I turned from the window and began unzipping the ruined wedding dress, letting it fall to the floor like a shed skin. Tomorrow I'd put on a new one. Tomorrow I'd walk down another aisle and bind myself to a monster.
But tonight, I was still Sienna Moretti.
And I would never truly be his.
CHAPTER 3
Luca
The scent of ancient wood and lingering incense hung heavy in the chapel air as Father Salvatore arranged his worn prayer book on the small altar. Shadows from flickering candles danced across stone walls that had witnessed generations of Romano marriages—most of them just as calculating as this one.
But none quite like this.
I straightened my onyx cufflinks, the weight of my family ring pressing against my finger like a promise. Or a warning.
The Romano family chapel hadn't been used for a wedding since my cousin's union five years ago. That one had ended with her husband in a shallow grave after he'd been caught skimming money. Not the most promising precedent.
Outside, rain had started to fall, drops tapping against stained glass windows like impatient fingers. The storm had rolled in suddenly, matching my mood—dark, electric, unpredictable.
My second-in-command, Marco, stood silently near the door, his hand never straying far from the gun concealed beneath his jacket. Trust nothing, no one. That was how we'd survived this long.
"Everything is prepared, Prince Romano," Father Salvatore said, his weathered face carefully blank.
The old priest had served the Romano family for decades. He'd heard confessions that would send lesser men running to the cops. He knew better than to ask questions about this hasty ceremony.
"Good." I checked my watch—two minutes until she was due to arrive. "Remember what I said. Short. Efficient. No unnecessary flourishes."
"Yes, Prince Romano." The priest nodded, eyes downcast. "Though I must remind you, even a marriage performed under... unusual circumstances is still binding in the eyes of God."
I scoffed. God had nothing to do with this arrangement.
The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and every muscle in my body tensed. I didn't turn around immediately. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
But when I did, my breath caught.
Sienna Moretti stood in the doorway, a vision in white that made my hands itch to claim her.
Her dress was simple—not the elaborate gown she'd abandoned last night. This one hugged every delicious curve before falling to the floor in a whisper of silk. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, and those stormy gray eyes promised violence.
My cock hardened instantly.
Now, that memory clashed violently with the present—with Sienna walking toward me, hatred burning in those gray eyes.
She walked down the short aisle alone. No escort, no flowers. Just raw fury wrapped in white silk.
Behind her, a handful of witnesses—my most trusted men, her father's lieutenant. Enough to make it official. Enough to spread the word that Sienna Moretti now belonged to me.
Her father hadn't even bothered to show up. He'd sent his right-hand man instead—Vito Caruso, a stone-faced killer whose eyes tracked every movement in the room. He'd known Sienna since she was a child, and the tension in his jaw told me exactly how he felt about this arrangement.
Too bad. The deal was done.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," she hissed when she reached my side.
I couldn't help the smirk that crossed my face. "Considering I caught a runaway bride and secured a treaty with the Moretti family in one day, I'd say I've earned it."
"This isn't real," she whispered, venom lacing every syllable. "None of this means anything."
"That's where you're wrong,principessa." I leaned closer, inhaling her scent—vanilla and citrus and something uniquely her. "The documents we're signing are very real. The protection my name gives you is very real."
