34. Sofia
34
SOFIA
I ’ve searched every inch of this godforsaken room for some way out, but there’s nothing. No windows, no vents, no loose floorboards or hidden passages. Just four solid walls and a door that might as well be made of steel for all it does me.
Fuck.
Fear and frustration bubble up inside me, threatening to spill over into panic, but I push it down. I force myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest and the pounding of my heart.
I can’t let Luca see my weakness, can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how scared and helpless I feel. I may be trapped, but I’m not defeated. Not by a long shot.
I am Sofia Marino and Sofia Sicura. Daughter of one of the most feared Mafia Dons in the city and daughter-in-law to another. And I’ll be damned if I let some asshole like Luca see me cower, see me beg or plead for mercy or pity.
Fuck no. Never.
If anything, he should be the one fearing me , fearing the wrath and the vengeance that will rain down upon him when my family finds out what he’s done, when Dom tracks me down and makes him pay for all he’s done to me.
The thought of Dom sends a pang of longing through my heart, but I push it away. Now’s not the time to be distracted. I can’t let myself be weakened by emotion.
And so, when the door swings open and Luca strides in, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face, I don’t flinch. I don’t cower or shrink back against the wall.
I am not a damsel in distress. I am the hero. I am the wolf. I am the master of my own destiny.
I stand tall, my chin lifted and my eyes blazing with defiance. “What the fuck do you want, Luca?” I ask coldly. “Come to gloat some more? To spew more of your bullshit?”
But then my eyes fall on the garment bag slung over his arm, and I feel a flicker of unease stir in my gut. He unzips the bag with a flourish, revealing a wedding gown. A dress of pure white silk and delicate lace with a flowing skirt and a plunging neckline.
“This is yours,” Luca says, gesturing to the dress. “Put it on. I want to see you in it.”
My mouth falls open in shock and revulsion. “Fuck no,” I spit out, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I’m not putting on shit, you bastard. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m already married. I’m not your bride.”
Luca’s eyes flash with anger, his smile twisting into something cruel and ugly. “Oh, but you are, my darling. Just you wait. And you will be mine, one way or another.”
He lunges for me then, his hands grasping and clawing at my clothes as he tries to force the gown over my head. But I fight back with everything I have, kicking and scratching and biting like a feral cat.
Growing up with sisters does have its perks. One of them is learning how to fight dirty.
The fabric tears under my nails. I can hear the rips of seams and the pop of buttons as we struggle. But Luca is stronger than me, his grip like iron as he wrenches my arms above my head and forces the dress down over my body.
I scream, my voice raw and ragged with fury and desperation. “Get off me, you fucking psycho! I’ll kill you, I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you!”
But Luca just laughs, his breath hot against my face as he pins me to the wall with his body as he binds my hands together with rope. “Scream all you want, my darling. No one can hear you. No one is coming to save you.” He grabs my arm tightly and drags me out of the room, through the winding halls of his estate.
My feet stumble over the hem of this stupid wedding gown. It’s like I’m in a trance, a waking nightmare I can’t escape no matter how hard I try.
But then we turn a corner, and I see the chapel looming ahead of us. The altar is strewn with roses, and… and the pews …
The pews are filled with faceless mannequins dressed in suits and gowns.
Okay, now I’m officially in a nightmare. This is so fucked up. I want to scream, but I’m so frightened I can’t get any sound to come out of my throat.
Standing at the front, a Bible in his hands and a solemn expression on his face… is a priest. A photographer stands nearby, his face pale, eyes darting toward the faceless mannequins in silent horror.
The sight jolts me out of my daze. This can't be happening. Luca can’t be stupid enough to think he can force me to marry him. I’m already fucking married!
“You can’t do this!” I say, my voice shaking with desperation. “I’m already Dom’s wife. This isn’t legal! I’m not a fucking bigamist!”
But Luca just laughs, his grip on my arm tightening until I can feel the bruises forming beneath my skin. “Oh, I know that, Sofia. I have no desire to actually marry you. This is just for show.”
