Craving The Man I Was Forced To Marry

I never imagined I'd be marrying a man I hadn't even kissed.

But here I was-drowning in satin, corseted into a wedding gown that belonged to someone braver, someone bolder. The lace scraped against my skin like punishment, and the veil felt more like a shroud.

"Stand still, Aria," my mother hissed, tugging at the waist again. "He'll be here soon."

He.

Luca Moretti.

Thirty-eight years old. Billionaire. Mafia royalty. And as of today, my husband.

I was twenty-one and invisible in my own life. A bargaining chip in my father's deal with the devil. One signature from me would erase our debts, wipe our shame clean.

One signature, and I'd belong to a man I'd never met.

"He's doing us a favor," my mother whispered, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't embarrass us."

A favor. Right.

Owning me for life-such generosity.

The doors creaked open, and the music began. I froze. My heart pounded like it wanted to run without me. I couldn't see the man waiting at the altar yet, only a sea of expensive suits, judging eyes, and people who wouldn't dare blink wrong around the Moretti family.

I stepped forward, each footstep slow, deliberate. My father's arm gripped mine too tightly.

Then I saw him.

Luca Moretti.

Tall. Impeccably dressed in black. Dark eyes sharp and unreadable. A scar traced his jaw, subtle but permanent. His hands were clasped in front of him, a silver ring glinting on his right hand-like a weapon disguised as jewelry.

He didn't smile. Didn't blink.

He looked at me the way a man might look at a painting he didn't choose to buy.

My knees nearly buckled.

By the time I reached the altar, the air around him felt colder. I didn't dare meet his gaze until the officiant cleared his throat.

"Do you, Luca Moretti, take Aria Valenti to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

A long pause.

Then his voice, low and smooth. "I do."

It sounded like a threat.

"And do you, Aria Valenti, take Luca Moretti-"

"I do," I whispered, before I could lose my nerve.

And just like that, it was done.

I was Aria Moretti.

A bride. A prisoner. A pawn.

He didn't kiss me.

Instead, Luca offered his arm like it was a business formality. I took it because I had no choice.

The car ride to his estate was silent. I stared out the window, trying to breathe. The mansion loomed in the distance, shadowed and sprawling. Guarded gates. Marble steps. A place built to protect secrets-and bury them.

"You're trembling," he said suddenly.

I turned, startled. "I'm fine."

"You should be. I just saved your family."

His words were sharp, but his tone was almost bored. Like this marriage wasn't personal. Like I wasn't real.

"You didn't save us. You bought me," I said quietly.

He smirked then. Just barely. "Semantics."

We entered the house. I expected a crowd, a celebration, some twisted version of a wedding reception.

But it was empty. No one was waiting.

"You'll sleep in the west wing," he said without looking at me. "Your things are already there."

"Do I get a key? Or am I not trusted with doors?"

He looked at me then-really looked. "I don't care where you go, Aria. Just remember who you belong to now."

My cheeks flushed. Not from desire-from rage.

He turned and started up the stairs.

I stayed frozen.

He didn't wait for me.

That night, the west wing was colder than the rest of the mansion. My suite was massive, elegant... and lifeless. Just like this marriage.

I changed into a silk nightgown someone had laid out for me. I didn't cry. I wouldn't give him or anyone the satisfaction.

Then came the knock.

Firm. Controlled.

I opened the door slowly.

Luca stood there, sleeves rolled up now, revealing veins and ink along his forearm. His eyes swept over me, but his expression didn't change.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Now?"

He stepped inside without waiting. "There are rules to this marriage, Aria. If you follow them, I'll protect you."

I crossed my arms. "And if I don't?"

"You won't like the consequences."

My heart flipped, but I didn't back down. "Then maybe you shouldn't have married someone who doesn't scare easily."

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes respect? Amusement?

Or something darker.

He took a slow step forward. "You were forced into this. I was... convinced. We both have reasons to hate this arrangement. But here we are."

"I'll stay out of your way," I said. "Just tell me what you want from me."

His jaw clenched. "I want silence. Discretion. And no curiosity about my business."

"That's all?"

"No," he said, voice low. "There will be a night when I come to your room, and I won't be asking for silence. You'll know it when it comes."

The air left my lungs.

"And until then?" I whispered.

He reached for the door. "Until then, be smart."

He closed it behind him without another word.

And I was left in a room filled with silence and a heart that no longer felt like mine.

I thought the hardest part would be marrying a stranger.

But I was wrong.

The hardest part... was the way my body reacted every time he looked at me.