HERE COMES THE BRIDE
I wake up alone in the bedroom. I stretch, feeling the ache in my limbs from everything we did yesterday.
A sharp pain tugs at my chest when I see a single note beside me. I know Dante left because I need some privacy, but I can’t help feeling clingy.
“See you at the wedding, ragnetta. Remember, your father will send people to get you. Don’t be scared and take your time.
—Your future husband.”
I smile. Today’s the big day. Tomorrow, I’ll be his wife, and I’ll never have to worry about the past again.
I take a quick shower and slip into the dress Dante left on the armchair, since he ripped the one I wore yesterday. When I go downstairs, my father’s men are waiting by the door. I tense up but follow them anyway.
A few minutes later, I’m back in the place I hate. I’m only doing this for Mum. We’ve been out three times since I left, just for a few minutes while arranging the wedding and finding my dress.
My father greets me with a wide smile, but I don’t pay him any attention, nor do I say hello. I head straight to my room and find my mum, her eyes red and swollen.
“Are you okay, Mum?”
My voice makes her face drops, as though she might crumble at any moment. She opens her mouth to speak but shakes her head instead.
“Yes, pet, I’m okay. Come here.”
She hugs me so tightly I want to cry.
I’ll be away for three months, with no possibility of calling her, but I’ll get her out of here as soon as we’re back. Dante promised me.
“I love you, Mum.”
She smiles and kisses the top of my head.
“I love you too, mo chroí. Never forget that.”
When I get out of the bathroom, Mum is biting her nails, staring out the window.
“I think they got the wrong dress.”
Mine had sleeves; it covered most of my body. This one has an open back, a deep neckline that pushes up my breasts, and a slit along one leg. It even shows the hickeys and bruises Dante left yesterday. The stylist had to cover every one of them.
Mum looks at me, her eyes full of tears. “I know. I tried to fix it, but they—I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
I sigh. It doesn’t matter. The dress is beautiful, just too revealing for me.
It turns out, it’s not just the dress I didn’t choose. The bouquet is pink and doesn’t have the lilies I asked for. I won’t say a word to Mum because she tried her best, and, well, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that I’m marrying Dante.
Once I’m finally ready, Mum holds my face. Her eyes water again, and she’s about to say something when my father comes in and says, “It’s time to go, girls.”
She keeps staring at me, her eyes shimmering with emotion. She looks beautiful. We’ve been here for what feels like hours, getting our makeup and hair done, but something about her expression unsettles me.
If my father had done something to her, she would have told us, right?
“It’s going to be late,” she finally says. “Let’s go.”
The car stops in front of the church. My stomach twists, and tears threaten to spill—just nerves. Dante will be waiting for me. We just have to do this, and then it’s done. So why does it feel so impossible in my head?
I step out of the car. The church doors are closed, and only my father stands outside. Mum arrived earlier to be seated inside. I would have preferred her to walk me down the aisle, but my father insisted that traditions were important.
Reluctantly, I take his hand.
“You look beautiful, püppchen .”
My stomach churns. After the wedding, I won’t see him again. Tomorrow, I’ll have my own life, I’ll be with the man I love—the man who has taken better care of me in three months than anyone ever has in my entire life. Tomorrow, he’ll be—
“Listen to me, gorgeous,” my father says, patting my hand as we walk toward the doors. “We have men ready to shoot. Behind your mother will be a guy with a gun pointed right at her heart, so you’ll be a good girl and marry that man inside, or there will be blood on your hands.”
“You don’t need to threaten me.”
He smiles. “Oh, I think I do.”
The doors open. I look down at my feet, trying not to be overwhelmed by the guests.
I’m about to marry the man I love—the one who would give me everything if I asked him to. What else could I ask for? I’ll spend the rest of my life with him. He’ll make me happy.
Dante will be mine, and I will be his. Forever.
I look up, searching for him, my heart pounding with excitement, but it plummets when I don’t find him at the altar.
In his place, there’s an older man. Almost blond, but not quite. His face is sharp yet soft, clean-shaven, with slicked-back hair. His eyes are a shade of green darker than mine.
Where’s Dante? I was hoping to see him, not this man. I don’t even know who he is.
My father delivers me, and after kissing my cheek, he whispers, “I warned you. Though you did perfectly, püppchen . Dante prepared you well.”
I want to throw up.
He prepared me? He wasn’t going to marry me?
I fell in love with a lie?
No. This can’t be.
The man in front of me takes my hand.
I need to find Dante. I need to get out of—
My mum stares at me, panic etched on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as my father holds her hand with a triumphant smile.
I look to the guests, desperately searching for my real fiancé, but he’s nowhere to be found.
The man’s grip tightens on my hand, and I’m forced to focus on him. His gaze sends a shiver down my spine.
“You look gorgeous, Lana.”
His Russian accent isn’t too thick, but where the hell is my Italian?
Help. I need help.
The priest speaks, but everything feels like it’s in slow motion—or maybe the ceremony is just dragging on forever.
I need to call Dante. I need to charge my phone. I need him to find me. He’ll rescue me again. He’ll get me out of this.
I say “I do” without even realizing it.
I don’t want to beg anymore, but here I am, begging for someone to do something. Dante can’t leave me like this.
Please, Dante, you promised.
The man presses his lips against mine. They feel disgusting. They don’t belong anywhere near my body.
My father must be lying. I opened my heart for you. I trusted you. My mum told me I should do it. Please, Dante.
He drags me to a white car while everyone chants around us.
This is where everything ends.
I’ve found myself these past few weeks, and now I’ll have to bury that part of me again.
I look around, desperately searching for his face, but I don’t see anything. Only strangers.
“There’s been a m-m-mistake,” I whisper as the chauffeur starts driving.
My new husband doesn’t speak for several blocks. I’m painfully aware of the cleavage in my dress and how tight it feels, especially under his lingering gaze. He’s staring at my breasts, even as I try to cover them.
I want to take this off. I want to run. I want Dante.
I need him.
Please, wake me up. This has to be a nightmare.
His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing hard enough that I can’t breathe. He pins me to the window, and pain shoots through my spine.
“Listen to me, because I’ll only say it once,” he growls.
“You are mine. I don’t care what you think happened.
You are my fucking wife. We’re going to that party, and you’re going to act like my happy and beautiful wife.
And if you don’t piss me off for the rest of the evening, I promise I’ll be careful on our honeymoon, püppchen .
Or else, I’ll fuck your brains out, using your own blood as lube. ”
He releases me, and I gasp for air.
The chauffeur smiles.
I have to find Dante.