Page 24 of The Enforcer's Possession
The right side belonged to the De Lucas.I’d met some of them briefly during the rushed engagement period, but most were strangers to me.They sat with the confidence of people who expected violence and weren’t particularly bothered by it.Hard faces and harder eyes, men and women who’d built their power through brutality rather than political maneuvering.
Francesca De Luca sat in the front row.She wore burgundy Armani, and I could swear I felt her staring me down.Next to her was an older man I recognized as Dante’s uncle -- one of the family’s senior members, his scarred hands resting on a cane that probably concealed a weapon.
The families watched each other as much as they watched us.Calculating.Assessing.Looking for signs of weakness or advantage in this new alliance.
The priest cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him.“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Dante De Luca and Caterina Lombardi.”
Dante’s thumb started tracing small circles against my back.The gesture would have looked affectionate to anyone watching.But I could feel the possession in it, the reminder that he could touch me however he wanted now.That I’d given him that right.
My breathing wanted to go shallow again.I forced it steady, forced my expression into something that might pass for bridal happiness if you didn’t look too closely.
“Marriage is a sacred bond,” the priest continued, his voice carrying across the silent ballroom.“A promise made before God and witnesses, to love and honor --”
“To possess and protect,” Dante murmured, so quietly only I could hear.His breath was warm against my ear, his body close enough that I could feel the heat of him through the layers of silk and wool between us.“That’s what I’m promising you, Caterina.Complete possession.Total protection.”
My pulse jumped.I kept my eyes forward, on the priest, but every nerve ending I had was focused on the man beside me.On his hand at my back.On his words that rewrote the ceremony happening around us into something else entirely.
“In sickness and in health,” the priest said.
“In pleasure and in pain,” Dante whispered.
My fingers curled into fists, the bouquet mama had handed me earlier crushed in my grip.White roses and stephanotis, their heavy scent suddenly cloying.
“For richer or poorer.”
“For your obedience or punishment.”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.Found them already on me.This wasn’t nerves or last-minute doubts.This was a man who knew exactly what he’d negotiated for and intended to collect every piece of it.
“You’re rewriting the vows,” I said, keeping my voice low enough that the microphone wouldn’t catch it.
“I’m clarifying them.”His hand slid up slightly, fingers tracing the curve of my spine in a way that made me shiver despite myself.“The priest is talking about some sanitized version of marriage.I’m telling you what ours will actually be.”
“The contract --”
“Ends where my bedroom door closes.”His fingers found a particularly sensitive spot just below my shoulder blade and pressed.Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point.“You agreed to this, princess.Complete submission behind closed doors.Those were my terms.”
“I thought --” I cut myself off, realizing that finishing that sentence would admit weakness.
“You thought you’d have more control.”His lips curved slightly.“You thought the contract gave you power.But all it did was make our arrangement legal.The actual terms?Those are mine to enforce.”
The priest was asking us to face each other now.Dante shifted, turning me with hands that were simultaneously gentle and inflexible, until I stood looking up at him fully.This close, I could see the faint scar along his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble despite his otherwise immaculate grooming, the absolute focus in his eyes.
“Repeat after me,” the priest said.“I, Dante De Luca…”
“I, Dante De Luca…” He paused, his gaze never leaving mine.“Take you, Caterina Lombardi…”
The words continued.Traditional vows about honor and respect and love.Dante spoke them clearly, his voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom.But underneath the formal words, his hand at my back communicated a different message entirely.His thumb traced patterns against my skin -- circles and lines and shapes that felt almost like he was writing something.Branding something.
Claiming something.
Then it was my turn.
“I, Caterina Lombardi…” My voice came out steadier than I felt.Small victory.“Take you, Dante De Luca…”
Each word felt weighted.Not with romance or love or any of the things wedding vows were supposed to carry.With finality.With the understanding that this was legally binding, that walking away after this would require lawyers and paperwork and Papa’s approval, which I’d never get.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward…”
