Page 28 of Dark Mafia Heir

She snorts with derision and rolls her eyes. “You’ll be beautiful with a knife in your heart,” she whispers back.

We both face the priest, and the old man smiles at us before he begins his sermon.

“That’s not a nice thing to say to your husband,” I tease. “We’ll be married in a couple of minutes. You should learn to be nice.”

She huffs out a sigh, and her teeth dig into her lower lips. “Stealing women and forcing them to marry you is not nice, but here we are, husband.”

I chuckle at the meanness in her tone as she drags out the wordhusband.I’m glad to see her fierce spirit hasn’t died down yet. She’s not the type to give up even when she’s been defeated.

“Women? You’re the only woman I’ve ever stolen,gattina,” I say, inching closer to her. She smells so good and something inside me is itching to just breathe her in.

“You sound proud of yourself.”

“I am,” I agree. “Taking you away from that restaurant is one of the best things I’ve done. I don’t regret it.”

She hisses. “That’s a weird thing to be proud of, but I’m sure you’ll regret it soon.”

I’m about to reply when the priest calls for our rings.

Luca steps forward with them.

We exchange our vows, and though I expect Vivienne to be hesitant, she doesn’t even stutter as she says her.

To anyone watching from the outside, they’d think she’s just accepted her fate. But I know her too well to think so. She’s probably planning a million ways to kill me, and I’m boiling with excitement as I anticipate what her methods will be.

The guests start to clap when the priest pronounces us husband and wife, and says, “You may kiss your bride.”

11

Vivienne

My heart throbs against my ribcage, but not with fear. It’s something darker, something I hate admitting even to myself.

The man standing in front of me—my enemy and my husband—makes my breath hitch. He looks absolutely dashing in his black suit and that fifties pompadour.

He’s watching me, his gaze never once leaving mine, like he owns me. And that’s the part that makes my blood boil. Hethinkshe does. The vows are said, but they feel hollow, nothing but a farce.

A lie we’re forced to tell in front of everyone here.

This is wrong. Every second of this day has been wrong. He kidnapped me, forced me into this dress, into this marriage. He stole my freedom, made me his prisoner.

But despite the hatred coiling in my stomach, I can’t ignore the way my body reacts when he’s near. The tension crackles in the air between us, and I despise it almost as much as I despise him.

The priest steps back, and it’s time. Time for the kiss in front of everyone that will mark me as his forever—unless he is dead, that is.

The room fades into a blur of faces, but all I see is him, standing so tall, so composed, like he’s already won. My fists curl at my sides, my nails biting into my palms.

How dare he?

He leans in, so close I can feel his breath on my lips. My heart stutters, and I curse myself for it. Then, in a voice only I can hear, he whispers, his words sliding over me like silk, yet sharp as a knife.

“You’re mine now,gattina,” he says, his warm breath glazing over my neck like the tempting whisper of in. “You’re mine forever. Let another man touch you, and you’ll realize how truly ruthless I can be.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I hate that my body reacts to it.

His eyes are dark and unyielding as they lock onto mine, daring me to defy him.

For a split second, I consider it, but I know I won’t. I can’t. Because as much as I want to push him away, as much as I should hate every part of this, there’s a part of me that craves him.

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