17. Emily
17
EMILY
H e stops in front of a heavy, wooden door and pushes it open. The room inside is dimly lit, the warm glow from the overhead chandelier casting long shadows across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of leather and polished wood.
As I step inside, my breath catches in my throat. There are people waiting for us—three men, all dressed in sharp, tailored suits, standing near a small table draped in white cloth. The table is set with a few official-looking documents, a pen, and a simple box that I can’t quite make out from where I’m standing.
My heart sinks as the realization of what’s about to happen hits me. This isn’t just another room. This is where it’s going to happen. The wedding. My forced wedding.
The man standing closest to the table steps forward. He’s tall, with graying hair slicked back and sharp, hawk-like features that give him a predatory look.
His suit is immaculate, but there’s something in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. This isn’t just any officiant— this is a man who’s seen and done things most people couldn’t imagine.
He’s a part of Lucas’s world, the dark underbelly of power and control that I’ve only glimpsed until now.
“Emily Davis,” the man says, his voice smooth and calculated, as if he’s reciting a well-practiced script. “My name is Albert Moretti. I’ll be officiating your marriage to Mr. Caprione today.”
Marriage. The word feels heavy, almost surreal. I’ve dreamed of getting married one day, but never like this. Never in a room filled with shadows and strangers, to a man who’s coerced me into it. I feel a lump form in my throat, but I swallow it down, trying to keep myself together.
Before I can react, I hear a familiar voice behind me. “Emily?”
I turn quickly and see Mia standing in the corner of the room, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She looks pale, almost as if she’s been kept here against her will.
She rushes over to me, grabbing my hands and searching my face for answers. “Why are you doing this? What’s going on? Why did they bring us here?”
My heart breaks at the sight of her, so scared and helpless. I want to tell her everything, to explain why I have no choice, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. I just shake my head, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I have to do this,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “But don’t ask me why. Please, Mia, just… trust me.”
Mia’s grip tightens on my hands, her eyes filling with tears. “Emily, you don’t have to do this. We can leave. This is insane. Let’s go.”
“I can’t,” I say, the words heavy with resignation. “It’s too late.”
The air in the room is suffocating, thick with tension and an undercurrent of something darker—an inevitability I can’t escape. I feel Mia’s hand tighten around mine, her grip the only thing keeping me from spiraling. Her eyes are wide and desperate, silently pleading with me to do something, to fight back.
Before I can think of a way out, before I can even open my mouth to speak, Lucas steps forward, his presence suddenly filling the room like a dark cloud blocking out the sun.
“It’s time,” he says, his voice a low, commanding rumble that leaves no room for argument. He doesn’t bother to look at Mia; his eyes are locked on me, hard and unyielding.
With a swift, almost casual motion, he reaches out and pulls me away from her, his hand firm on my arm as he guides me forward, positioning me directly in front of Albert.
I stumble slightly, my heels catching on the ornate rug beneath us, but Lucas’s grip is like iron, keeping me upright. My heart is pounding in my chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that drowns out everything else.
I steal a glance at Mia, and the look in her eyes breaks something inside me.
She’s scared, more scared than I’ve ever seen her, but she’s still hoping—still thinking there’s a chance for me to resist. But I know better. I know there’s no way out of this. Not now.
Albert stands before us, his expression as cold and emotionless as the rest of the men in the room. His dark suit is immaculate, his posture rigid and formal, like he’s done this a thousand times before and feels nothing for the lives he’s binding together.
He begins to speak, his voice a monotonous drone that’s almost lost in the fog of my own thoughts. I catch bits and pieces—phrases like “lawful wedded wife” and “until death do you part”—but it all blurs together, a meaningless string of words that doesn’t seem real.
Lucas’s grip tightens slightly, and I realize he’s holding my hand now, his fingers lacing through mine in a way that would seem intimate if it wasn’t for the suffocating force behind it.
His skin is warm against mine, but it sends a chill through me, a stark contrast to the cold sweat breaking out along my spine.
“Repeat after me,” Albert says, his eyes flicking between us as he goes through the motions. Lucas’s voice cuts through the air, steady and confident, as if he’s reciting lines in a play rather than making a lifelong commitment.
He speaks each word with ease, his tone measured and controlled, as if this is just another business transaction for him.
When it’s my turn, I can barely speak. My throat feels tight, and my lips are dry. I force myself to look straight ahead, my gaze fixed on a spot just above Albert’s shoulder, trying to focus on anything but the reality of this moment.
I can feel Lucas’s eyes on me, feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me, demanding compliance.
“Say it,” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low enough that only I can hear. There’s no anger there, no impatience—just an expectation that I’ll obey.
I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and somehow manage to find my voice. It comes out small and fragile, like it might break at any moment. “I… do,” I whisper, the words feeling like chains locking into place around my soul.
Albert nods, satisfied, and reaches for the ring. Lucas takes it without hesitation, his hand steady as he slides the band onto my finger. I feel a shudder run through me at the cold touch of the metal, a tangible, heavy reminder of the weight I now carry. It feels too tight, like it’s cutting off my circulation, but I don’t dare pull away.
Lucas doesn’t wait for any further prompting. He leans in to kiss me, his lips claiming mine in a way that feels more like a statement than an expression of affection. There’s a possessiveness to it, a raw hunger that sends a tremor through my body.
I can taste the dominance in his kiss, the way his lips move over mine with a demand that leaves no room for resistance. It’s not soft, not gentle; it’s a declaration, a mark of ownership that makes my stomach twist in knots.
I want to recoil, to push him away, but I know better. Instead, I force myself to endure it, to remain still, my hands balled into fists at my sides. When he finally pulls back, there’s a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, a triumphant gleam that sends a chill down my spine.
Albert clears his throat, breaking the silence, and signs the documents laid out on the small table beside him. His pen scratches against the paper, each stroke echoing in the quiet room like a final nail in a coffin.
He steps back with a nod, his role complete, and the other men in the room follow suit, their expressions blank and impassive. To them, this is just another day, another deal sealed, another life changed without a second thought.
Mia steps forward, her face pale but determined. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she says, her voice trembling but filled with a fierce kind of bravery. She’s looking at me, not Lucas, and I can see the desperate hope in her eyes. “We can leave. Right now. Just say the word.”
Lucas’s eyes narrow, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, but he remains silent, watching me with that same dark, unreadable gaze.
I shake my head, feeling the weight of the ring on my finger like a shackle. “It’s done, Mia,” I say softly. “There’s no going back.” I want to tell her I did it to save her life. I say nothing.
She looks at me like she wants to argue, but then her shoulders slump, and she nods, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and the words feel like a knife to the gut.
Lucas’s hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer to his side, his grip possessive and firm. “We’re done here,” he says, his tone final, leaving no room for further discussion. He looks down at me, his expression softening just slightly. “Welcome to the family,” he murmurs, and I feel the words sink into my skin like ice.