The Don S Wrong Bride Novels & Stories

It was the morning of our wedding. The house was already packed. The servant quarters were buzzing with activity, and Papa was the first to get dressed. I had climbed down the stairs to see what the whole noise and cheers were all about. Only to find out that they were cheering Papa. I backed away to the stairs and turned right into Edoardo's broad chest. "It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." Hollered Aunt Dorcas from the room, but Edoardo only laughed.

The room froze. Lillian stared at him like she had misheard. “No,” she said slowly. “I’m your wife.” Adrian met her gaze steadily. “You stopped being my bride the moment you ran away.” Lillian’s face turned pale. “You can’t be serious.” “Oh,” Selena whispered with a grin. “This just got interesting.” Elara stood silently beside the table, her heart racing. Because the man she had accidentally married…had just chosen her. And the real bride was not about to accept that quietly.

"This is impossible!" Lana's voice shifted in pitch as she gazed at the wedding invitation. "You're... really getting married? Cruz! You went ahead and got a marriage license with her without letting me know? And you even altered the name? You... You've gone too far!" Lana's eyes quickly turned red. Tears swirled in her eyes like she was in extreme distress. I was completely speechless, thinking, 'This woman must have graduated from an acting school! It's a pity she didn't become an actress.' '

Only dread. She tried to speak once, her voice rough. “What is this for?” The seamstress with the pins in her mouth removed them just long enough to answer. “La sposa. The bride.” She said it simply, as if it explained everything. “I didn’t agree to this,” Rose whispered. Another seamstress hushed her with a quick shake of the head. “Do not speak. The Don wants perfection. Do not ruin it.” So she stayed quiet as they worked, though her stomach twisted tighter with each adjustment.

One could easily cut the tension in the air with a knife. The doors of the chapel opened. And everyone stood up to look at the bride walk in. Anatoly felt the beating of his heart in his ears. He also followed the guests and looked ahead. There she was, his future wife, donna and the future mother to his heirs. A fucking disabled. He saw her walking down the aisle with her brother, one arm holding the bouquet, and the other tightly holding her brother's arm. No, she wasn't walking straight. She was fucking limping. Her prosthesis were nowhere to be seen and were perfectly hidden behind the heavy white dress.

And at the center of it all, he stood. The Don. Nikolai De Luca. He stood at the altar like he owned not just the room, but every life inside it. Tailored black suit, posture effortless, gaze steady. Before I could blink, his eyes met mine cold, sharp and steady and heads turned immediately while I froze. “And the bride is headed to the stage,” the officiant announced and slowly, my legs moved while every part of my body trembled It took forever but I walked the aisle joining the Don and the man and time passed all around me as the ceremony started. Every word felt like a dagger to my skin even as it faded against my ears.

He let go of my wrists, his hands sliding up my arms, strong and possessive, until his palms framed my jaw, lifting my face into the light. "I knew right then," Dante said softly, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip. "If I ever put a woman in this tower, if I ever let someone sleep behind my locks, it wouldn't be a socialite looking for an expense account. It would be the only person in Chicago who knows what it costs to bleed for the people she loves." "Dante," I whispered, my heart knocking violently against my ribs. "You're not a substitute bride, Eloise," he said, his gray eyes burning into mine with an intensity that stole the remaining air from my chest. "You were the only bri

They were just leaving the boutique, flanked by their new mistresses. The moment they recognized me, they deliberately fanned out to block my path. “Well, if it isn’t Donna Cross. We haven’t seen you around lately.” “Haven’t you heard? The Don filed a preemptive divorce suit against her. She isn’t the Donna anymore—the real lady of the house just walked right past us a minute ago.” The men erupted into crude, mocking laughter. “That throne belonged to her sister in the first place anyway.” “Word is this one refuses to sign the divorce papers, so the Don was forced to sue her. You should just sign the damn things and save yourself whatever dignity you have left.”

I wasn’t falling for him,the man was a killer,I had seen the blood on his shirt, heard the screams drifting up from the basement. A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts,one of the maids,young, nervous, eyes downcast,entered carrying a silver tray. “Signorina Romano, Don Del Brenta asked that I bring you tea and some documents for the wedding,he said you should look them over.” Documents,of course,more contracts,more ways to bind me,I nodded curtly and took the tray,as she turned to leave, something slipped from her apron pocket and fluttered to the floor,a small, folded piece of paper,she didn’t notice,or pretended not to.

The guy’s eyes widened, same as me. “What? What? What the fuck? What?” he raised his voice. “Do you have a problem with that?” his father asked. “Yes! I don't know this woman and I can't get married to her.” Yeah, no shit. I don't even know his name and who wants to marry him? “You should have thought of that before admitting that you are getting married to her in front of hundreds of reporters!” he yelled at him. “That doesn't mean I have to marry her, we can call her a crazy fan… “