Elena's POV
The only sound in the room is that of silverware against porcelain. The silence is heavy and awkward, and I'm feeling such a mix of emotions that my appetite is gone. I've barely even touched my food.
Dad eats his food comfortably, though he looks on edge, like he's nervous or something.
I steal a glance at Adrian. He cuts his food like he's dissecting an animal. slow, precise, controlled, even though he hasn't touched much of it.
"So," Dad breaks the silence, forcing a smile that doesn't fit his face. "About the.."
"I think it would be better if you let us talk alone," Adrian says evenly. His voice is as calm as ever as he sets his fork down. My eyes dart to my father. His face is red with embarrassment. It's not every day someone interrupts his speaking.
"Excuse me?" Father asks with a look of confusion.
Adrian looks up at him with that same calm demeanor, but there's a coldness to it. "I'd like to talk to my fiancée alone, if you don't mind."
For a second, it looks like Dad wants to resist, but then, "Fine. I'll leave the two of you to talk," he says and sends me a look. A warning not to mess this up.
He leaves, his feet tapping against the floor. My breathing increases. Being left alone with this man is the last thing I want right now.
It's silent again.
Adrian leans back in his seat, his blue eyes watching me. I grab my glass and take a sip of the content to look busy.
"You've barely touched your food" He finally says.
"I, uh, I'm not really hungry," I tell him, dropping my glass back down.
"Mmm," he nods objectively. "You don't want this marriage, do you?"
My eyes lift to his at once. Is it that obvious? "What gave it away?" I ask him.
"Your eyes. They gave you away the moment you saw me."
I clear my throat, a bit flustered. "You don't seem like you want this either."
"I don't." The way he says it makes it sound like he really means it.
"Then why? Why did you agree to it? You and my dad are rivals and have been for the longest, so what made you guys come to this agreement? How can you get married to someone you don't even love?"
"Who said anything about love?" He takes a sip of his own wine.
"There's no love when it comes to the Mafia, Elena. There's only power, business, transactions. I thought you'd know that by now already."
"Marriage is a word people hide behind. I only believe in results."
Transaction? That's all they see it as. That's all they see me as.
I let out a sigh. I can't change any of their minds. "So you still won't tell me what agreement you had with my dad? What you're both getting out of it?"
"I don't owe you any explanations. If you really want to know, you can ask your father."
The way he speaks irks me. So rude, yet so calm.
"So there's really no way I can convince you to not go through with this marriage?"
He shakes his head no, those blue eyes burning into mine.
"Okay then." It's fine. I have to go ahead with it anyway, if not, Dad's going to harm Babushka, and I can't let that happen. I can't let him take another person away from me.
"It's good that you've come to terms with it fast. After all, the wedding is tomorrow."
My heart drops at those words.
"Tomorrow?"
"I'm sure I didn't stutter, Miss Elena." He takes another sip of his wine.
"But..but that's too early. We barely have time to know ourselves, and we haven't even made proper arrangements. How is it tomorrow?" I search his eyes for answers. I'm not prepared for this new change, physically or mentally.
"Arrangements have been made already, from the venue down to your wedding dress, which will be sent here shortly after I leave. As for getting to know ourselves, that's not really important but if you insist, we still have the rest of our marriage days to do that, so you don't have to worry," he still speaks in that stupid calm tone of his.
The air inside suddenly feels too hot, like the room is too small for the both of us. It's hard drawing breaths, plus the way my heart pounds against my chest, the way my life is quickly turning upside down right in front of my own eyes, and I can't do anything about it.
While I'm still processing what he said, he gets up and straightens his suit. "If that is all, I'll take my leave," he says, then places one hand on the table while the other finds my chin.
He tilts my face to the side with a finger, then places a soft kiss on my left cheek.
Warmth spreads throughout my body instantly.
"See you tomorrow, Miss Elena," he says before releasing me. Then he sends one last look my way before turning and heading out of the house.
I sit there, shocked and in silence, confused on why my body always seems to react a certain way whenever he touches me, even though I'm supposed to be scared of him, or despise him.
Confused on the sudden direction my life is taking, from one big news to the other. First I'm forced to get married, then I find out that it's a marriage to one of the most feared men in the Mafia.
And the said wedding is in less than 24 hours. I've barely had time to process any of this. I feel like I'mbeing weighed down constantly.
