The night had been one hell of a wild one. A blur of flashing lights, music loud enough to rattle bones, and drinks that kept pouring until the world spun on its own. Adele had gone all out with Karen right there in their living room, soaking in the last night of freedom before stepping into the cage she willingly locked herself in.
Now, it was over. The party had died down. The city outside still hummed with life, but inside their penthouse, everything had gone still. The scent of alcohol, sweat, and expensive perfume lingered in the air as Karen dragged Adele's half-conscious body to her room.
"Damn, you're heavy," Karen huffed, struggling to keep Adele upright as they stumbled inside. Adele, however, was dead weight—mumbling incoherent things, her head lolling against Karen's shoulder.
"Remind me to never let you drink that much again," Karen muttered as she eased Adele onto the bed.
Adele only groaned in response, her lashes fluttering but never fully opening. Karen sighed, pulling the blankets over her friend before smoothing back her hair.
"You better not throw up in your sleep," she teased, but Adele was already lost to the darkness.
With a final glance, Karen made her way to her own room, barely managing to shut the door before collapsing onto the mattress. She didn't even bother changing—just face-planted onto the bed, too drunk and exhausted to care about anything else.
Sleep came fast. Deep. Almost too deep.
Until she felt it.
That all-too-familiar presence.
The first sensation was warmth. Breath, hot and slow, against the back of her neck.
Karen stirred slightly, a frown forming as she curled deeper into the blankets. But then came the next touch—cold lips brushing against her nape, lingering as if savoring the moment.
Her heart lurched.
Not again.
She knew this feeling. This suffocating, inescapable presence that haunted her in the dead of night. A shadow that had long refused to leave her alone.
And he was here. Again.
Karen's eyes snapped open, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn't dare move, didn't even breathe.
But he knew she was awake. He could literally hear how hard her heart pounded against her chest.
Fingers traced the bare skin of her thigh, featherlight, teasing, making her body react before her mind could catch up.
Her chest rose and fell too fast.
She swallowed. "You said you'd stop."
A dark chuckle. One that curled around her like smoke, thick and inescapable.
"I said I'd think about it. I did." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "But I can't keep away from you, Pixie. You know that."
Karen squeezed her eyes shut.
No. No, this wasn't happening again.
But then he moved closer, the bed dipping under his weight. The scent of him—dark, masculine, something entirely his—wrapped around her like a noose.
"You're drunk," he murmured, fingers now toying with the hem of her nightie. "But you still feel me, don't you?"
Her body betrayed her with a violent shudder.
She forced herself to turn then, barely able to make out his form in the dim lighting. And just as always, he wore it.
The mask.
He never failed to wear it.
Even when he knew that she knew.
She knew exactly who lurked beneath it.
Her voice came out hoarse. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
His gloved fingers trailed up her arm, deliberate, measured. He never rushed. Never forced.
Because he didn't have to.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the moment she stopped fighting it.
"You already know why," he whispered.
Karen's throat tightened. "You're insane."
His head tilted slightly, and though she couldn't see his face, she could feel his smirk.
"Then what does that make you?"
She stiffened.
His fingers curled beneath her chin, tilting her face up. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until he exhaled, slow and deliberate, against her parted lips.
"You're scared," he murmured. "But not of me."
Karen's entire body tensed, fingers trembling as they fisted the sheets.
"Stop it," she whispered.
His touch trailed back down, skimming her collarbone, her shoulder, down to her wrist. He lifted her hand slowly, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart.
"I never stop," he said, his voice dark with promise. "And neither do you."
Her breath came ragged. She tried to deny it in her heart, but...
He was right.
That was the nightmare.
Not him.
But the fact that she might want him back.
******
Adele sat before the vanity, staring at the mirror with empty eyes. Her reflection was stunning—every bit the perfect bride. The dress hugged her body like it had been crafted for her alone, the intricate lacework and beading catching the light with every slight movement. The veil rested lightly on her curled hair, a final delicate touch to complete the illusion.
But that's all it was.
An illusion.
Her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress, clenching until her knuckles turned white. Was she really doing this? Was this truly the right choice?
Sure, she was sacrificing for her father, but what if it wasn't worth it? What if this wedding turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life?
A soft knock interrupted her downward spiral.
"Adele?" Her father's voice was gentle, hesitant—so unlike the strong, commanding man she had grown up knowing.
Adele inhaled sharply before responding. "Come in."
The door opened, and Chairman Marino stepped in, his gaze sweeping over her. For a brief moment, he simply stared, as if committing this moment to memory.
"You look beautiful," he finally said, voice thick with emotion.
Adele managed a small, tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Dad."
He approached slowly, hands clasped together as though unsure if he had the right to touch her. He had been careful with her lately, ever since this marriage was arranged—treading lightly, as if he knew she was a ticking time bomb.
"Adele," he sighed, sitting on the cushioned chair beside her. "I know this isn't what you wanted. And I won't pretend that it is. But I need you to know… I would have never asked this of you if I had any other choice."
She turned to him, watching the deep lines of worry and guilt carved into his face.
"You always have a choice," she said softly.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Not this time."
The words sat heavily between them.
Their whole world was crumbling to nothing. And this marriage was the only thing keeping them from falling into absolute ruin.
It didn't make it easier.
It didn't make her less angry.
But she understood.
Her father reached out then, taking her hands in his. His fingers, usually steady and sure, trembled slightly.
"I'm so proud of you," he murmured, his voice breaking just a little. "You've always been strong, Adele. Stronger than I ever deserved."
A lump formed in her throat, but she forced it down, forcing herself to keep her face composed.
Chairman Marino let out a shaky breath before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you outside," he whispered.
She nodded, watching as he turned and left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.
The moment he was gone, the walls she had built around herself shattered.
