10. Mia
10
MIA
T he morning of my wedding dawns bright and clear, a cruel mockery of the storm raging inside me. I sit at the vanity in my temporary room, staring at my reflection without really seeing it.
How did I end up here? Just yesterday, I was celebrating my birthday, surrounded by family and friends. Now, I’m about to marry a man I barely know, a man who kidnapped my sister and nearly killed my brother-in-law.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I call, my voice barely above a whisper.
Two women enter, their faces kind but cautious. I recognize them as part of Luca’s household staff.
“Good morning, Miss Marino,” the older of the two says gently. “We’re here to help you prepare for the ceremony.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As they begin to bustle around the room, laying out makeup and hair tools, I can’t help but think of my sisters and mother. They should be here with me, helping me get ready, sharing in this moment, like we did for Chiara’s wedding.
Instead, I’m surrounded by strangers on what should be the happiest day of my life.
The younger woman, noticing my distress, places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, Miss,” she says softly. “We’ll take good care of you.”
Her kindness, unexpected in this place, brings tears to my eyes. I blink them back, determined not to cry. I won’t give Luca the satisfaction of seeing me broken.
The women chat quietly, trying to put me at ease as they work on my hair and makeup. They tell me about the preparations for the ceremony, about the flowers that have been brought in, about the chef working on a special meal for later. Their words wash over me, a soothing background noise that helps to calm my racing thoughts.
When it’s time to put on the dress, my breath catches in my throat. It’s beautiful, a vintage piece that’s been expertly altered to fit me. But it’s not mine. Not really.
My sisters got dresses that they wanted.
“It was Mr. Strambo’s mother’s dress,” the older woman explains as they help me into it. “We did our best to modernize it for you.”
I run my hands over the delicate lace, the soft silk. It’s a stunning gown, but all I can think about is how wrong this feels. This should have been a joyous occasion, picking out my own dress with my sisters and mother.
Instead, I’m wearing a stranger’s gown, about to marry a man who sees me as nothing more than a pawn in his game of revenge.
I barely recognize the woman staring back at me in the full-length mirror. She looks beautiful, yes, but her eyes are filled with a sadness that no amount of makeup can hide.
“You look lovely, Miss,” the younger woman says, her voice full of genuine warmth.
I manage a small smile. “Thank you,” I whisper. “And thank you both for your kindness. It… it means more than you know.”
They exchange a glance, and I see a flicker of sympathy in their eyes. Do they know the full story? Do they understand that this is not a love match, but a forced union?
Before I can dwell on it further, there’s another knock at the door. It’s time.
The walk to the chapel feels like the longest of my life. Each step is a battle, my heart screaming at me to run, to flee, while my mind reminds me of why I’m doing this.
For Sofia. For Dom. For their unborn child.
As I reach the chapel doors, I’m struck by a wave of grief so intense it nearly brings me to my knees. Papa should be here. He should be the one walking me down the aisle, beaming with pride as he gives me away as I marry a man I love.
Instead, I’m alone, about to pledge myself to a man who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end.
I’ve failed him. Failed to fulfill his last wish of seeing me happily married. This mockery of a wedding would break his heart if he could see it.
But there’s no time for tears now. The doors open, and I force myself to step forward.
The chapel is small, intimate. Flowers adorn every surface, their sweet scents filling the air. But I barely notice any of it. My eyes are fixed on the man waiting for me at the altar.
Luca Strambo stands tall and imposing in his tuxedo, his eyes never leaving mine as I make my way down the aisle. I search his face for some sign of emotion—triumph, perhaps, or satisfaction at having won this twisted game. But all I see is an intensity that makes my heart race for reasons I don’t want to examine too closely.
The ceremony passes in a blur. I speak my vows in a voice that sounds far steadier than I feel, promising to love and cherish a man I barely know. A man who, just days ago, I would have considered an enemy.
And then it’s time for the kiss. I brace myself, expecting it to be hard, possessive. A conqueror claiming his prize.
But when Luca’s lips meet mine, I’m shocked by how gentle he is. His kiss is soft, almost tender, and entirely too seductive. For a moment, just a moment, all the pain and fear of the day wash away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through my entire body.
When we part, I’m breathless, my mind reeling. What was that? How can a kiss from this man, this stranger who’s upended my entire life, affect me so deeply?
Before I can process it, we’re walking back down the aisle, confetti raining down on us. Luca’s hand is warm and steady on my lower back, guiding me forward.
