His Arranged Desire

Chapter Five

Isabella's POV

One month. That was all it took for my life to become unrecognizable.

One minute i was standing in my father's office and the next i was in a hotel room in a wedding dress.

I spent the last month packing up my life in Palermo Sicily.

The days blurred together, each one a countdown to the wedding that had been decided for me without my voice. My father walked taller, prouder, already basking in the glow of his alliance with Adrian Moretti. My mother tried to smile for me, her hands soft on mine, but I could see the sadness in her eyes every time she looked at me.

It was tradition, they said. In Italian weddings, the groom sent the dress.

Adrian didn't come himself, of course. Instead, his driver arrived one morning, carrying a garment bag like a soldier delivering orders. My mother and I unzipped it together, revealing ivory silk that shimmered like starlight. The lace was delicate, intricate, beautiful. Too beautiful for what it meant.

I touched the fabric, cold dread sinking into me. This was no gift-it was a declaration. You are mine. Even your wedding dress will bear my mark.

The morning of the wedding came too quickly.

Hence we are getting married in a church and not having an outdoor ceremony like i have always wanted.

I've always dreamed of getting married on s beach with my closest people around me surrounded with smiles and laughter.

But girls can't dream in a mafia life. I barely had a say in the wedding arrangements.

As my mother fastened the final buttons of the gown, she whispered, "You are strong, Isabella. Stronger than you know. Do not let him see your fear."

"I'm scared" I admitted it out loud for the first time since all of this started.

"I know and I'm sorry i couldn't stop it, it's going to be fine" She said as she took my hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I tried to believe her, but when I caught my reflection in the mirror, all I saw was a girl dressed as a bride, walking into a cage.

The church was filled with faces I recognized from whispers, men with sharp suits and sharper eyes, women glittering with jewels. Mafia royalty, gathered to witness the merging of two empires.

With deep breath, i stepped up to the alter coming face to face with Adrain Moretti in all of his glory.

He wore black, of course-tailored to perfection, every line of him cut from arrogance and power. But it wasn't his clothes that stole the air from my lungs.

It was him.

The glossy sweep of black hair, neatly styled but rebelliously falling across his forehead. The lashes, so long they shadowed his piercing eyes. High cheekbones, sharp jaw, and lips-softly pink, too beautiful for a man who carried so much darkness inside him.

The church hushed as he looked at me. Not with warmth. Not with love. But with a gaze that lingered, burning, as though he was both irritated by me and fascinated at the same time.

When I stepped forward, my father's arm stiff beside mine, my heart pounded so hard I feared it might echo in the silence. Adrian's eyes never left mine.

In that moment, I hated him for his beauty. Because beauty was a trap, and Adrian Moretti was the deadliest snare of them all.

Adrain's mulky green eyes were cold and devoid of warmth. He looked at me as if I wasn't there.

Meanwhile my heart was pounding and palms sweating like crazy.

The priest was alongside us, ready to start the ceremony with a peppy smile on his face.

And i wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying.

How could i when i was avoiding looking directly at the person right across from me.

He was standing there handsomely without a smile on his face staring int my soul. Dressed in his fancy black suit and looking dangerously handsome.

The priest's words rang in my ears like a final verdict.

"With this ring, I thee wed."

Adrian slid the band onto my finger, his touch firm, unyielding. My hand trembled, but I forced my chin higher, refusing to let him see the fear pressing against my ribs.

Then it was my turn. My lips shaped the words, but they didn't feel like mine. They belonged to duty, to bloodlines, to the empire my father wanted to build.

When the priest finally declared us husband and wife, Adrian didn't hesitate. He leaned in, his hand cupping the side of my face and i automatically closed my eyes out of fear before i felt his soft, warm lips pressed on top of mine.

It wasn't gentle. But it was sweet.

It was possessive. Fierce. His lips claimed mine with a passion that stole my breath, a reminder that this was my first kiss-and he had taken it, branded it, made it his.

My knees weakened, and when his eyes locked onto mine afterward, I felt a shiver race through me. Dark, endless, unrelenting, his gaze held me captive. It was as though he wanted me to drown in it, to know with certainty that escape was impossible.

Applause erupted behind us, but I barely heard it. My world had narrowed to the pounding of my heart and the man whose lips still lingered on mine.

And just like that Isabella Romano became Isabella Moretti.

~~~~~~~~

The reception that followed was grand, dazzling, filled with toasts and laughter that didn't reach my ears. I smiled when required, accepted congratulations, danced when pushed to-but I felt like a doll in a glass case, watched and judged.

Adrian stayed close, his hand always at the small of my back, his presence both protective and suffocating. He didn't drink much, didn't laugh, didn't indulge in pleasantries. He was simply there, radiating control, every guest bowing to him with respect tinged with fear.

Halfway through the evening, he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "We're leaving."

It wasn't a request.

My breath hitched. "The reception isn't over."

His gaze burned into mine, and he smirked faintly. "It is for us."

I swallowed hard, glancing toward the head table where my parents sat. My father's eyes glittered with satisfaction, but my mother's gaze found mine-soft, wet with unspoken words.

"I need to say goodbye," I whispered.

Adrian gave a curt nod, though his hand never left me as he led me toward them.

My father kissed my cheek, his words sharp and prideful. "Remember who you are, Isabella. You are a Romano. Don't shame us."

My throat tightened, but I managed a nod.

My mother embraced me next, holding me tighter than she ever had before. "You'll be all right," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You are stronger than you know. And no matter what, my heart goes with you."

I clung to her for a moment, fighting back the tears threatening to fall, before Adrian's hand closed over mine, tugging me gently but firmly away.

When we stepped out into the night, his car waiting with its dark promise, I knew there was no going back.

I was his now.

Completely.