The pounding music and wild crowd gyrating to the rhythm, coupled with some engaging in questionable activities, overwhelmed my senses as I entered the club. The unpleasant odors inside only added to the discomfort. We squeezed our way through the throngs of people, and I could feel lustful gazes on my back and unwanted touches that I'd have resisted elsewhere. It was well past 7 when we reached the club that Diane had recommended. I had arrived a bit earlier, and now, amidst the sea of faces, I was trying to locate her.
Diane had informed me earlier that she was already here and told me to follow the directions she'd texted me. Fortunately, I hadn't gotten lost, but within this massive crowd, I seemed to have lost her. I let out an exasperated sigh before settling at the bar counter. The bar was on the second floor, offering a vantage point to spot Diane on the dance floor. However, due to the dim lighting, distinguishing faces was challenging.
"One martini, please," I ordered.
"Right away, Madame," the bartender replied.
"Thank you," I muttered as he set my drink in front of me. I was accustomed to martini shots, so handling them wasn't an issue, given my high alcohol tolerance. I downed it in one gulp before ordering another.
As I sipped my fourth martini, my vision began to blur, and the world started spinning. I had a pretty high tolerance, but apparently, martinis had a different plan for me that night. I lost count of how many shots I'd taken as I continued to down them. I didn't care if I got drunk; I was here to have a good time.
However, enjoying the night didn't mean getting wasted, developing a pounding headache, and waking up under silk satin sheets. Wait, what? Where was I? I scanned the room, noting the distinct lack of taste in its decor, with everything cloaked in plain black, including the curtains and sheets.
Groaning, I attempted to sit up, but a sharp soreness below stopped me. My eyes widened when I realized I was naked beneath the sheets. Confusion and disbelief coursed through me. What had happened last night? I was about to scream in horror when I realized someone had been silently watching me sleep, a detail I'd missed earlier.
"W-who are you?" I stammered, struggling to make out the figure obscured by darkness. The person sat in the corner of the room, barely visible. However, I could feel their gaze sending shivers down my spine.
"Alejandro Massimo Luca, wife," came the reply that weakened my entire body. His deep, baritone voice and the revelation that he considered me his wife sent a rush of disbelief and anxiety through me. Had he lost his mind?
I was about to lash out when I noticed a glint on my left ring finger. A ring adorned with diamonds, but I glimpsed hints of gold. Relief washed over me; I preferred gold to silver. However, how had I ended up married to a man I didn't even know? How drunk had I been the previous night?
"W-ha-how—what? You're not joking, are you?" I asked in frustration. I held the sheet with my left hand while the other ran through my hair, trying to make sense of the situation.
"Do I seem like I'm joking, wife?" he replied sternly before tossing an envelope in my direction. I picked it up and sat on the bed, unfolding the contents. The first sentence I read in the document sent my head spinning—it was a marriage certificate, complete with my signature above my name and his. How had this happened?
"Get dressed; breakfast will be served later. Don't attempt to escape, wife," he warned before exiting the room, leaving me in shock.
Escape? How could I escape when I had no idea where I was, and I had no doubt that he would find me if I tried? I didn't even remember how I had ended up here. My head pounded as I glanced at my silenced phone.
15 missed calls.
105 messages.
10 voicemails.
50 emails.
I winced at the sight of my notifications. Fortunately, my phone had been on silent, or it would have been incessantly ringing all night. Why couldn't I remember what had happened the previous evening?
My thoughts were interrupted when we came to a stop in front of oak double doors. The doors opened to reveal a dining room filled with a lavish spread of food. I hadn't been informed of such a grand feast taking place or whether this was a customary occurrence in this household.
I felt a rush of intimidation as I noticed people seated at the table, all seemingly waiting for my arrival. I locked eyes with him, my husband, and sighed internally. It seemed I had rolled my eyes at the wrong moment. He was sitting at the head of the table, an empty chair beside him, and other maids standing nearby, waiting for orders. The maids were unnaturally thin, and I wondered if they had eaten.
"Come here," his authoritative voice commanded, making me feel like bowing down. Despite the uncomfortable stares, I walked confidently toward him. My center throbbed with pain as I made my way to him. When I reached his side, he pulled me by the waist, leaving me stunned.
"With all due respect, who is she to you, boss?" a woman with bright red lipstick asked, breaking the tense silence. Her eyes lingered on me, and her face contorted in disgust as she scrutinized me. I wanted to raise an eyebrow but restrained myself, as I had no idea who she was.
The room erupted in murmurs as everyone seemed to be curious about who I was. I glanced at the man beside me, who was eating calmly but with a hint of wickedness in his eyes. He appeared much older than the others, perhaps in his 80s.
"Quiet," the man holding me commanded, silencing the room. Except for the woman who had questioned me.
"YOUR WHAT? YOUR WIFE? HOW COULD THAT HAPPEN? I'M YOUR FIANCE, AND YOU WERE BETHROTHED TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE…Mr. Luca!" she exploded, her outburst startling me and making me clutch Alejandro. Wait, what? She was his fiancée?
The room remained silent, awaiting Alejandro's response. It was becoming increasingly clear that this household had ties to the mafia.