She sucked in a breath, her vision blurring.
And then another knock came. This time, it wasn't hesitant.
The door flew open, and Karen waltzed in, her hands on her hips.
"Okay," she announced. "I just came to make sure the bride hasn't decided to pull a Houdini and disappear before the ceremony."
Adele let out a strangled laugh, but the second Karen opened her arms, the dam broke.
She lurched forward, burying herself in Karen's embrace, and let go.
The sobs wracked through her body, shaking her to the core. No one was there to see her—no judgment, no expectations, no weight of the heavy responsibility pressing down on her. Just Karen. Just her best friend, holding her tightly, saying nothing, and letting her cry.
No one spoke.
No one tried to comfort her with empty words like it'll be okay or this is for the best.
Because they both knew it wouldn't be okay.
When the tears finally dried, Adele sniffled, rubbing at her eyes, knowing her makeup was completely ruined and that they'd have to redo it.
She pulled back, pouting. "Do I look good in this dress though?"
Karen gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. "Adele, my love, you look like an absolute goddess who's about to walk in there and make everyone regret ever thinking they could control you."
Adele let out a watery laugh. "That good, huh?"
Karen grinned. "That good."
Adele exhaled, straightening her shoulders.
"Alright then," she said, voice stronger now. "Let's go kill this wedding."
Karen smirked. "Hell yeah, we are..... Just after we get your make up fixed up."
"Right,"Adele laughed cheekily.
★★
Adele's heels clicked against the polished floor, each step measured, deliberate. Her fingers clutched the bouquet with just enough force to turn her knuckles white, though she willed herself to relax. The last thing she needed was to show any sign of hesitation.
The courthouse was colder than she expected. Not in temperature, but in atmosphere. It was sterile, impersonal—nothing like the grand, flower-filled weddings she had once imagined as a little girl. There were no crowds, no whispers of admiration, no music swelling as she walked. Just a judge, a few witnesses, and a contract waiting for her signature.
And him.
Giovanni Ricci.
The moment her gaze landed on him, the world stopped.
So this was him.
Her heart slammed into her ribs, and for a terrifying second, she forgot how to breathe.
It was him.
One of the very few men she hated—the man whose presence had been burned into her memory so deeply, it sent a chill through her bones.
How could this coincidence happen?
He stood tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal-gray suit that fit him like sin. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, a silent warning that this was his territory. His world.
Dark hair, neatly styled. A chiseled jaw, sharp enough to cut. And those eyes—those cold, calculating eyes that flicked over her without emotion.
No.
Not at her.
Through her.
Because he hadn't truly looked at her yet. The sheer white veil obscured most of her face, reducing her to a mere silhouette before him.
Adele's stomach churned, but the people around them gave her no chance to react.
Logan, Giovanni's right-hand man, stood beside him—stoic, unreadable. Then there was an older gentleman in a dark suit, someone from Giovanni's circle, his eyes sharp and assessing. And then, the smallest presence in the room—a little girl clinging to Logan's hand, her innocent gaze bouncing between the adults with mild curiosity.
His daughter.
Adele swallowed hard, her mind cataloging each of them in rapid succession.
This was the family she was about to be bound to.
The judge cleared his throat, his voice breaking through the static in her head.
"We are gathered here today for the union of Adele Marino and Giovanni Ricci in lawful marriage."
She forced herself to inhale slowly, steadying the chaotic rhythm of her pulse.
This was happening.
This was real.
She flicked a glance at her father, standing off to the side, hands clasped in front of him like this was some boardroom deal he was overseeing. He nodded slightly, urging her forward.
So she stepped closer.
Giovanni still hadn't truly looked at her.
She could see his profile—strong, striking—but his gaze remained fixed ahead, detached, as if this entire process was nothing more than an inconvenience he needed to get through.
The judge continued, speaking about commitment, loyalty, and duty—words that felt more like a business agreement than a love story.
Adele's lips pressed together. Love had never been part of the equation.
"Miss Marino, do you take Giovanni Ricci as your lawfully wedded husband?"
A pause.
A second too long.
A cold bead of sweat trailed down the back of her neck as her fingers clenched tighter around the bouquet.
Do you?
No.
But she lifted her chin, her voice smooth despite the turmoil in her chest.
"I do."
Giovanni didn't react.
Not a flicker of emotion. Not a single shift in his stance.
"And Mr. Ricci, do you take Adele Marino as your lawfully wedded wife?"
A silence stretched between them.
Adele's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Then—
"I do," Giovanni said, his voice deep, steady, final.
The weight of those two words settled over her like a chain locking into place.
The judge nodded, satisfied.
"The rings."
Logan stepped forward, presenting the bands. Giovanni took hers without hesitation, slipping it onto her finger with a precision that was almost mechanical.
Adele followed suit, sliding the ring onto his hand, her touch barely grazing his skin.
It felt surreal.
Like she was watching someone else's life unfold.
The judge clasped his hands together, his tone final.
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Adele exhaled, thinking it was finally over.
But then...
"You may now kiss the bride."
Her body went rigid.
Her breath hitched.
And for the first time, Giovanni truly looked at her.
He turned, his gaze cutting through the veil, and everything inside Adele froze.
Recognition flickered in his expression.
Not immediate. Not all at once. But like a slow-moving storm brewing beneath the surface.
Something dangerous. He'd sworn to rain hell on her if they crossed paths again. He could remember the incident from years ago.
A smirk fell on his face.
Her lips parted, but before she could say anything, a hand gripped her waist, firm and unyielding.
And then—
His mouth was on hers.
Not gentle.
Not hesitant.
A claim.
A warning.
Her fingers dug into the front of his suit as her entire body tensed, her mind screaming.
Because this wasn't just a wedding.
This was doom for her.