CHAPTER THREE
MARIA
“This dress is suffocating me,” I murmured for the umpteenth time that day.
Or maybe it wasn’t the dress. Maybe it was the fact that in less than an hour, I was walking down the aisle to marry a man who wasn’t the father of my baby. A man who I had crushed on for as long as I could remember, a man who had left five years ago with no words, a man who had not returned my call or any of my messages or attempted to reach out for five years.
A man who kissed me last week and melted all the resentment I had toward him. A man I care too much about to hurt or lie to.
I pressed a hand against my stomach, swallowing the lump in my throat. No one knew. Not my uncle Enrico. Not even Luca. And definitely not Lorenzo.
This was a disaster. A beautifully arranged disaster wrapped in lace and satin.
The bedroom door creaked open, and I turned to find Isabella standing there, elegant as always. Despite everything, we have not had time due to the short notice of the marriage to talk about old days and catch up, but she had received me with so much grace and warmth as always. Despite the weight loss and the paleness in her cheeks, she was still Isabella Bianchi—regal, poised, and impossibly kind.
“You look breathtaking, Maria. Your mother would have bawled her eyes out if she saw you today,” she said, stepping forward.
A lump formed in my throat.
I had known this woman since I was a child. She was my mum’s best friend, and when my mum died in that accident about a decade ago, I witnessed how much it broke her. She had held my hand when I scraped my knee, made me hot cocoa in the winter, and scolded me when I tried to follow Luca and Lorenzo into trouble. She had always been the soft voice of reason in the middle of our shenanigans growing up.
And here she was, smiling at me like she wasn’t dying.
Like she wasn’t giving me her son.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. If she knew the truth, she’d hate me.
She reached for something around her neck, unclasping it with careful fingers before holding it out to me.
“I wore this on my wedding day,” she said, placing the delicate platinum necklace in my palm. “And my mother before me. I want you to have it.”
I stared at it, feeling my throat tighten. “Isabella, I—”
She placed it around my neck and squeezed my hand before I could argue. “It brings good fortune. And more than that, it’s a reminder that love, real love, is worth every risk.”
Guilt clawed at my insides. I was marrying her son under false pretenses. I was standing here, dressed in white, while another man’s baby grew inside me. I didn’t deserve this necklace. I didn’t deserve her kindness.
She cupped my cheek gently. “I am so happy, Maria. Happier than I have been in a long time. My son is getting married to a good woman, a woman I know and can call my daughter,”
If she only knew.
The door creaked open again, and suddenly, there he was.
Lorenzo.
Tall, dark, and impossibly composed—like a storm that had decided to wear a three-piece suit.
The atmosphere shifted the second he stepped inside. Even without looking directly at him, I felt him—his presence, the quiet authority in the way he moved, and the way the room seemed to shrink to just the two of us.
His mother turned, feigning exasperation. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”
Lorenzo’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile but more of a shadow of one. “I don’t believe in luck.”
Of course, he didn’t.
Isabella sighed, patted my cheek one last time, and then turned to leave. “I’ll see you both at the altar.”
And then it was just us. The room felt smaller, warmer, and more dangerous.
Lorenzo’s sharp blue-gray eyes flicked over me, slow and assessing. He didn’t rush it and didn’t look away when he reached my face.
“Are you ready?” His voice was smooth and deep, carrying that undercurrent of control he always had.
No, I wasn’t.
I forced a smile, lifting my chin. “Of course, I am ready.”
He didn’t move and didn’t blink. He just watched me with that unreadable expression that always made my skin prickle.
God, he looked good.
Too good.
His dark hair was neatly styled, though I knew he had a habit of running his fingers through it when he was annoyed or thinking too hard. The sharp angles of his face were impossibly perfect—a chiseled jawline, a slightly crooked nose from a fight years ago, and piercing blue-gray eyes that could strip a person bare with a single look, just like they were doing now.
And then, there was his suit. Black, tailored, fitting him like a second skin.
He was the personification of danger in luxury. I needed to break the tension and make this feel normal.
“I never thought I’d be marrying you for my first marriage,” I said dryly, arms crossed.
His brow arched slightly. “Your first marriage?”
Shit.
I waved a hand, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah. This is temporary, remember? One year, and then we divorce, you get to keep your empire, and I go back to my life.”
Something flickered across his face, so brief I almost missed it. But I didn’t.
A muscle in his jaw tightened. His gaze shifted, dropping briefly to the necklace at my throat.
He recognized it. He knew exactly where it had come from.
I swallowed, fingers brushing over the delicate silver chain. “Your mother gave it to me.”
His expression remained carefully neutral, but I saw it: the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers flexed at his sides before he slid them into his pockets.
“She gets a little…sentimental.”
I scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”
“She’s just excited.”
“She said it was hers.”
His eyes flickered.
“She said she wore it at her own wedding.”
A slow exhale. “She’s always been dramatic,” he responded.
That wasn’t an answer. I studied him, noting the way he tried to brush it off and make it seem like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. It meant something. To him. To his mother.
Maybe even to me.
His gaze softened slightly, and his expression changed. “You look beautiful.”
