I HATE seeing you cry

The wedding dress was suffocating. White. Layers of tulle. Tiny crystals that caught the light and made me look like a princess.

I felt like a prisoner.

"Olivia, stand still." My mother's voice was sharp. "The veil isn't straight."

I didn't move. I couldn't. Every muscle in my body was frozen. Every instinct was screaming at me to run.

Run. Run. Run.

"Olivia." Beatrice stepped in front of me, inspecting me like I was a doll she was about to discard. Her eyes were cold. Calculating. "You look... acceptable, I suppose."

I stared at her. "Acceptable?"

"Don't get excited." She smoothed a strand of my hair, her touch sharp and condescending. "You're not beautiful. You never have been. But the dress helps. It distracts from your... inadequacies."

My blood boiled. "You're enjoying this."

"I'm enjoying watching you finally be useful." Beatrice smiled, and it was sharp as glass. "For once in your miserable life, you're doing something for this family. You should be grateful."

"Grateful." I laughed bitterly. "You want me to be grateful that I'm being sold to a monster?"

"Monster." Beatrice laughed. "Diego De Luca is a powerful man. A dangerous man. A man who could destroy our family with a single word." She paused, tilting her head. "Which is exactly why he deserves someone like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're disposable." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You've always been disposable, Olivia. The difficult daughter. The disappointment. The one who couldn't follow a single rule. Mother and Father have been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of you. And now they have one."

I felt like I'd been slapped.

Beatrice stepped back, her smile widening. "You should be thanking me, really. If I'd agreed to marry him, you'd still be stuck here, being useless. Now you get to be useful. You get to save the family. And you get to leave." She shrugged. "It's the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"No." She laughed. "I'm the daughter who's smart enough to survive. The daughter who follows the rules. The daughter who doesn't embarrass her family." Her eyes narrowed. "The daughter who's worth something."

I couldn't breathe. The truth hit me like a physical blow.

They'd always hated me. Always seen me as a burden. A mistake. Something to be tolerated until they could find a way to get rid of me.

And now they had.

I looked at my mother. She was standing by the window, looking at her watch. Impatient. Annoyed.

She didn't care. She'd never cared.

"Olivia." Beatrice's voice was sweet, mocking. "Don't cry. You'll ruin your makeup. And we can't have you looking ugly at your own wedding, can we? Although..." She laughed. "I suppose it wouldn't matter. Diego De Luca is just marrying you for the alliance. He doesn't care what you look like."

Something inside me snapped. "No."

Beatrice blinked. "What?"

"I said no." I pushed past her. "I'm not doing this. I'm not marrying him. I'm not saving this family. I'm not being your sacrifice."

Beatrice's eyes widened. "Olivia, don't be ridiculous. You can't—"

"Watch me."

I grabbed the skirt of my wedding dress and ran.

I burst through the doors of the church. The sunlight hit my face. The sounds of the city rushed toward me.

I didn't stop. I ran down the steps. Past the confused guests. Past the photographers. Past everyone who'd come to watch me be sacrificed.

I heard Beatrice scream my name. Heard my mother shriek. Heard my father's angry roar.

I didn't look back.

I reached the street. Cars were stopped at a traffic light. I didn't think. I just acted.

I yanked open the door of the first car I saw and threw myself inside.

"Drive!" I screamed. "Please, just drive!"

The driver, an older man in a uniform stared at me in shock. "Signorina, what—"

"Please! They're coming for me! Just drive!"

He looked in the rearview mirror. I saw confusion on his face. But he must have seen the panic in my eyes, because he pressed the gas.

The car lurched forward.

I collapsed against the back seat, my heart pounding. My breath came in ragged gasps. My hands were shaking.

I'd done it. I'd actually done it.

I'd escaped.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I was still wearing the wedding dress. Still wearing the veil. Still wearing the diamonds my mother had forced on me.

But I was free. But then someone yawned beside me. My eyes snapped open. I turned my head slowly. Terrified of what I'd see.

And there he was.

A man. Sleeping. In the seat beside me.

His head was tilted back. His eyes were closed.

He looked... peaceful.

He looked... Wait what?

My blood ran cold. I recognized him.

The sharp jaw. The dark hair. The impossible beauty of his face.He was wearing a simple white polo shirt and dark trousers. Casual. Comfortable. Nothing like the man who should have been heading to his wedding.

It was him. The man from the cafe. The man who'd caught me when I fell.

The man I was supposed to marry.

Diego De Luca.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no."

He stirred. His eyes fluttered open.

And then he saw me.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked confused. Then something flickered in his gaze. Recognition. Amusement.

"Well, well," he murmured, his voice low and sleepy. "What do we have here?"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe.

He sat up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. His polo shirt pulled tight across his chest. His muscles rippled beneath the fabric.

I looked away. My cheeks burned.

"Let me guess," he continued, his voice still thick with sleep as he looked at what I was putting on. "You're running from your wedding."

I didn't answer. He leaned in closer. His eyes—those dark, beautiful eyes studied my face.

"Interesting," he murmured. "I thought I was the only one running today."

I blinked. "What?"

He smiled. It was small. Amused. "I received a message late last night. Something about my bride's photo." He paused. "I thought my family wanted Beatrice."

"Beatrice," I repeated numbly.

"Yes. The snobbish one. The perfect one. The one everyone expected me to marry." He tilted his head. "But apparently, they switched the bride at the last minute. I'm supposed to marry her sister. The one the world barely knows."

My heart stopped.

"You," I whispered. "You're Diego."

He grinned. It was devastating. "And you're my runaway bride."

I shook my head. "I'm not marrying you. I'm not marrying anyone. I'm running away. I'm—"

"You're in my car," he interrupted. "In a wedding dress. On our wedding day." He leaned in closer. "Didn't know I met my future wife at the cafe. I could have abducted you if I knew earlier, gattina."

I shivered at the nickname. Gattina. Little cat.

His voice was a whisper. His breath was warm against my ear.

"Tell me," he said, pulling back slightly. "Why are you fleeing in a wedding dress on your wedding day?"

I stared at him.

Wasn't it obvious?

"I can't marry a stranger," I said. "I can't marry someone I don't know. I can't marry..." I paused. "You're a..."

"Monster," he completed.

I flinched.

"Yes. That. Everyone says you're a monster. That you killed your uncle. That you bury people alive. That you—"

He laughed.

It was a real laugh. Deep and warm. Like he found the whole situation absurd.

I stared at him, stunned.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes were wide with shock.

Diego was laughing. The man who, according to rumors, never smiled. Never joked. Never showed emotion.

He was laughing..And it was beautiful.

His smile was bright. His eyes crinkled at the corners. His whole face transformed from cold and dangerous to... something else.

Something... soft. My heart fluttered.

Wait. Why am I admiring him? He's a monster. He's supposed to be terrifying.

He was looking at me. His laughter had faded, but the smile remained. His eyes were warm. Playful.

"You're adorable," he said.

"What?"

"You're sitting there, in a wedding dress, covered in tears, telling me I'm a monster. And yet you haven't tried to jump out of the car."

I opened my mouth. No words came out.

"Tell me," he continued. "If I'm such a monster, why are you still here?"

I didn't have an answer. Because I didn't know.

He was supposed to be terrifying. He was supposed to be cold and cruel and dangerous.

But all I felt was... safe.

His hand came up to my face. I flinched, expecting him to grab me. To hurt me.

Instead, his thumb brushed away a tear from my cheek.

"You've been crying," he observed. "A lot."

I didn't answer.

"I hate seeing you cry," he said softly. "Even if you were crying because you were running from me."