Chapter 5 Here Comes the (Reluctant) Bride

I should have eaten something.

Not that I had an appetite-who would, in my situation? But now, seconds from walking down the aisle, skipping breakfast felt like a terrible idea.

My legs were wobbly. My hands clammy. And my stomach? Doing Olympic-level flips.

Deep breath. It's fine. