A Good Wife.

"Get that Liam here," Vincenzo ordered coldly.

His guards responded instantly. Within a minute, Liam was dragged in by force, struggling, confused, until he saw her.

Seraphina stood in the center of the grand hall, draped in her wedding dress, her face void of life, her eyes swollen from hours of crying. Liam’s heart shattered.

Vincenzo stepped forward, the sharp click of his shoes echoing on the marble floor. He gave a small, crooked smile, his dark eyes filled with amusement and cruelty. "Liam, look at me. Look closely. I married your sister. She’s mine now. Ha! Ha!! My wife."

He tilted his head mockingly, his gaze sweeping over Seraphina. "Yes… such a good wife, isn’t she?"

Liam froze. His throat tightened. Then, he collapsed to his knees, chest heaving, tears spilling. He clenched his fists. "I’m sorry, Seraphina. I’m… I’m so sorry. I failed you. I’m the bad brother. I ruined your life. I couldn’t protect you from him. I couldn’t stop this."

Seraphina didn’t respond. She only lowered her gaze, hiding behind the heavy veil of grief and silence.

Vincenzo laughed. A slow, deep, maddening laugh. "Oh, Liam. It’s nothing. Don’t blame yourself too hard. She ruined herself the moment she started lying. She betrayed me. And she deserved this. Every piece of it."

He waved a hand, signaling his guards to back away.

"Now stop sobbing like a broken man…. Come on; bless your sister to have hell in her married life."

Liam stood slowly. His eyes were filled with rage and heartbreak. "One day, Vincenzo, you’ll regret this. You’ll regret everything you’ve done. I stood by you all these years. Because I believed one thing…..you never hurt the innocent. But tonight? Tonight, you destroyed that belief. You broke her. She didn’t deserve this. She never did. And for that... I hate you."

Seraphina stood still, silently crying. Her heart was bleeding, and her body trembled from the truth that she could no longer fight. Vincenzo glanced at her, feeling a slight prickle of guilt...but it vanished just as quickly. His hate, his anger, his obsession was stronger.

She cried more, remembering Jarvis. She loved him. She always had. But now she was married…forced to a mafia don. She always wanted to add Jarvis' name to her last name. But today, she has become Seraphina Vincenzo De Luca… forcibly.

Would she ever accept him as her husband? No, no girl would accept a man who forced her into marriage, harassed her, and abused her.

That night, she sat in the corner of her room, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The candles flickered low. The air was heavy. Her bridal gown clung to her skin like chains.

The door creaked open.

"What are you doing here in the darkness, my baby?" His voice was a venomous purr.

Vincenzo stepped in, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of hunger and obsession. His mouth curled into a half-smile, wicked and cold.

She flinched. Her breath caught in her throat as she pressed herself back against the wall.

"Don’t be afraid," he said, approaching slowly. "It’s our wedding night, Seraphina. A night I’ve dreamed about. You look breathtaking, but I want to see what’s underneath that gown."

He crouched in front of her, lifting her chin with a single finger. His voice dropped into a low whisper. "You don’t need to wear clothes in front of me ever again, I want to see your skin, all of it. "I want to explore every inch of your beautiful body, touch you here…." he brushed the side of her breast with the back of his finger, his eyes fixed on her chest "….and kisses you everywhere it aches."

Her body jolted slightly at the touch. She hated herself for it. A rush of heat shot through her, despite the revulsion twisting her gut.

"I want to hold your breasts in my hands, bite the tip of your nipples until they harden under my tongue. "I want to hear the sound you make when I slide my hands between your thighs, feel how warm you get for me."

She turned her face away, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"You don’t even know how much I’ve fantasized about breaking you in the most delicious ways," he growled near her ear. "Making you mine until there’s nothing left of you but the moans you’ll whisper in my name. I’ll make you forget your past, Seraphina. You’ll only remember how I made you feel."

Her skin prickled. Her body betrayed her with every subtle shiver under his voice and his touch. She hated it.

Without warning, he scooped her into his arms. She whimpered, burying her face in his chest as he carried her into the adjoining room.

The bed was extravagant; drenched in red petals, satin sheets pulled back invitingly. A bottle of wine and two glasses stood untouched on the table beside it. The scent of lavender filled the room.

"You have three minutes," he said, placing her down. "Change into the dress I picked. Then wait for me, on my bed."

She didn’t move.

"Will you change," he said sharply, "or shall I tear the gown off myself?"

Terrified, she ran into the bathroom. Her hands trembled as she removed the gown, piece by piece, and slipped into the nightwear laid out for her, a deep red silk nightwear with thin straps, plunging neckline, and sheer lace hugging every curve. It exposed the upper swells of her breasts, her thighs bare and vulnerable.

She stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself.

She hated what she saw.

She hated how beautiful the dress made her look. How the curves of her body still stirred something.

When she stepped out, the room was empty. Vincenzo wasn’t there.

She rushed to the bed, climbed in, and wrapped herself in the sheet, hiding the seductive dress as best as she could.

Moments later, the door flung open.

Vincenzo entered….drunk.

He reeked of whiskey. His shirt was half open, revealing his chest. His eyes were wild with lust.

He froze when he saw her.

His eyes scanned from her bare legs, to her covered chest, to the red straps slipping off her shoulders.

He stepped forward like a predator.

Vincenzo walked in like thunder. He was slightly drunk, but still graceful, still dangerous. His eyes locked onto her immediately. His eyes moved from her exposed legs, up the soft shimmer of the red silk, to her cleavage barely concealed by the lacy straps.

His jaw tightened.

His pupils darkened.

His tongue slowly ran across his bottom lip. "Dio mio…"

He stepped forward, like a man possessed. "You look like temptation, Seraphina. No. You are tempting, you’re a vision I want to ruin with every stroke of my hands, every thrust of my hips."

She shuddered, her breath shaky.

He climbed onto the bed, slowly.

"You make me crazy, do you know that? Just one look at you, and I feel like a starving animal. I want to pull this sheet off and taste you everywhere. I want to push my tongue between your legs and feel your thighs tighten around my head."

She sobbed, crawling back.

He grabbed her ankle, pulling her back to him.

“Don’t run. Don’t cry,” he said, stroking her thigh slowly. “Let me see you. I want to hold your breasts, suck them, feel them bounce in my mouth. I want to lay you down, spread your legs and taste you until you cry for me. Until you forget everything but my name. I’ll touch you gently. Then rough. Then slow again. I’ll make your body love me, even if your heart doesn’t.”

She shivered again.

He smirked. “You feel it, don’t you? Your body’s already reacting. I want to see your eyes when I take you. When I make you mine.”

She covered her face in tears. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want this. Please leave me.”

He leaned forward, whispered darkly in her ear: “I want to gift you something to have you.”