THE LIES THAT BIND

Anastasya's POV. 

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, from the elaborate updo my hair was styled in, to the white lace dress I was currently wearing. A bride was usually happy on her wedding day, but I was unable to conjure up any feelings of joy or elation whatsoever. It was hard to feel any happiness when one was being forced to marry against their will, like I was. Even worse, being married to a man I had never met, one who's ruthlessness preceded him, the don of the Italian cosa nostra in New York City. But this marriage was necessary to secure an alliance between my family and the Italian mafia. As the daughter of the Pakhan of the Russian bratva, I always knew I would end up in an arranged marriage. 

I just never expected it to be a monster.

I took a deep breath, right before I was distracted by a loud knock on the door. 

“It's time, Stasya. Let's go.” My father's gruff voice called out from the other side of the door. 

I picked up the bouquet of white flowers resting on the vanity, sneering at the charade of a real wedding my father was trying to pull. 

We all knew that it was anything but. 

I left my room, taking in the cold, lifeless decor of my family mansion as I walked outside to where a car was idling. It was more a house than a home, a show of power more than anything, but it was where I grew up. 

Now only the heavens knew when I was going to see it again. 

I slid into the backseat of the armored SUV, finding my father already there. We rode in an uncomfortable silence until we reached the chapel, the only sound between us was the hum of the car's engine as we approached closer and closer. 

“You'll be a good wife to don Massimo, you understand?” He instructed as we reached the chapel. 

“Yes, papa.” I kept my head down, forcing a reply out of my throat. 

I walked into the chapel on the arm of my father, who insisted on giving me away like this was a real marriage, not just a means to strengthen his empire. The entire ceremony felt like a joke to me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. I looked straight ahead as we walked down the aisle, past the pews in which my mother, my sister, Katarina, and a few of my father's men sat, alongside a few other people I didn't recognise, whom I concluded were members of the cosa nostra. 

And standing there straight ahead, next to the priest, was my future husband, with another man standing next to him. 

He was younger than I expected, and definitely looked a lot more handsome that the online articles let on. He had a face that looked like it was carved by angels, although it was currently set in a scowl. His black suit fit the contours of his body perfectly, and I noticed the slight bulge of his muscles beneath the dark material. 

His intense gaze never left me as I moved closer to him, and it only seemed to deepen as we reached the pulpit and my father placed my hand in his. Just before he turned away to look at the minister, I caught something very similar to displeasure flash across his eyes. 

Glad to know the feeling was mutual. 

“You know, I don't like you either,” I whispered, trying to get a reaction out of him, but his mouth only pulled into a small smirk as he replied, “Likewise, princess.”

I didn't reply him after that, because the minister cleared his throat and began the ceremony. We listened to the sermon and recited our vows, and as I looked into his deep brown eyes and said words I know that I didn't mean, I felt the pit of despair in me grow a bit deeper with every passing second. And as the cool metal of the ring slid onto my finger, I knew that I had sealed away any future chances of my happiness. And judging from the dark look on my newly wedded husband's face, I could tell that his thoughts mirrored my own. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” the minister announced, sealing my fate. To my relief, there was no call to kiss the bride, because I wasn't sure I could handle kissing a man I despised so much. 

We went straight to the signing of the marriage certificates, which was what would finalise the alliance between our two families. I scribbled my new name onto the dotted lines, setting the alliance in stone. 

“There's no escaping now, printsessa, you're stuck with me,” Massimo said from beside me once he was done signing. 

“You should be scared, because you're stuck with me.” I shot back, refusing to be cowed by his domineering presence, before leaving him at the table. 

And just like that, I had signed my life and my happiness away. 

We were to spend the night at one of my father's hotels before leaving for New York in the morning, and the thought of sharing a bed with that monster terrified me. 

What if he wanted to consummate the marriage? 

Sex wasn't an issue for me, but if my new husband thought I was going to give my body to him freely, he was sorely mistaken. 

I had just taken a bath in the huge bathroom in our hotel suite, and I was drying myself off with a towel when Massimo walked into the room. He was still wearing his suit from earlier, although he had lost the tie and undid the first few buttons of his dress shirt to reveal a bit of his muscular chest. 

“Well well well, little wife. What have we here?” He drawled, his gait slightly unsteady as he walked towards me. 

Was he…drunk?

I wrapped my towel tighter across my chest, standing my ground and trying my hardest not to show just how much his presence affected me. 

He didn't stop until only a few millimeters separated our bodies, the air around us saturated with the scent of the bourbon he had been drinking, and the musky, spicy scent that was undoubtedly his. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a spoiled brat like you?” He slurred, his intoxicated tone however not taking the bite out of his words. 

“You're the one that married me,” I snapped, refusing to be cowed by his drunk but still intimidating presence. 

I tried to sidestep him, but he braced his hands on either side of the wall around my head, effectively caging me in. 

He leaned his face into my neck, inhaling deeply as he drank in my fragrance. 

“Aren't you going to satisfy your husband?” He said into my neck, kissing it softly. 

I froze for a moment due to shock, then anger, but recovered quickly enough. 

Right before my palm collided with his face in a brutal slap. 

He raised a palm to cradle his cheek, some clarity returning to his eyes as he glared at me. 

My heart was pounding with fear, but I kept the tremble out of my voice as I said, 

“This marriage is nothing but a farce. The sooner you know that, the better.”

“I despise you, printsessa.” He leaned into my ear and whispered. 

“And I despise you even more.”