Page 45 of Devilish Prince

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SOFIA

The dress is too tight, loaded down with beads and jewels on it which I swear are real. The thing is so heavy I can't even lift it myself. I have to have three women carry the train as I walk. The hairdresser is annoying too, refusing to put my hair down how I like it. Lorenzo ordered an up do so it's what is being forced upon me.

The dressing room I'm in is the size of a small ballroom. The walls are painted a deep, regal red with gold trim and accents. Two large mirrors hang on opposite walls, and between them is an elegant vanity table with a matching chair next to it. Soft light fills the room from two crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, giving the area a warm and inviting glow. I haven't seen the actual sanctuary of this place, but if this is anything to go by, Lorenzo spent a fortune on just the venue.

My dresser stands to one side of me, helping me adjust my gown as necessary while I stand in front of one of the mirrors. She's wearing a navy blue dress uniform that matches her eyes perfectly, her long chestnut hair tied back into a neat braid, reminiscent of an airline stewardess. And her lips are puckeredinto a pout as she fidgets with the zipper, trying to zip it up all the way. There is a bit of material jammed in it so it's stuck fast.

"What a pain in the ass," she moans, jerking on the zipper pull.

I focus on my reflection though. The dress is breathtaking. The beading and jewels cover the entire bodice, from the neckline all the way down to the waist. The skirt is a beautiful white tulle with a delicate lace overlay that flows into a long train behind me. I feel like a princess in it. It's probably the most expensive thing I've ever touched, let alone worn. I swear these are real diamonds on the bodice, not just paste.

My hair has been swept up in an intricate braided bun, and a few tendrils have been left loose to frame my face. More gems dot my hair and sparkle in the light overhead. My cheeks are flushed pink from all of the nervousness, but my eyes still look forlorn. You're doing this for Calvin... I remind myself as I turn and see the wedding planner enter the room.

"They're ready for you out front, Sofia."

Adelina looks as on-edge as me. I'm sure it isn't every day that she plans a wedding for a mobster where the bride is being forced to wed against her will. She looks as if she wants to bolt, her dark brown eyes wide and her short black hair disheveled. She's wearing an expensive black skirt suit that looks as though it cost a small fortune. Her slim figure is accentuated by the tailored fit of the suit, and her ruby red lips are pursed in an expression of unease. I can tell she's trying to be brave and supportive for me, but I know she would rather be anywhere else right now.

"Yes, okay..." I breathe, sighing. I'm signing my life away today, just giving in to Lorenzo's selfish demands, all so that Calvin canget on that plane tomorrow and be back in the states to start his trial on time. The new medical procedures have to work for him, and I can't stand in the way. Me marrying Lorenzo is the only way to make that happen.

I make my way to the entrance of the cathedral's sanctuary where Lorenzo is waiting for me. As I approach, following Adelina, my eyes meet his, and a shiver runs down my spine. He's dressed in a black tuxedo, and his slicked-back hair makes him look even more menacing than usual. He's the epitome of power and control, and I can't help but feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter as he notices me

"Sofia, mia cara," he murmurs, taking my hand and planting a kiss on the back of it. "You look absolutely stunning today."

I try to keep my face expressionless, but I can feel my cheeks burn. He's so infuriatingly charming, and I can tell he knows it. I want to pull away from him, but my feet are rooted to the ground.

"Thank you," is all I manage to say before Adelina makes her way into the sanctuary with a relieved look on her face. Her job will be over when this day ends, but I'm signing my soul away. I've made a deal with the Devil, and it's immutable.

My gaze follows her as she walks away, and then I turn back to Lorenzo who is still holding my hand in his own. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. It never does. He's Satan incarnate; why would he have genuine happiness over the idea of marrying me? He knows this isn't what I want. He knows he's imposing his will on me.

"It's time, Sofia," he says softly.

I take a deep breath and nod my head, letting him lead me into the cathedral. The aisle is lined with white roses and the entire sanctuary is filled with people here to witness my misfortune. I can feel their eyes on me as I walk down the aisle, arm-in-arm with Lorenzo. He looks proud to have me by his side, but all I feel is shame. Shame for giving in so easily, for not fighting harder for what I wanted.

I'm furious and terrified for my future and my career as a surgeon, knowing what I'm giving up so Calvin can have the opportunity to walk again. I want to scream out, to run away from here, but I know it won't do any good. Lorenzo has all the power here, and if I don't go through with this wedding he will make sure Calvin doesn't get on the plane tomorrow. The thought of it makes my stomach roll with nausea and my head spin. I lean on Lorenzo harder as we make our way down the aisle to the front.

The priest stands beneath an arch of roses, woven together around a brown wicker garden arch. The altar is adorned with white and pink roses, lilies, and baby's breath. Candles in tall glass vases flicker around the room, adding a soft light to the otherwise dull atmosphere. I feel my heart sink even further as I take in the sight. I always thought my wedding day would be a joyous occasion, but instead it feels like a funeral for my dreams. The pit of my stomach feels like acid burning through me.

I take my place next to Lorenzo at the altar, trying to keep my breathing steady and my gaze focused on anything but his face. The priest begins speaking in Latin, and I'm barely able to make out any of his words. They ring hollowly in my ears. Everything around me is a blur; all I can focus on is my own fear and anguish, the dull thud of my pulse against my eardrums. I squirm and glance over my shoulder. If I run, will he stop me?

His lips quirk up in a small smile, and I can feel a warmth radiating from him despite the coldness of his skin. My head drops in torment. If I run, I can't save Calvin. Lorenzo will follow me. Defying him again will mean death.

He nudges me. "Sofia, mia cara," he says softly. "This is our destiny."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I can feel the tears start to well up in my eyes. This isn't what I want; this isn't how it's supposed to go. Fear lashes at my throat, constricting it and Lorenzo's polite words turn harsh. "Knock it the fuck off, Sofia." His low growl and the way he possessively clasps my arm against his side terrify me. I want to run, to scream, but I can't. I'm trapped.

The priest continues the ceremony, and my heart beats faster as he asks us to speak our vows. I can hardly hear myself say them, they come out in a whisper, and when Lorenzo repeats his own after me, I know it's over. We are now bound together for eternity, and there is nothing I can do about it.

My vision blurs as tears start to fall down my cheeks. I don't even realize Lorenzo has reached up to wipe them away until his thumb brushes against my skin. His voice is gentle now, a stark contrast to the hardness of just moments ago. "It's alright," he says softly. "Everything will be alright."

But I know he's not just talking about the wedding. He's giving me a veiled threat, one that says if I don't comply with his wishes, he will make sure I suffer the consequences. His voice is calm but there's an underlying edge to it that sends shivers down my spine.

I nod silently and try to put on a brave face as we turn away from the altar and walk back down the aisle together, three women in tow, holding my train up.

The reception is a blur. I drink far too much champagne and Lorenzo has Lord carry me to the limo where I pass out. Hours later, I think—I’m not sure how much time passes—I find myself stripped naked, lying on his bed at his home.

The room is bright, as if extra lighting has been brought in, or maybe it’s just how much I drank at the wedding reception. My head throbs and my vision is a bit blurry. I’m covered, but I feel the warmth of the blankets on my bare skin. My body doesn’t feel like I’ve been assaulted, though I wouldn’t put it past him to fuck me while I was passed out.

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