2. Handsome Stranger

I recollected the events of that day prior to the intrusion of the stranger into my residence. I was en route to the church for my wedding ceremony.

"You look absolutely stunning, though that scowl on your face is quite intense," Dana remarked.

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror, feeling a strong dislike for the dress, the meticulously styled hair, and the imminent marriage that awaited me in less than an hour.

"I feel utterly miserable. This is exactly what my father has always envisioned for his little princess," I grumbled.

Dana rolled her eyes, walked over to the small vanity, and took hold of my champagne glass. "I think you need this. Maybe I should order another bottle."

I wrestled the crystal stem from her grip, tilted it back, and nearly drained the glass. "You mean because I'm being coerced into an arranged marriage?" I replied with a touch of sarcasm.

Dana remained oblivious to the world my family was entrenched in. She was my American friend, unaware of the stakes involved in my impending marriage here in Italy.

"Hey, at least the guy is wealthy. He owns properties all over the world, numerous cars, and that honeymoon in Fiji," she pointed out.

"Uh-huh."

Entering into a marriage with the arrogant and unattractive Ernesto Satori meant sacrificing my freedom. I was well aware of the rumors surrounding this reprehensible man, stories of his insatiable appetite for unconventional desires.

The whirlwind two-week "romance" had been meticulously orchestrated, and the sudden demand for marriage left me feeling trapped. While he had refrained from any physical advances thus far, tonight marked a significant shift, and the mere thought of it made me nauseous.

Ernesto believed he would exert control over me, ready to punish me like a disobedient child if I dared to defy his commands. I was determined; no man had ever attempted to discipline me, and if he dared to try, I would not hesitate to break free from his grasp.

In Italy, I held a royal status, and my family commanded great respect. I closed my eyes, envisioning a charming prince arriving at our wedding in a horse-drawn carriage, eager to sweep me off my feet and pledge his love and protection—not to subjugate me.

As I passed by the mirror, I winced at the rustling sound of the satin and voluminous layers of netting. I despised the gown, I detested the man, and I loathed my life.

Indeed, I had been raised in a sheltered environment, naively accepting every word my father uttered. However, this situation was far from anything I could have imagined. I could still recall my father's adoring words, calling me a princess—a magnificent masterpiece. The entire nation of Italy had echoed those sentiments.

I poured a generous amount of liquid, allowing it to overflow the rim as I chuckled at the bubbles cascading down the sides of the glass. The idea of remaining celibate seemed more appealing than sharing a bed with a detestable man. It was true that, on paper, I would become a wealthy woman once the marriage was formalized and my trust fund was released. But I had no illusions about having any control over my own finances.

I had been left with no choice. Adding insult to injury, Ernesto had painstakingly laid out the rules, every single one of them, including the demand for unwavering obedience. Controlling and domineering individuals were the type I despised the most.

Yes, I was prepared to comply in order to bring happiness to my father and uphold the family's honor. I understood the significance of merging the families' assets and expanding our collective businesses.

However, I wasn't naive enough to believe that was the whole story. There was something peculiar in my father's eyes when he urged me to go through with this marriage. I realized that power, greed, and blackmail were likely underlying motivations.

I needed to validate my suspicions, but what if I succeeded? What options would I have?

"We should be heading to the church soon," Dana whispered. When I didn't respond, she let out a nervous laugh. "Or maybe I could arrange for someone to whisk you away to a secluded, picturesque island. A handsome and fit man, perhaps. You could live happily ever after, raising a family."

I offered her a wistful smile. "That sounds perfectly disastrous."

"Darn it, I need to fetch your veil. The limo will be here in ten minutes. Bottoms up, Maddy." Dana winked before leaving the room.

I made faces at myself in the mirror, trying to come to terms with the reality that I was about to be married. I took a sip of champagne, savoring the effervescence on the roof of my mouth, and then downed a significant portion of the glass. What did it matter? If I were slightly tipsy, would anyone even notice?

Suddenly, I realized I hadI suddenly realized I had no idea where my shoes were. I was determined to find and wear the four-inch stilettos.

Unfortunately, my shoes were nowhere to be found in the room.

I walked to the bedroom door, peering out into the hallway of my cozy duplex. The backyard was a picturesque sight with its flowers and trees.

"Dana, can you see my shoes there?" I called out.

To my surprise, I received no immediate response. Maybe she was on a phone call. "Dana?" I tried again.

Finally, I heard deliberate footsteps approaching. I wasn't naive; my father's associates had trained me well. Something felt off. I never went anywhere without a firearm, a lesson instilled in me by my father from a young age.

I held the cold steel of the gun, positioning myself next to the door, ready to confront whoever dared to disrupt my wedding day.

I half-expected a group of thugs, individuals indebted to my father or connected to Ernesto's family. The Satoris were known for their ruthlessness and criminal activities, surpassing even my father's ambitions. This had to be about money.

As the footsteps drew closer, I held my breath, praying that the intruder hadn't harmed Dana. They would face my wrath in full.

Moments before the intruder entered the room, I caught a glimpse of his reflection.

His tall, lean figure and striking appearance took me aback. He looked more like a magazine cover model than a capo sent to kidnap me for ransom. Just as I could see him, he could see me. A sly grin adorned his face as he stood in the doorway. Dressed in black trousers and an ebony shirt, his white suit jacket added a touch of sophistication. Some might even describe him as suave.

The word "asshole" hovered on the tip of my tongue.

"Hello, Madeline."