It's not real.
She's not mine. Not in any way that matters.
I'll protect her. Provide for her. Give her whatever she needs to live comfortably under my roof. But I won't touch her. Won't burden her with a husband who can't stand, can't walk, can't be the man she deserves.
She volunteered for this marriage to protect her family.
Brave.
Stupid.
Both.
The priest continues. More words. More ritual.
I keep my eyes forward. Keep my hands still. Keep my expression carved from the same stone as the church walls.
But I'm aware of her. Every breath she takes. Every small shift of her weight. The faint scent of something floral drifting through the incense-heavy air.
Jasmine.
She smells like jasmine.
My cock twitches again.
Fuck.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Antonella
"Do you, Antonella Romano, take Bruno Sartori to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
The priest's voice echoes through the church. Latin and English blending together in a ceremony that feels more like a business contract than a wedding.
I look at Bruno through my veil.
He hasn't moved since I reached the altar.
"I do."
The words come out steady. Stronger than I feel.
Bruno's jaw tightens. Just slightly. Just enough for me to notice.
The priest continues. More words about holy matrimony and sacred bonds. I barely hear them. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out everything else.
This is real.
This is happening.
I'm married to a man I met five minutes ago. A man in a wheelchair. A man whose family bought me to pay off my father's debts.
"You may now kiss the bride."
The priest's words hang in the air.
I wait.
