Chapter 3: The Untouchable

“Hello, wife.”

The word hit the silent cathedral like a gunshot.

Sarah’s face went completely pale. Her defiant eyes widened, darting from my face to the terrified crowd, then back to me.

“You,” she breathed.

“Me,” I said.

Richard Vance stumbled forward, his face slick with sweat. “Godfather, please. This is a misunderstanding. Sarah is confused. She didn't know what she was doing.”

“She knew exactly what she was doing when she shoved the contract in my face,” I said, my voice flat. I didn't look at him. My eyes were locked on the woman trying to pull her wrist out of my grip.

“You tricked me,” she hissed. “You knew who I was the whole time.”

“I did.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Watch your mouth, Sarah,” Richard snapped, his voice shaking with panic.

I finally turned my glare to Richard. The man who started this entire mess.

“The debt is paid,” I said, my voice low enough that only the three of us could hear. “She’s mine now. If I see your face near my estate, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

Richard staggered back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

I didn't wait for another word. I turned and dragged Sarah down the aisle. She fought me, her heels scraping against the marble, but I didn't stop. The throbbing behind my eyes was getting worse. The medication was wearing off, and the crowded room was suffocating me.

The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind us. The cold morning air hit my face, but it did nothing to stop the violent tremor starting in my hands.

“Let go of me!” Sarah yelled, trying to yank her arm free.

I didn't. I pulled her straight to the black SUV, yanked the door open, and shoved her into the backseat. I climbed in right after her, slamming the door shut.

“Drive,” I barked at Marcus.

The SUV peeled away from the curb.

Sarah scrambled to the far side of the seat, pressing her back against the door. “You are insane. I am not your wife. I’m going to the police.”

I leaned my head back, closing my eyes. The pain was blinding now. A sharp, stabbing ice pick right through my skull. My hands were trembling so violently I had to grip my knees to keep them still.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave.

“Come here,” I ordered.

“No.”

“Sarah. Come here.”

“I’m not coming anywhere near you!”

I opened my eyes and looked at her. I didn't bother hiding the agony twisting my face. “I need you to touch me.”

She looked at me like I had just spoken in tongues. “Excuse me?”

“I’m allergic to women,” I said, the words tasting like acid. “The touch of any woman makes my skin crawl and my head feel like it’s going to split open. My body violently rejects them. You are the only exception. When you grabbed my wrist in that club, the pain stopped for the first time in ten years.”

She stared at me, her mouth parted. “You’re lying.”

I reached out, my hand shaking, and grabbed her wrist. I pulled her hand toward my face and pressed her palm flat against my cheek.

The relief was instant. The stabbing pain vanished, replaced by a cool, quiet darkness. I let out a heavy, ragged breath, closing my eyes as I leaned into her touch.

Sarah didn't pull away. She was frozen, staring at me.

“If you leave,” I murmured against her skin, “the pain comes back. And I will burn this city down to find you.”

She slowly pulled her hand back. She didn't fight me, but her eyes were filled with a mixture of horror and pity.

The SUV pulled through the iron gates of the Vitale estate. The mansion loomed ahead, a fortress of glass and stone.

Marcus opened the door. I climbed out, my hand wrapped tight around Sarah’s. I wasn't letting go.

I dragged her up the stone steps and pushed the heavy doors open.

Standing in the center of the marble foyer, dressed in a tight black dress with a plastic smile, was Victoria Hale.

“Enzo,” Victoria cooed, stepping forward. Her eyes landed on Sarah’s hand in mine, and her smile flickered. “I was so worried. I heard you left the wedding. Who is this?”

“My wife,” I said coldly.

Victoria’s face went white. “Your... what? Enzo, the wedding to the Vance girl was supposed to be a sham. A business arrangement. You said you would never marry.”

“Change of plans.”

Victoria’s eyes filled with venom. She looked at Sarah. “You trapped him. You’re a manipulative little witch, aren't you?”

“I didn't trap him,” Sarah snapped back, yanking her hand out of my grip. “Believe me, I want to be here just as much as you want me gone.”

The moment her skin left mine, the pain hit me like a freight train. I stumbled, grabbing the banister as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

Victoria reached out to steady me. “Enzo, what’s wrong? Do you need your medication?”

“Don't touch me!” I snarled, flinching away from her.

Victoria froze, her hand suspended in the air.

I grabbed Sarah’s hand again, pulling her back against my side. The pain subsided.

Victoria watched the exchange, her eyes narrowing with sudden, terrifying understanding. She knew my secret.

“Marcus,” I said, my voice tight. “Take Victoria to the guest wing. She’s staying here for a while.”

“What? Enzo, why?” Victoria protested.

Before I could answer, Sarah gasped.

“What is that?” she whispered, pointing toward the hallway that led to my office.

I followed her gaze. The marble floor was pristine, except for one thing. A single, bright red drop of blood.

My blood ran cold. My security team swept the house an hour ago.

I looked at Marcus. The same realization dawned in his eyes.

I pulled Sarah closer, my hand wrapping around her waist.

“Lock the doors,” I ordered, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Nobody leaves.”