had not been invited.

One command from Nicholas could change the course of a life. One displeased glance could empty a room. People did not simply respect him. They feared him.

His eyes moved constantly, measuring the crowd, checking every door, and calculating each detail of the ceremony as though the wedding were another operation he had planned. Nothing escaped his notice.

Nothing except me, apparently.

Beside him stood his younger brother and best man, Leon Contini. Leon was the closest thing the Contini family had to sunlight. He carried the same dark hair and striking features as Renzo, but where Renzo's presence made people stiffen, Leon's easy smile usually encouraged them to breathe again.

Whenever we spoke, Leon found some way to make me laugh, even when I did not want to. Once, after watching him settle an argument between two armed men and then casually steal a pastry from the kitchen, I had asked him how someone like him had ended up in a family like theirs.

He had shrugged and said, "Just my luck to be born into it."

I knew better than to mistake his warmth for innocence. Leon worked beside Nicholas on operations no one discussed in front of me. Beneath the jokes and charm lived a darkness I had never seen clearly - and probably never wanted to.

As if sensing my stare, Leon glanced toward me. For a second, the familiar amusement in his face disappeared. His expression softened with something that looked dangerously close to pity.

I looked away before he could see how much that hurt.

The musicians lifted their instruments, and the first notes of the bridal march floated through the hall. A piano began the melody, soft and graceful, before the strings joined it in a swelling chorus. Every conversation stopped. Chairs shifted as the guests rose.

The tall double doors opened.

Bianca Romano appeared beneath the golden light.

She looked beautiful. There was no point pretending otherwise.

Her white gown, the one she had chosen herself, fitted her figure perfectly before falling into a long, elegant train. I knew every detail of that dress. I had watched her argue with designers, reject fabrics, change the sleeves twice, and demand that an impossible amount of work be completed in less than a month. All morning, makeup artists and hairstylists had moved around her until her skin seemed to glow beneath the chandeliers.

Her blonde hair had been arranged in a flawless bun, and a long veil flowed behind her. She walked with her chin raised and her shoulders straight, carrying the confidence of a woman who knew every person in the room was watching her.

She looked like everything a powerful man was expected to want in a wife - beauty, confidence, elegance, and the right family name.

With every step she took toward Nicholas, something tightened around my heart.

Breathe, I ordered myself.

My lungs refused to listen.

All I had to do was stand still, hold my bouquet, and look happy for my cousin and the man who would soon become my brother-in-law. I fixed a small smile on my face, though it felt as fragile as glass.

Bianca reached the front of the aisle with her father, my uncle Angelo Romano. To most people, Uncle Angelo was simply a successful businessman who owned chains of luxury hotels, bars, and private clubs across the country. He was not as wealthy or feared as Nicholas, but his name opened doors that remained closed to ordinary men.

How a businessman had arranged for his daughter to marry the head of one of the most powerful mafia families was a question I had never been brave enough to ask. Lately, I had begun to suspect that his business reached much further than any of us had been told.

But none of that mattered now.

Uncle Angelo kissed Bianca's cheek and placed her hand into Nicholas's.

There it was.

The end.

My heart broke so quietly that no one else heard it.

The man I loved now held another woman's hand, and I stood only a few feet away, applauding like a fool and pretending I was happy for them.

The priest began the ceremony. From where the guests sat, Nicholas and Bianca must have looked like a match made in heaven - two beautiful people from powerful families, perfectly suited to stand beside one another.

Before the traditional vows came the promises expected of a mafia marriage: loyalty to the family, silence before outsiders, obedience to the laws of their world, and the joining of two houses against every enemy. Nicholas and Bianca agreed to each condition without hesitation.

The words made the marriage sound less like love and more like a contract sealed before God.

Maybe that was all it had ever been.

The priest turned to Nicholas.

"Do you, Nicholas Contini, take Bianca Romano to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Nico's expression did not change. Calm rested across his face as if every second were unfolding exactly as he had ordered it to.

Then, in the cold, commanding voice I knew too well, he said, "I do."

Two small words.

That was all it took to destroy whatever foolish hope remained inside me.

The priest faced Bianca. "Do you, Bianca Romano, take Nicholas Contini to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Her smile brightened. "I do."

A velvet box was opened, revealing the largest diamond ring I had ever seen. It caught the light from the chandeliers and scattered it across the altar. Nico slid it onto Bianca's finger. She placed a dark platinum band on his.

The priest smiled at them. "You may kiss your bride."

My fingers tightened around the bouquet.

Nicholas placed one hand at Bianca's waist and pulled her toward him. Then he kissed her.

The guests erupted in applause.

Bianca looked like his bride. She looked as if she had always been meant to stand beside him.

I clapped because everyone else did. Each movement felt mechanical, belonging to someone outside my body. Around me, people smiled, cheered, and whispered about the perfect couple. I heard glasses being prepared for celebratory champagne in the reception hall beyond the doors.

Then Nicholas lifted his head from Bianca.

Across the altar, through the flowers and the applauding guests, his eyes found mine.

His face remained unreadable, but he did not look away.

Neither did I.

For one terrible second, the room disappeared. There was no bride between us, no priest, no family, and no ring gleaming on his hand. There was only Nico staring at me as though he still had some right to know what I was feeling.

I broke the connection first.

The wedding party moved toward the reception hall, where hundreds of candles glowed above tables dressed in black, ivory, and gold. Music rose again, servers circulated with champagne, and guests crowded around the newlyweds to offer their congratulations.

I set my untouched glass on the nearest table and searched for the quickest way out. I needed a bathroom, a balcony, an empty corridor - anywhere I could breathe without someone watching me fall apart.

Before I could take a second step, my phone vibrated inside the small pocket hidden in my dress. I pulled it out beneath the cover of my bouquet and found one new message.

From Nico.

Nicholas Contini allowed very few people to call him that. To everyone else, he was Nicholas—or Mr. Contini, or the Don. Nico belonged only to the people he trusted, the ones permitted close enough to see the man beneath all that power.

Once, I had believed that privilege meant I was someone special to him.

Now, after watching him marry my cousin, I wasn’t sure what I was. His former lover? His greatest mistake? Or merely a secret he expected to keep?

My eyes dropped to his message.

West corridor. Five minutes. Do not make me come for you.

It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order.

My heart—which I had been certain he had already destroyed—began to pound.