Into our new life together, for better or for worse.
As we step out of the chapel into the warm afternoon sun, I’m struck by the surreal nature of the moment. Just yesterday, I was celebrating my birthday, surrounded by family and potential suitors.
Now, I’m married.
“Smile for the camera, Mrs. Strambo,” Luca murmurs, nodding toward the photographer who’s circling us.
I bristle at the new name and the command. A spark of defiance ignites within me, surprising even myself. “I think I’ve smiled enough for one day, Mr. Strambo,” I say. “My cheeks are starting to hurt.”
Luca blinks, clearly taken aback by my response. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any discomfort on our wedding day,” he replies, unable to keep a hint of amusement from his voice.
I raise an eyebrow, channeling my sisters’ strength. “Oh? And here I thought discomfort was the theme of the day.”
My words seem to catch Luca off guard. For a moment, I see a flicker of something—regret?—in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
“You surprise me, Mia,” he says, leading me to a quiet corner away from the prying eyes and ears of his men. “I didn’t expect such… candor from you.”
I look up at him, irritation and fear coursing through me. “Would you prefer I simper and swoon, Husband ?” The word ‘husband’ comes out sharper than I intended.
Ah, well.
Luca chuckles, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “No, I don’t think that would suit either of us, would it?”
For a moment, we stand in silence, the sounds of the small celebration washing over us. I can feel Luca’s eyes on me, studying my face. I keep my expression as neutral as possible, but I know he can see the tension in my jaw, the slight furrow between my brows.
Despite my brave words, I can’t hide the toll this day has taken on me.
“Look,” Luca says, his voice surprisingly gentle, “I know this isn’t what you wanted. But we’re here now, and we might as well make the best of it.”
His words ignite a fresh wave of anger within me. “Make the best of it?” I repeat, furious. “You took me from my family, tried to kill my brother-in-law, forced me into this marriage, and now you want to ‘make the best of it’?”
Luca opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off, surprising myself with my boldness.
“Let me be clear, Luca,” I say, injecting as much steel into my voice as I can muster. “I’m here because I chose to be, to protect my family. But don’t for a second think that means I’m going to play the happy bride. You might have won this round, but don’t underestimate me.”
I watch as a mix of emotions flickers across Luca’s face—admiration, frustration, and something else I can’t quite name.
“I wouldn’t dream of underestimating you, Mia Strambo,” he says finally, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I try not to flinch at the sound of my new name. “I think you might just keep me on my toes.”
His words catch me off guard. For a moment, I feel a flash of… something. Not quite attraction, but a spark of interest, perhaps. But I quickly school my features back into a mask of cool indifference. “Good,” I say simply. “See that you don’t forget it.”
With that, I turn and walk away, forcing myself to keep my head high despite the turmoil in my heart. I half expect Luca to call me back or grab my arm, but he doesn’t. Instead, after a moment, I hear his footsteps behind me as he catches up.
“Shall we?” he says, gesturing toward the house. “I believe our wedding feast awaits.”
I nod stiffly, allowing him to guide me back to the house. As we walk, I’m acutely aware of his presence beside me, of the eyes of his men following our every move. This is my life now, I realize. This man, this house, these people—they’re my world now, for better or worse.
We enter the formal dining room, where a small, elegant meal has been laid out. It’s nothing like the grand reception I might have imagined for my wedding day, but then again, nothing about this day has been what I imagined.
Luca helps me into my chair and then he also takes his seat, his eyes never leaving mine.
At first, the silence is oppressive. I push food around my plate, unable to eat, acutely aware of the man sitting across from me. The man who kidnapped my sister, who forced me into this marriage.
The man who kissed me like I was something precious.
“You should eat,” Luca says, breaking the silence. “It’s been a long day.”
I look up, meeting his eyes. “I’m not very hungry,” I reply.
He nods, a flicker of something passing across his face. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” he says softly. “But I meant what I said in my vows, Mia. I will take care of you.”
His words catch me off guard. “Why?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Why do you care? I’m just a pawn in your game against Dom, aren’t I?”
Luca is silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re more than that,” he says finally. “I’m beginning to realize that you’re much more than I anticipated.”
Something in his tone, in the intensity of his gaze, makes my heart skip a beat. I look away, unsure how to respond.
But as the meal progresses, we begin to talk. Hesitantly at first, then with growing ease. We speak of books we’ve read, places we’d like to see. It’s eerily reminiscent of our conversation on the terrace when I thought he was Leonardo.
