Chapter 4

THE VOWS & THE BOOM

~GISELLE POV~

The sunlight outside the cathedral was violent.

After the dark, heavy sadness of the monastery, the bright midday sun felt like a harsh light, revealing everything.

The sudden brightness made my eyes water, or maybe that was just the delayed reaction to selling my soul five minutes ago.

I gripped Alessandro’s arm. I had to. If I let go, I was pretty sure my legs would buckle under the weight of the silk, the lace, and the crushing realization that I was now ‘Giselle Romano.’

"Walk," Alessandro commanded under his breath.

He didn't look at me. He was looking around carefully, his eyes moving quickly like a hunter ready for a fight."Chin up. Don't look like a victim. It insults me."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my chin high. "I'm not a victim," I hissed back, leaning into him not for comfort, but for balance. "I'm a survivor. There's a difference."

His grip on my arm tightened, just a bit. "We will see."

We came down the stone steps of St. Patrick’s. The plaza below was cleared of civilians, blocked off by a wall of black-suited security.

Beyond the barricades, paparazzi…or perhaps police surveillance disguised as press…snapped photos. The shutters made a sound like many small knives falling at the same time.

Ahead of us, my parents were taking their victory lap.

Julio was practically strutting. He waved to the few approved guests staying near the cars, his chest puffed out. He looked lighter, younger.

The fifty million dollars he had traded me for was practically glowing on his skin.

Isabella walked beside him, her face a disguise of cold victory. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look at me one last time.

She didn't smile. She just nodded,a quick, dismissive jerk of her chin. ‘Good riddance,’ that nod said. ‘The transaction is complete.’

"Your car is the armored SUV," Alessandro said, guiding me toward a black beast of a vehicle idling at the curb. "Get in. Don't wait for the door to be held."

"Where are my parents going?" I asked, watching as a valet brought around Julio’s vintage silver Rolls-Royce…his pride and joy.

"To the reception," Alessandro said flatly. "Separately. We ride alone."

I felt a shiver of unease. "Why?"

"Protocol."

It was a non-answer. I watched Julio open the back door of the Rolls Royce for Isabella. For a brief second, my father looked back at me.

His expression faltered. Was that regret? Or just the calculation of a man wondering if he could have gotten sixty million instead of fifty?

He offered me a small, hesitant wave.

I didn't wave back. I couldn't.

Julio ducked into the car. The heavy door thudded shut.

The world seemed to pause. The birds stopped singing. The wind died down. The chatter of the crowd faded into a dull buzz.

Alessandro stopped walking. His hand, which had been gripping my elbow, suddenly slid up to the back of my neck. He wasn't caressing me. He was positioning me. He pulled me roughly against his chest, turning my back toward the street, burying my face into the lapel of his tuxedo.

"Alessandro?" I muffled against the wool fabric. "What are you…”

BOOM.

The sound wasn't a noise. It was a hit.

It hit me like a sledgehammer to the spine. The air was sucked out of the plaza in a split second, replaced instantly by a wave of heat so intense it felt like the sun had crashed into the ground.

My ears popped. A high-pitched ringing screamed through my skull, drowning out my own cry.

The force of the blast threw us forward. If Alessandro hadn't been holding me, anchoring me with his massive weight, I would have been tossed down the concrete steps like a rag doll.

Junk rained down… bits of metal, glass, and burning rubber clattered against the stone pillars of the church. A thick, oily cloud of black smoke billowed up, blocking out the sun.

"Stay down!" Alessandro roared, his voice sounding distant, like he was speaking from underwater.

I didn't stay down. I couldn't.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the shock. I pushed against his chest, scrambling to turn around. My veil was torn, caught on his button, but I ripped it free.

"No... no, no, no…” I turned.

The silver Rolls Royce was gone.

Instead, there was a bent, blackened metal frame, surrounded by a loud fire. The flames shot up twenty feet high, bright orange, reaching for the dark surface of the cathedral.

"Papa!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and bloody. "Isabella!"

I lunged forward. I had to get to them. I had to pull them out. I didn't love them…God, I didn't think I even liked them…but they were the only family I had. They were the only life I knew.

A steel band clamped around my waist.

"Let me go!" I shrieked, clawing at Alessandro’s arm. My nails dug into his expensive suit, scraping against the hard muscle beneath. "They’re in there! We have to help them!"

Alessandro didn't budge. He held me easily, his arm immovable as iron. He wasn't looking at the fire. He wasn't looking at the screaming guests who were scrambling for cover.

He wasn't looking at the guards rushing toward the burning wreckage with fire extinguishers that looked pitifully small against the inferno.

He was looking at me.

His face was terrifyingly calm. There was no shock. No fear. No surprise. His hair was barely ruffled. His white collar was completely clean.

"Stop fighting, Giselle," He said in a flat voice."It’s done."

"Done?" I gasped, choking on the acrid smoke. "They’re burning! Help them! Why aren't you helping them?"

"There is nothing to help," he said coldly. "The fuel tank ruptured. The blast wave liquified the interior. They were dead before they heard the noise."

How did he know? How could he be so sure?

I stopped struggling, my body going limp with horror. The heat from the fire was blistering my skin, but inside, I felt ice cold.

I looked up at him. I really looked at him.

Chaos had erupted around us. Sirens were wailing in the distance. People were sobbing, bleeding, running.

But Alessandro stood like a statue in the center of hell.

He wasn't watching the fire anymore.

He raised his left arm. He pulled back the cuff of his shirt.

And he checked his watch.

He stared at the dial for a second, then gave a single, almost unnoticeable nod. As if a train he had been waiting for had arrived exactly on schedule.

The realization hit me harder than the explosion.

He knew.

The warning about the separate cars. The way he turned me away right before the blast. The way he held me back now, not out of protection, but out of control.

He hadn't been shielding me from a surprise attack. He had been shielding his property from a controlled ruin.

"You..." I whispered, the word tasting like ash.

I looked from his watch to the burning coffin that held my parents.

"You knew."

Alessandro dropped his arm. He looked down at me, his blue eyes unreadable, empty of any humanity. He didn't deny it. He didn't defend himself.

He just reached out and brushed a flake of ash from my cheek.

"Get in the car, Giselle," he ordered, gesturing to his armored SUV that sat untouched, parked safely out of the blast radius.

"You killed them," I sobbed, stepping back, away from him, toward the fire. "You murderer! You killed them!"

He grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn't gentle this time. It was bruising. He yanked me close, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning colder than the flames behind us.

"I am your husband," he snarled, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "And right now, I am the only thing standing between you and a bullet. So you will get in the goddamn car, and you will cry quietly."

He dragged me toward the SUV. I stumbled, my heels scraping against the asphalt, my eyes fixed on the burning wreckage of my past.

I had walked into the church as a daughter sold for a debt. I was leaving it as an orphan married to the executioner.

As the heavy door of the SUV slammed shut, sealing us in silence, I looked at Alessandro one last time.

He was adjusting his cufflinks.