The words landed like a soft blow to my ribs.
I blinked.
Lorenzo wasn’t the type to say things just for the sake of it. He wasn’t the kind of man to throw compliments around. And yet, here he was, telling me I was beautiful.
A warmth spread through my chest, dangerous and unwelcome. I swallowed, shifting on my feet. “Thanks.”
His lips parted slightly like he was about to say something, but then he hesitated.
Then—
“I should’ve been here.”
I stiffened. His voice was quieter now, becoming heavier beneath it. It was a weight I didn’t know if I could bear.
“I should’ve been here years—”
“It’s nothing.” I cut him off too quickly—maybe too sharply.
Because I couldn’t do this.
Not now. Not when guilt was already clawing at my insides.
His jaw ticked. He wasn’t convinced. I forced another smile, lighter this time. “What, you thought I couldn’t handle myself without you?”
He smirked faintly, but his eyes stayed serious. “I know you can.”
Then he stepped back toward the door, hand resting on the frame.
Something in me clenched. He was leaving. This was the last time we’d see each other before standing at the altar, sealing this deal in front of everyone and pretending to be something we weren’t.
But then, his eyes met mine again, steady, unwavering.
“Fake or not,” he murmured, “I’ve always cared about you.”
The breath I had been holding left my lungs all at once. His gaze lingered a second longer like he was making sure I understood.
“See you at the altar, wife.”
And just like that, he was gone. Leaving me alone with a storm raging inside me.
*****
Five more minutes.
That’s what Luca had said. Five minutes, and then he’d be back to walk me down the aisle.
Or, as he so helpfully suggested, I could walk myself since it was a fake marriage anyway.
I twisted my fingers together, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The dress was perfect. It was white silk draped over my frame like it had been made for me.
I looked every bit the bride.
I wasn’t one.
“Cold feet?” Luca leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his suit. He looked bored and impatient. “Not the time, Maria. You’re about to inherit a fortune. Get a grip.”
My stomach churned. Of course, that was all he cared about.
“I’m serious,” I muttered. “This feels wrong.”
He scoffed. “It’s a contract, not a love story.”
Maybe to him and to everyone else. But to me?
It was the biggest mistake of my life.
He pushed off the frame, dusting imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Pull yourself together. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
The door shut behind him, and silence filled the room.
My chest tightened. Five minutes, and then I’d walk down that aisle, say vows I didn’t mean, and kiss a man who had no idea I was carrying another man’s child. I had the child of a notorious kingpin growing inside of me, and if anyone found out, it would put the life of my child in danger. What kind of world would I be bringing a child into with a target already on his back because of who his father is?
Could I keep this child’s paternity hidden while being married to Lorenzo?
I couldn’t do this.
My breath came too fast, too sharp. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs.
This wasn’t just cold feet. This was something else entirely. This was panic.
I tore the veil from my hair. It snagged on my earrings, yanking painfully, but I didn’t care. My heels clicked against the marble as I moved fast, grabbing my purse and shoving my phone inside.
I needed to leave.
I wasn’t even sure where I was going, but I knew one thing—staying wasn’t an option.
My fingers fumbled as I yanked open the door. The hallway was empty. Good.
I moved quickly, my dress billowing behind me. I ran down the grand staircase, through the side entrance, and outside. The summer air hit my skin, thick and warm. The world was still moving—birds chirping, the faint sound of traffic in the distance, but my own world was falling apart.
I got in the car, hands shaking as I gripped the wheel. My phone buzzed in my purse. Luca, probably. Or Lorenzo.
I ignored it. Instead, I took a deep breath, turned the key, and floored it.
The estate disappeared behind me in the rearview mirror, and just like that, I was gone. My hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears.
I had done it.
I had run.
Like a coward. Like a woman who couldn’t face the consequences of her own actions.
My phone buzzed again and again and again.
I swallowed, forcing my eyes on the road.
They’d be furious. Luca would be livid that I just threw away the inheritance he wanted so badly.
Lorenzo…I didn’t know.
He wasn’t in love with me. This was an arrangement and a formality. So why did my stomach twist at the thought of him waiting at the altar?
I pulled into a gas station parking lot, shifting into park. My hands were still shaking. My heart was still racing.
I dug my phone out of my purse, my finger hovering over the screen.
There were missed calls. Messages.
Luca: Where the hell are you? Luca: Tell me this is a joke. Luca: Maria, get back here NOW.
Then, Lorenzo.
Maria.
Just my name, no anger or demands. That made it worse.
I swallowed hard and opened a new message.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Please forgive me.
I hesitated, and then I added,
Tell your mother I’m sorry, too.
I hit send. Then, for good measure, I turned off my phone. I couldn’t risk them tracking me. I couldn’t risk hearing their voices.
Not yet.
I leaned back in the seat, staring at the ceiling. This was the right thing to do.
I knew that.
Lorenzo deserved better than a lie. He deserved better than a wife who was carrying another man’s child.
And my baby…I pressed a hand to my stomach, inhaling shakily. My baby deserved a mother who wasn’t trapped in a marriage built on secrets and lies.
I had to put us first, even if it meant breaking everything or everyone apart.