11. Lena
Lena
The ceremony took place in secret. Only the legal part. At City Hall, in front of a civil clerk, we both said “ I do ” with our friends Gabriel and Lexi standing beside us.
Damien was there too, of course. Those three are practically inseparable. And Alice, the Monti family's image handler and chief secret-keeper, was with us, snapping dozens of pictures she’ll soon feed to Dominic’s loyal media outlets.
Dominic kept his promise. He arranged our civil marriage quickly and efficiently, like he said he would.
We didn’t tell our parents, and we didn’t invite them.
We’ll make it up to them by planning a big, fancy wedding a few months from now.
One where they’ll get to weigh in on every little detail, our moms, mostly.
And probably a few of my aunts and cousins, too.
But what’s been bugging me is that my ridiculously hot husband and I still haven’t kissed. Not once.
“He’s totally going to do it tonight,” Lexi says, fussing with my hair.
“Right in front of everyone. Classic move—to shut down the rumors and crush the last desperate hopes of women still fantasizing about his sexy mouth… and about one day getting a ring from him. I’m here to help you shine tonight. Now hold still.”
She might have a point. And yes, I need the help, because even if our little legal ceremony was top secret, being Dominic Monti’s wife isn’t exactly a low-profile gig. That was never part of the deal.
So tonight, Dominic’s throwing an all-out, champagne-fountains kind of party. And I’m expected to look like I belong on his arm.
A few hundred guests, most of whom I’ve never met, will be here to be introduced to his wife. He called it an engagement party, but let’s be real: I might as well be jumping out of a cake with a shiny wedding ring on my finger. Game over for any woman still hoping she had a shot.
The tabloids will scream, gossip shows will explode, and paparazzi will battle for a single photo of us. The game has officially been reset. It’ll die down soon enough , Dominic tried to reassure me. But I’m still not at peace with how exposed this whole marriage arrangement is making me feel.
“Are you sure this dress isn’t too plain?” I ask Lexi, glancing at my reflection again.
She smiles, prosecco in hand. “That’s exactly why it’s perfect. Do you know how many women are going to show up, drowning in sequins and sparkle? You’ll look like you stepped out of a different kind of movie. The timeless kind.”
I run my fingers over the black silk. It’s light as air, I can barely feel it on my skin, except when it whispers as I move.
The cut skims my body without clinging, falling all the way to the floor.
The back dips low, almost to my waist, crossed with delicate, barely-there straps.
Nothing flashy. Just clean, fluid, and molded to me like a second skin.
It doesn’t sparkle. It doesn’t need to. I feel like I could walk into any room and own it.
Dominic called in a few favors from local designers, and the dress arrived this morning.
“I like the way it falls,” I say, turning to the side. “Makes me look... taller, right?”
“You don’t need height. You already look like a goddess. Dark-haired, sculpted. And now, in this dress? You look dangerously calm. The kind of woman who makes the whole room take a breath.”
Lexi gives me courage. And honestly, from where I’m standing.
.. I actually look pretty damn good. I glance down at the only piece of jewelry I’m wearing: a pendant.
A white oval stone, set simply in fine gold.
Dominic left it on the bed in a box, with a note that said: “For the new Mrs. Monti. You wear the name beautifully.”
No special moment. No explanation. The box, and that line in his handwriting. I touch my neck lightly. It already feels familiar. Beautiful, yes. Thoughtful, even. But still... I wish he’d been there when I opened it.
On my ring finger, the wedding band glints quietly beside the round and perfect diamond engagement ring.
I picked it from a catalog. He just said it should be visible enough.
It arrived one evening in a dark velvet box.
He handed it to me without ceremony, almost hesitant: “Do you like it?” I nodded. That was all I managed.
I got a little lost in that moment. The ring was stunning, delicate, but impossible to ignore.
And it wasn’t just a piece of jewelry. It was a wedding ring.
A real one. It made everything feel... suddenly real.
Permanent. For a moment, Dominic stood there.
Watching me. Waiting for… something. A reaction, maybe.
And then it was gone. He turned, said nothing else, and left for the club.
“I really like it,” I say softly, more to myself than to Lexi.
“Why wouldn’t you?” she asks gently.