I don't even know when I start crying, but I can't help it. I don't know what to do anymore. I just sit there and let the tears roll out. Maybe I'll feel better afterward.
THE NEXT MORNING
I don't remember sleeping. One minute it's night, and I blink twice, and it's morning.
Now, I'm standing in front of two tall white doors that can shut in my life forever. If I walk into this room, there's no coming back from it.
My shaking fingers grip my bouquet tightly for stability. It's a bit chilly out here, but I still feel all warm inside. My palms are all sweaty, and I can feel the beads of sweat forming on my head.
Dad stands beside me as he adjusts his suit. He looks satisfied and accomplished. Someone would mistake him for being a normal proud father on his daughter's wedding day.
He leans in close. His voice is low, but firm. "Today is a big day for me. Don't do anything stupid to ruin it. Keep a smile on your face at all times and act like the obedient wife."
"If anything goes wrong, I'm sure you already know what's going to happen."
I swallow at his threat. He leans back and smiles brightly like he didn't just threaten me with Babushka's life. I let out a sigh and look ahead. It probably won't get any better from here on.
The doors open, and Dad's arm closes around mine as he leads us inside.
A wave of sound and light washes over me. The scent of candle wax, perfumes, and flowers fill the whole room.
Light murmurs fill the room at the same time. Thousands of eyes turn to me all at once. I can feel them. Some filled with judgment, whispering behind painted lips, some curious and hungry for gossip, and few, just very few, hold pity in their eyes, like they can understand and relate to my dilemma.
Their stares are suffocating, and I feel my throat constrict, but I push forward and force my shoulders straight.
Dad nudges me on the shoulder, almost too hard. "Smile," he bites out. And I do. But it's a barely there smile.
With every step I take, my heartbeat increases. I keep my gaze low, letting it trail the flowers that line the aisle. I can't look up yet. I'm not ready to face what's awaiting me, and so I look everywhere else but at my husband to be.
I lift my head, and the first face I see is not his, but it's a man who looks eerily like him.
Same sharp jaw, similar eyes, though his are a bit paler, and some silver threads are forming on his head. He gives off the same cold energy, maybe even worse.
It's Adrian's father.
His stare pins me in place, calculating and assessing. Observing me like I'm some newly acquired project. There's no warmth in those eyes. No approval. Just pure observation.
My stomach twists, and I quickly look away before his gaze crushes me entirely.
I finally muster up a bit of courage, and my eyes find his blue ones.
Adrian stands at the altar, tall and composed. A black suit is perfectly tailored to his frame. He doesn't smile. He just stands there, holding my gaze.
The way he looks at me feels like he can see right through me, like he's unraveled all my hidden layers already.
There's also no admiration whatsoever in his eyes. They hold no emotion. You can never tell what's going through his head.
When I finally reach the altar, my father lets go, giving Adrian a quick nod before joining the rest of the crowd.
The priest begins the ceremony, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the chapel. I'm aware of almost everything around me. The strong smell of Adrian's cologne, the steady rhythm of his breathing, everything.
"Do you, Mr. Moretti, take Elena Volkova to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." It comes out almost immediately, without hesitation.
"Do you, Miss Volkova, take Mr. Adrian Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
My throat tightens.
Adrian's eyes find mine again. He looks at me like he's daring me to object, Because he knows I can't. And that gives him more satisfaction than ever.
"I...I do," I force through a trembling voice.
Rings slide onto our fingers, and his touch is warm against my shaking hand.
Applause breaks out through the room. An act of fake happiness and celebration.
The priest then smiles. "You may now kiss the bride."
Everything stills.
Adrian takes a step closer to me, filling all the space between us. His eyes hold mine captive as he lifts a hand to my face.
His hand slides down, fingertips brushing along my jaw, tracing the line of my throat. Then it tightens all of a sudden, forcing me to look up at him.
The sudden action causes a faint moan to slip from my lips, and something dark flickers in his eyes, but it only lasts less than a second.
His grip is tight enough to keep me in place but not to constrict my breathing. I can feel his hot breath on my face. Warm and minty. The air between us feels charged, the kind of silence that comes before the thunder.
And then he leans in, closing the distance between us.
The kiss isn't tender. It's deep.
A kiss that exudes control.
Ownership.
And I know that I'll never be able to escape this man.