The Devil's Bride.

On the night after the attack, Isabella slept in her room. Her eye sockets were so filled with blood she could not even shut her eyes. Every time she blinked Dante's face somehow surfaced in front of her-his fierce eyes staring into hers, his hand on her, his voice in her face insisting that she was his.

She tried to tell herself it was shock. That by morning it would all be far behind us. Except when she woke, Dante was there.

He was in the living room, wearing black. His men spread throughout the hall, silent and observing. Isabella paused on the second step of the stairs, her heart skipping.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Dante looked up. "Making sure you are safe."

"Two men died at your hand last night. More shrilling than she had intended it to be.

"They came to get you for Adrian. He took a step forward. "Do you want to be forced to get into Adrian's car instead?"

Isabella looked down, unable to respond.

Marco came in then, took a glass of whiskey despite the hour. "Dante is right," he said. ″Dante is here to stay. This family can not afford to make mistakes."

"Can't afford? "Isabella muttered her voice bitter. "I'm not some business asset."

Marco ignored her and addressed Dante. "The engagement is all set. We make the announcement tonight."

Isabella's body tensed. "Tonight?"

"Yes." Marco's tone allowed no argument.

Dante's eyes stayed on hers. "It's best this way. Quick. Clean."

She balled her fists, but didn't say a word.

The day moved slowly. Isabella aimlessly roamed the house to settle down. Sofia unbolted the door and followed her to the kitchen.

"Don't go, don't do it," said Sofia, in a whisper. "Please, Isabella. There must be another way."

"There isn't." Isabella went to the refrigerator, even though she didn't want anything to eat. "You want to marry Adrian? Because that's the only other choice."

Sofia's lips trembled. "I'd rather run away."

"And then what?" Isabella screwed on a cap of a water bottle too hard. "Father would find you. He always finds us."

Sofia sat at the table hiding her face in her hands. "I wish you didn't have to do this for me.

Isabella sighed and seated herself on the other side of her. "Stop crying. It's done."

They were so for a while. The cook entered, with a saucepan full of soup, appearing not to hear them, as they exchanged whispers.

Then Elena arrived. She wrapped her arms around Isabella's shoulders, then drew back to see her face. "You're pale," she said. "You don't want this, do you? "

"No," Isabella conceded in a low tone.

"Then fight it," Elena cried. "Don't marry him. You can't handle Dante He's a man. Now that you're his, you'll never be free.

Isabella's throat tightened. She wished she could trust Elena, that there was a choice. But at the core, she knew it was futile.

"Father won't let me decline," Isabella said.

Elena's eyes filled with pity. "He's making a mistake. And you are the one paying for it."

Isabella turned her face, as though to adjust her hair so that Elena would not see her tears.

-

The preparations were up and running fully by afternoon. There were people doing work and hanging lights and flowers all through the house. Fiddlers entered, tuning their instruments. Footmen ran in and out bearing trays of food and wine.

Isabella perched on her bed and looked at the dress that had been set out for her. It was white and clean and beautiful. Too pure for what she felt deep inside.

Sofia knocked once more, and she had a small box in hand. "Here. Wear these earrings. They were Mama's."

Isabella lifted the lid of the box, and glanced at the pearls. She recalled their mother donning them for every family event. Her heart was sore.

"Thank you," Isabella whispered. She hugged her sister tightly. "Stay close to me tonight."

Sofia nodded, wiping her eyes.

-

Night descended. The guests thronged the salon, and their laughter or talk was blended with the notes of the music. Isabella was at the top of the stairs with her stomach churning. She could feel eyes on her - suspicious, judgmental, salivating for scandal.

She saw Elena in the audience, shaking her head a little. She saw her father, smiling as if everything was fine. And then she spotted Dante.

He was tall and 6u.F one stood in the front, calm. His eyes found hers as soon as she was visible. She felt herself freeze under his gaze as she held her breath.

Sofia's hand squeezed hers. "You can always change your mind," she whispered.

"No," Isabella whispered in return. "It's too late."

They descended the stairs slowly. Guests clapped politely, cameras flashed. Isabella attempted to maintain a neutral expression, her spine held rigid.

When she came to a stop at the bottom, Dante had stepped out in front. He took her hand uninvited. He held on tight and didn't let go, no option other than to tow his lead.

They stood before everyone. Marco raised his glass. "Tonight, we are here to celebrate the joining of two great houses. Isabella, my daughter, will marry Dante Moretti.

The crowd applauded again. Isabella's throat constricted. She glanced at Sofia, who was crying quietly.

In a corner, Elena uttered something-Don't do it.

But Isabella didn't move. She couldn't.

Dante fished in his pocket and brought out a small box. He took the box and opened it, inside was a silver ring. Isabella's quivered as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Her flesh felt the chill of the metal.

He leaned in, his voice soft, and just for her. "You belong to me now.

Isabella lifted her eyes to his dark gaze. All that was around her dissolved. She knew in that instant there was no escape.

She was no longer her father's pawn. She was Dante's wife.