Despite everything, I find myself drawn into the discussion, almost forgetting the circumstances that brought us here.
Almost.
As the last plates are cleared away, reality comes crashing back. It’s time to retire for the night. Time to face what comes next.
My heart pounds as we make our way upstairs, each step bringing us closer to the moment I’ve been dreading all day. I’m a virgin, completely inexperienced in the ways of physical intimacy. And while Luca has been surprisingly gentle so far, I’ve seen the violence he’s capable of. The thought of what might happen next terrifies me.
We reach the bedroom—our bedroom now—and I pause at the threshold. Luca seems to sense my hesitation. He turns to me, his eyes soft in the dim light of the hallway.
“Mia,” he says gently, “I won’t force you. If you’re not ready, if you need time?—”
“No,” I interrupt, surprising myself with my vehemence. “No, I… I want to honor my vows. Our vows.”
Luca studies me for a long moment, then nods. He steps into the room, holding out his hand to me. After a brief hesitation, I take it, allowing him to lead me inside.
The room is bathed in soft candlelight, the bed a sea of white linens that seems to glow in the gentle illumination. It's beautiful, even romantic. But it does little to calm the nervousness fluttering in my stomach.
Luca approaches me slowly, as if I’m a wild animal he’s afraid of startling. His hands come to rest on my waist, and I have to fight the urge to flinch away.
“We’ll take this slow,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “If you want to stop at any time, just say the word.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. And then his lips are on mine, and the world falls away.
This kiss is different from the one in the chapel. It’s deeper, more intense, but still achingly gentle. Luca’s hands slide up my back, pulling me closer, and I find myself melting into his embrace.
My body comes alive under his touch, responding in ways I never knew it could. A warmth spreads through me, starting from where his lips meet mine and radiating outward until I feel like I’m glowing from within. Every nerve ending seems to spark and tingle, hyper-aware of each point of contact between us.
His fingers trace the curve of my spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I shiver, not from cold but from the intensity of the sensation.
My own hands, which had been hanging uselessly at my sides, find their way to his chest. I can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart under my palm, its rhythm slightly elevated, matching the quickening of my own pulse.
Luca’s lips leave mine, but before I can mourn the loss, they’re trailing along my jawline, down the column of my throat. Each kiss is like a brand on my skin, hot and electric. A soft gasp escapes me as he finds a particularly sensitive spot just below my ear.
The sound seems to spur him on. His arms tighten around me, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the hardness of his body through the layers of our clothing, and it ignites something primal within me. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as if he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s suddenly spinning.
One of Luca’s hands threads through my hair, cradling the back of my head as he reclaims my lips. The kiss deepens, and I find myself responding with a passion I didn’t know I possessed. My lips part under his, and when our tongues meet, a jolt of pleasure shoots through me so intensely that my knees nearly buckle.
Luca seems to sense my unsteadiness. His arm around my waist tightens, supporting me as he walks us backward until my back meets the wall. The cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressed against me, and the dual sensation sends another shiver through me.
I’m lost in a haze of sensation. The taste of him on my tongue, the scent of his cologne filling my nostrils, the feel of his strong body against mine—it’s all-consuming. In this moment, I forget everything else. I forget who he is, who I am, the circumstances that brought us here. There is only this—only us and the fire building between us.
My hands move of their own accord, sliding up to tangle in his hair. The strands are soft between my fingers, and I use my grip to pull him even closer, deepening the kiss further. A low groan rumbles in Luca’s chest, the vibration of it traveling through my body and settling low in my belly, stoking the flames of desire.
When we finally part for air, I’m panting, my chest heaving against his. Luca’s forehead rests against mine, his breath warm on my face. I open my eyes to find him watching me, his gaze dark and intense. There’s heat there, yes, but also a question. A silent asking of permission to continue.
In this moment, balanced on the knife’s edge between fear and desire, I realize that I have a choice. Despite everything that’s led us here, despite the fact that this marriage was forced upon me, what happens next is up to me.
Luca is giving me the power to decide.
My body is humming with a need I’ve never felt before, every inch of me alive and yearning for his touch. But my mind is whirling, a mix of conflicting emotions that I can’t begin to untangle.
As I stand there, caught in Luca’s embrace, my heart pounding and my skin tingling, I know that whatever I decide next will change everything.
The question is, am I ready for that change?