Chapter 17
Tiziano Constanzo
The Council was unbearable. They complained, muttered, tried to question every decision I made as if they had any right to interfere in my life.
I downed another glass of whiskey, the liquid burning my throat as my patience wore thinner.
It was my wedding day, and the last thing I needed was those idiots busting my balls.
“She’s healthy and fertile,” I said without even bothering to answer exactly what they were questioning.
“But inappropriate,” one of them muttered, daring to challenge me.
I raised my eyes, fixing my gaze on him.
“What’s inappropriate is an old man sitting at my table thinking he has the right to give an opinion about something that’s none of his business. I’ve made my choice. Anyone who doesn’t like it knows where the door is.”
None of them dared continue. I finished my whiskey, setting the glass on the table with a loud, deliberate sound before standing.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. My uncle’s message said they were arriving. I adjusted my jacket as I walked toward the altar.
The ballroom was perfect. The guests were a meticulous combination of businessmen, politicians, mafia allies, and prominent members of high society. It wasn’t just a wedding. It was a spectacle.
When the music began, every gaze turned toward the entrance. I took my place at the altar, my body relaxed but alert. And then, there she was.
Bianca.
The dress I had commissioned for her was flawless. A luxurious white gown embroidered with crystals that sparkled beneath the lights. It outlined her figure perfectly without being vulgar, but it was impossible not to notice how uncomfortable she looked.
She hesitated on the first step, but quickly continued, walking down the red carpet with wide eyes, the bouquet trembling slightly in her hands.
And that was when I saw it. The fear. That raw fear written across every feature of her face.
“People fear me, Bianca. It’s my name that makes the world tremble. And now you carry that weight. So learn to bear it, or it will crush you.”
My mouth curved into a faint smile as she approached. The dress, the jewelry, her perfectly styled hair. Everything about her screamed beauty and elegance. But her eyes, ah, her eyes told an entirely different story.
She stopped in front of me, breathing quickly. Her fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly I thought the flowers might disintegrate right there.
“Are you afraid?” I asked, my voice low enough that only she could hear.
She looked at me briefly, as though trying to find strength, but quickly lowered her gaze.
“No,” she answered weakly, almost in a whisper.
I gave a short, dry laugh.
“You’re a terrible liar. But that’s all right. Fear is a useful emotion. It keeps you alive and obedient.”
She didn’t answer, and I kept my gaze fixed on her while the judge began the ceremony. His words were a blur to me. They didn’t matter. What mattered was that when it ended, she would be mine.
When my turn came, I spoke firmly:
“I do.”
I lifted her veil with an abrupt motion, keeping my eyes locked on hers. She looked confused, tense, but this time she didn’t look away. I cupped her face with one hand, my thumb brushing lightly over her cheek before I pulled her into a kiss.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was a claim.
When I pulled away, her face was flushed, and her eyes gleamed. I leaned in, whispering in her ear:
“Welcome to hell, Bianca. I’ll be your personal devil.”
Applause echoed around us, but I didn’t hear it.
My attention was on her. She made me hard, and that was good.
The idea of being the first to possess her, of exploring that virgin pink pussy that now belonged to me, made my blood boil.
And I was dying to discover every one of her reactions as she learned what it meant to be mine.
We stepped down, and I started talking to the guests when I saw Ant?nio downing one shot after another, the glass trembling slightly in his hand. I approached slowly, watching him nearly jump when he heard my voice.
“Something wrong, Father-in-law?”
“Don? No, everything is fine,” he answered far too quickly, avoiding my eyes as he swallowed another shot.
I tilted my head, studying him carefully.
“Are you sure?” I asked, pressing him.
Ant?nio hesitated, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead, visibly uncomfortable.
“I just… I never imagined Bianca would live here, right here. It’s such an irony of fate.”
My expression hardened. I didn’t like his tone or his choice of words.
“What’s ironic, Father-in-law?” I asked, curious.
He shifted nervously, avoiding my gaze.
“Take good care of her, Don. Protect her. She deserves to be happy,” he said hastily before walking away, nearly stumbling as he went.
I narrowed my eyes, watching him for a moment, undecided whether to follow him or let him go. But before I could decide, I heard muffled laughter and murmurs from a nearby group.
I approached silently, and they didn’t notice my presence until it was already too late.
“Bianca Constanzo?” one of them hissed as though the name itself were an insult. “Please. She’s beautiful, but she’s nowhere near his level. Look at that dress. Of course he bought it, because it’s obvious she has neither the taste nor the money for something like that.”
Another woman laughed, covering her mouth as though sharing a secret.
“Did you see the way she looks at him? Like a frightened little puppy. This is going to be entertaining to watch. How long do you think she’ll last?”
I stepped forward, and the sound of my shoe against the floor made all three of them turn abruptly. Their smiles vanished instantly.
“Entertaining to watch?” I asked with a cold smile. “Maybe it’ll be even more entertaining for me to see how you react when I decide you’ve said too much.”
The women went pale, stumbling over their words as they tried to explain themselves.
“Don Constanzo, that wasn’t our intention…”
“It wasn’t?” I interrupted, tilting my head. “Because it sounded very intentional.”
They lowered their heads, murmuring apologies, and I ignored them completely as I turned to look for Bianca.
She was standing in a corner of the ballroom, visibly uncomfortable with everything around her.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her by the arm.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her eyes widening as she looked at me.
“On our honeymoon. Where else would we be going?” I replied dryly.
I took her hand, guiding her through the ballroom while every gaze followed us. But I didn’t care.
“Don’t be so nervous, Bianca.”