The Don's Captive

A bishop from a distant parish stood reciting his blessings over the grand wedding.

I let out a cold laugh.

Everyone turned to look, including Don Fiorenzo Ricci, the head of the mafia family.

The broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted man stood beneath the mistletoe in the church, preparing to kiss his bride.

I walked slowly toward Fiorenzo and used scissors to cut open my pure white custom gown.

"Clarissa, enough." His voice was low, but I knew he was angry.

"Not enough, Fiorenzo." I cut through the last strip of fabric as I spoke.

When my body, covered in kiss marks, was exposed before everyone's eyes, chaos erupted in the room.

"What is she doing?" The bride looked at Fiorenzo in horror.

"Take Signorina Diamante away." His tone was calm but carried an oppressive weight.

"Fiorenzo, these are the marks you left on me last night!" I struggled free from his men's grip.

Fiorenzo's expression remained calm. "You should call me Papa."

"But you're only nine years older than me," I shot back.

"Regardless, I am your guardian. That will never change.

"Today is my wedding, Clarissa. You should be offering blessings, not standing here embarrassing me like this.

"But I don't blame you, because you will always be my Principessa."

Then he gestured for his men to bring a sedative. He injected it into me himself. I lost consciousness immediately.

This small disturbance was smoothed over by Fiorenzo's composed jokes.

When I woke, I was back in my room, changed into a fresh white nightgown. Fiorenzo had chosen it. He loved seeing me in white. He said it was pure and sacred.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see Fiorenzo dancing with his new bride at the center of the crowd.

The bride's name was Gianna Moretti. She was the daughter of one of the family's elders.

Gianna's father had taken a bullet for Fiorenzo and died. Fiorenzo said he owed the elder a debt, so he married her. The family members all praised their new Don for his loyalty and righteousness.

Only I stood on the top floor of the manor, swinging an axe and destroying the piano he had given me.

The night before the wedding, Gianna came to Fiorenzo with a sweet smile. "I want to throw my bouquet to Clarissa."

I looked at Fiorenzo without showing any emotion, listening as he answered, "Alright."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means you will be the next bride."

I stared into his green eyes, enunciating each word. "Whose bride?"

"Clarissa, you deserve the finest person in the world. I will help you find him."

In that moment, I felt like a clown.

"Fiorenzo, I need to go rest." I made an excuse to leave.

Then I heard Fiorenzo say, "You should call me Papa. After Gianna and I are married, I expect you to remember how to address me every single time."

I left in silence, planning to deliver his wedding gift later.

That night, I put on a red nightgown and pushed open Fiorenzo's bedroom door, pressing myself against his body like a snake. His breathing remained steady.

Disappointed, I was about to climb out of bed when a pair of burning, powerful hands locked around my thighs.

My heart raced as I looked up and met his deep gaze.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low and husky.

"Congratulations on your wedding." My fingertips traced circles on his Adam's apple.

"Do you know what you are doing?" His voice began to take on a tone both foreign and familiar.

He had never spoken to me this way before, but I knew this was the voice he used to flirt with his mistresses.

"You once said I would be your most beautiful bride." I whispered near his ear.

"That was just a joke, Clarissa."

Fiorenzo's tone was helpless, as if I truly were a troublesome little daughter causing her Papa grief.

"From the day I brought you home, I announced to everyone that you're my adopted daughter." He looked at me tenderly.

"Now you have grown up. You are my most perfect creation. I will not allow anyone to defile you, not even myself."

My heart was already riddled with holes from his words, but I stubbornly pressed on.

"Fiorenzo, you are the Don of a mafia family. Your hands are stained with blood. You are not that sacred.

"But even if you were God, tonight I would drag you down into sin with me."

"This is the last time I will indulge you." He sighed.

Then his hand moved with practiced ease, slipping between my legs, fingers moving in rhythm inside me.

"Clarissa, call me Papa."

"Papa." I was lost in desire.

I did not know how much time had passed when a knock came at the door.

"Darling, are you asleep?" Gianna's voice came from behind the door.