Page 30 of Wretched Choices

Isabella

I made a deal with the devil.

So, here I am, standing in front of the mirror in the suite arranged for the bride in a small chapel, caught by surprise. Even if we didn’t discuss where the wedding would be, I talked to Clara and was invested in the wedding plans. Now, I’m questioning myself and how this slipped by me.

I can’t blame Clara for not being honest with me. After all, she works for the family. Clara, a petite woman my age, was thrilled when I met with her to plan my wedding. For me, the ceremony was not as important as it was to avoid Salvatore.

Why did he choose to get married in a chapel if our marriage has a deadline? A marriage in front of God should last forever, until death do us part. It is too late now to question his choices; I sealed my future the moment Salvatore discovered who I was.

My hair is perfectly styled in a low updo, and my makeup is immaculate. I run my hand down my champagne lace mermaid wedding dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. I chose the dress. I didn’t want to marry in white, and in a way, I wanted to impress Salvatore, to show him what he will never have. I adjust the veil, letting it fall from my bare back down to the floor. The lace of the veil doesn’t cover the opening of the dress from the back that ends just an inch from the beginning of my behind.

I take a deep breath and straighten my posture, preparing myself to face my future husband and enter a new chapter of my life.

The ceremony should include less than fifty people, mostly high-ranking men in the family and their wives. None that I knew. We agreed only on a ceremony with a dinner. No party, no music. Pictures for my father and the public.

“You ready?” Clara peeks from behind the door.

I grab the bouquet from the sofa and turn to her. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

She widens her eyes in admiration. “You are beautiful, and this dress is… Wow, I don’t have words.”

“Thank you, Clara.”

“Well, let’s get you married then,” she chirps, and I follow her as she walks out of the room.

I walk down the aisle alone with small, confident steps, my head held high, taking in confused looks and raised eyebrows as I walk toward my future husband. His eyes haven’t left me for one second as I walk toward him.

I take his outstretched hand, and he pulls me toward him. He lowers his lips to my cheek, near my ear. What looks like a kiss on the cheek isn’t.

His breath brushes my skin, and his deep, amused voice fills my ear. “Are you trying to get my men killed? Is that why you chose this dress?”

I smile, pulling away and turning toward the man who will marry us.

This is it. Today, I’m going back to the life I ran away from. The life I hated. The difference is, this time, I chose the villain, but under my rules.

“Dearly beloved...” The ceremony starts, and as soon as we sayI do, we are announced man and wife.

Before the priest even says, “you may kiss the bride,” Salvatore pulls me to his body and slams his lips on mine, not giving me a chance to react.

He kisses me with his eyes open, his stare penetrating my soul. I can’t even blink as I let him devour me in front of all these people.

This isn’t a kiss like we shared in my apartment, lustful and passionate; it’s more. It’s consumed by hunger and domination, showing them his possessiveness. Showing them he owns me.

It’s a show for his men.

Anger rises through my spine, and I bite his lip. The copper taste of blood fills my mouth, and he growls. He kisses me harder. More tongue. More sucking.

I moan.

He pulls from me with a smirk on his face. Lost in our little game, I forgot all the people cheering and clapping. I don’t get to think before Salvatore wraps his hand around my waist, pulling me to him as we walk through the crowd and into the waiting car.

A few weeks ago, I was in this same room on my hunt to find some dirty information about Salvatore, to prove what I know now. I was so confident in myself, and in my mission, that I lost the game. And now I’m in a room filled with people I don’t know, married to the man I wanted to slam and air his dirty laundry.

Clara did a beautiful job with gold and white, and the outcome is classy. White roses and long candlesticks in the middle of the tables give the decor an expensive look.

Everyone that was in the chapel is now sitting in their place and cheering as we walk in. Everyone here is involved with or is La Cosa Nostra.

The few people I know are my husband, Gabriel, and mysterious Dante, who I have seen plenty of times but haven’t spoken a word to. He only nods or grunts when I try to communicate with him.

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