Page 24 of Cruel Deception
My lips part, unbidden, a traitorous reflex, and I hate myself for it. His charm is a poison, seeping into me, and I’m drowning. “Cancel the wedding,” he says, his voice low, lethal. “Declare you’re mine, or you’ll see what I’m capable of.”
“No,” I snap, fear making me reckless. “Luca won’t let you touch me once I’m his wife. Stay away.” I push against his chest, my hands meeting hard muscle, unyielding as stone.
I snatch them back, my skin burning from the contact, wishing I could escape his suffocating presence.
A knock at the door shatters the moment, but Cassian doesn’t flinch.
I try to pull away, but he spins me, pressing my back against his chest, my body molded to his.
My breath catches as I feel him—hard, unyielding—against me, his lips grazing my neck, his breath hot. “You’ll pay for what your mother did to me,” he whispers, his voice a blade. “With your body, soul, and spirit.”
“Her sins... they belong to you now.”
My heart stops. My mother? “What are you talking about?” I choke out, confusion and fear tangling.
His hand slides under my shirt, his fingers splaying across my bare stomach, warm and possessive.
My body reacts, heat pooling low, but panic spikes—he’s too close to my scars. If he moves higher, he’ll know.
I need to tell Luca first, control the narrative. “You’re violating me,” I say, my voice trembling. “Take your hands off.”
His hand dips lower, brushing the edge of my jeans, and I grab his wrist, stopping him. My skin burns for him, shamefully, but this is wrong—Luca, the wedding, my mother’s fate. “Stop,” I plead, my voice barely a whisper.
He pauses, his hand lingering, then pulls back, his eyes locked on mine, dark with promise. “When we’re married, I won’t hold back,” he says, his voice a vow. “I’ll take you as I please, my wife.” He steps away, his gaze searing.
“See you at the altar,” he murmurs, like a threat wrapped in silk. Then the door clicks shut—and I’m left shaking, alone, claimed.
Chapter 6
CHARLOTTE
The bridal suite hums with quiet precision, a team of couturiers and stylists orbiting me like planets around a star.
Today is my wedding day to Luca Moretti—a man I’ve spoken to fewer times than I can count on one hand.
A man whose default setting seems to be “distant,” even when he’s smiling politely at me. Something tells me that smile masks something else entirely—resentment, perhaps. Or secrets even colder than Cassian’s.
One stylist adjusts the corset of my Vera Wang gown, its ivory silk organza cascading in delicate layers, the Chantilly lace bodice hugging my frame, carefully concealing the scars beneath.
Another brushes highlighter across my cheekbones, her hands steady as she sculpts my face into bridal perfection.
A third pins a cathedral-length veil into my chignon, its tulle shimmering like moonlight. I stare at my reflection, a vision of vows I don’t feel, my stomach twisting.
Luca’s been kind, distant, but Cassian’s words haunt me: “You’ll pay for what your mother did to me,”
He never explained what that meant.
Luca, for all his cold charisma, at least seems like the type of man who would explain. But I haven’t seen him—not properly—since that morning. Every attempt to reach him has been blocked. Meetings. Travel. Mafia business.
My calls go unanswered, my texts ignored.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
How do you marry someone who’s already married to his empire? This isn’t love; it’s duty, Grandfather’s dying wish tying me to the Morettis, a move on a bloody chessboard that’s been in play long before I was born.
Within a year, I’ll uncover why Grandfather wanted me to marry into the Moretti family—or I’ll walk away. There has to be a reason behind it, something he couldn’t tell me. And it’s been gnawing at me ever since.”
“Ready,” one of the dressers murmurs.