He leans in close, his lips nearly brushing the shell of my ear. “This is just a taste of the punishment that awaits him.”
Bile rises in my throat, hot and bitter and burning as I try to twist away from Luca. “What are you talking about? What punishment?”
He laughs, a cold and cruel laugh that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “Why, the ultimate punishment, of course. I thought about this long and hard, Sofia. Physical pain isn’t good enough. I need him to actually suffer . And then it came to me.”
He places a hand on my stomach, his fingers splaying possessively over the flat plane of my abdomen. “I’m going to get you pregnant, Sofia, and when Dom sees you swollen with my child, that’s when Dom will truly know the depths of his failure.”
I reel back in horror, my stomach clenching with revulsion. “No,” I whisper, my mouth drying as fear rises in me. “No, no, no . You’re fucked—you can’t—I won’t let you?—”
But Luca just laughs again, his hand tightening on my arm as he drags me down the aisle toward the waiting priest. I try to fight him, try to dig in my heels and wrench myself free from his grasp.
But it’s no use. He’s too strong, too determined to let me go.
As we reach the altar, I turn to the priest, my eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Father,” I beg, my voice cracking with desperation. “Please, you have to help me. You can’t let him do this. You can’t be a part of this madness!”
But the priest just looks away, his face a mask of shame and cowardice. And in that moment, I feel something inside me snap.
“How dare you,” I hiss, my voice shaking with fury and disgust. “How dare you stand there in your robes and your collar, pretending to be a man of God. You’re a mockery, a disgrace to everything that your faith is supposed to stand for!”
The priest flinches as if I’ve struck him, but he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, doesn’t try to stop the travesty that’s unfolding before him.
If I get out of this, I’m going to fucking hunt this priest down and kill him myself for allowing this farce to occur.
Luca snaps his fingers at the priest. “Begin.”
The priest startles and opens his Bible, his voice a hollow mockery of the sacred vows, one of the most special sacraments.
Luca turns to the photographer. “Get over here,” he barks, his voice sharp with command. “I want pictures of this moment.” He turns to me, a cruel, mocking smile twisting his lips. “I want to capture every second of my triumph over Dominico.”
The photographer scrambles to obey, his hands shaking as he raises his camera and begins to snap away. And suddenly, I find myself being pulled and posed like a mannequin in Luca’s sick, twisted fantasy.
He wraps his arms around me, his hands roaming over my body in a grotesque parody of affection. He presses his lips to my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, leaving a trail of slimy, repulsive kisses on my skin.
I want to throw up, want to step into the hottest shower imaginable and scrub my skin until I feel clean. But I don’t think I will ever be clean.
And all the while, the camera keeps flashing, keeps immortalizing this moment, this nightmare that I know will haunt me for the rest of my days.
But then Luca is turning me to face him, his eyes glinting with triumph. “And now, a kiss. To really drive the point home.”
He leans in, his lips parting and his eyes fluttering closed, his hand wrapped possessively around my waist. A scream erupts from my throat, a desperate, animalistic howl of revulsion and terror as I rear my head back to headbutt him straight in his nose.
I will not kiss him. I will not sully my marriage vows in such a way. I will die before I allow that to happen.
But before Luca’s mouth can touch mine, before my head makes contact with his nose, the chapel doors burst open with a bang that shakes the very foundations of the room.
And there, standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with a fury that steals the very breath from my lungs… is Dom.
I gasp, my heart seizing in my chest. He came. He found me, just like I always knew he would.
But then I see the look on his face, the raw, visceral rage that contorts his features into a mask of pure, unadulterated wrath. And I realize that this is not the Dom I know, not the man I fell in love with.
This is a Dom I’ve never seen before. And as I see Dom’s eyes take in the scene of me in a wedding dress with Luca’s hands splayed possessively over me, I can see this is a Dom who has been pushed beyond the bounds of sanity and restraint.
A Dom who is ready to burn the whole world down just to get to me.