“It’s beautiful... but there was nothing romantic about it.”
I swallow hard and remind myself, almost instinctively, this isn’t about love.
It’s an arrangement. And he’s doing everything right.
Always too right. I have the funding for the shelter.
His protection and resources. That’s what matters.
That’s supposed to be enough. I grab my perfume—iris and vetiver.
Dabbed at the neck. Wrists. Behind the ears.
Lexi stands and flashes a proud smile. “You’re ready. And you look like the woman behind an empire.”
“No. I look like a woman who knows what she’s doing. And does what she has to.” I say, clearly, like I need to hear it out loud.
Then I turn toward the door. Showtime, Lena.
***
The hallway outside the elevator glows warm and golden, casting soft light across the polished floor.
My heart pounds, fast and loud, like it’s trying to get ahead of me.
I stop in front of the tall, dark wooden double doors.
From inside, I can hear music. Voices. Laughter.
The sound of a party already in full swing.
Lexi leans in and whispers something that sounds like courage.
Then she squeezes my hand. I nod, take a breath, and step inside.
The hotel ballroom is stunning. Vaulted ceilings.
Massive chandeliers that scatter light like stardust. Round tables draped in ivory linens, each topped with subtle, elegant floral arrangements.
There must be hundreds of people here, silhouettes in tailored suits and silk gowns, clinking glasses, expensive perfumes trailing through the air like memory.
I glance back, but Lexi’s already slipped into the crowd, heading toward Gabriel.
For a second, I hesitate, my stomach tightening with something between nerves and anticipation.
I’ve imagined this entrance. Rehearsed it in my mind with calm.
But none of that matters anymore. Now that I’m here, the only thought that pushes through my head is: how will he look at me tonight?
I spot Dominic near the stage, where a live band is playing. He left the apartment hours ago so I could get ready, and I haven’t seen him since. I didn’t know what he’d wear tonight, but I should’ve known he’d be the very definition of elegance in a setting like this.
And of course, he is.
He stands near the stage, looking like something out of a painting, timeless, both classic and modern at once.
Tall, his shoulders are relaxed but squared, his profile sharp, yet somehow warm.
The slight scruff along his jaw accentuates its line.
His tan skin glows under the ballroom lights, and his eyes, those deep blue eyes, sweep the crowd like he’s searching for something.
Dominic wears a black tux, perfectly tailored.
Satin lapels catch the light when he moves.
A crisp white shirt. Fine black studs. A hand-tied bow tie, obviously, he’s not the kind of man who buys anything pre-made.
His trousers fit flawlessly on his hips, and his polished black leather shoes look sculpted.
He’s striking in that understated way that doesn’t ask for attention, but still gets it. Like the whole room answers to him.
I catch myself thinking he’s the most elegant man here.
Not because of what he’s wearing, but because of how he wears it.
Like he‘s not trying to impress anyone. Like he already knows exactly who he is. And somehow, that stirs something in me. That man, standing there like confidence wrapped in elegance—he’s mine. My husband.
His eyes find mine after what feels like forever.
When they do, the rest of the room fades.
That blue settles on me like I’m the only one here.
His expression shifts—warmer now, more focused—and something inside me pulls tight.
Then he starts walking toward me. No rush.
A quiet, magnetic certainty like nothing in the world could stop him.
There are hundreds of faces around us, hundreds of eyes on me, but the only gaze I feel is his.
He reaches me. Says nothing. Slides an arm around my waist like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like I’m his. Fully, undoubtedly his. The silk of my dress shivers beneath his touch.
“You’re not from this world,” he whispers, just for me. “And from today on, you’re mine.”
I have no idea if anyone else hears him. But he’s playing his part perfectly. And in this moment, I feel damn special.
Together, we move through the crowd. People sense our presence, and the room subtly parts for us, forming a quiet corridor.
I catch smiles, curious glances, and whispers hidden behind champagne glasses.
I barely notice them. It feels like I’m floating through a dream, and the only real, solid thing grounding me is Dominic’s warm hand at my waist.
When we reach the center of the room, Dominic gives a discreet nod for the mic. The music fades, the voices fall silent. He looks at me like I already belong to him, and everyone here should know it. There’s pride there. Possession. Heat. Then he turns to the crowd.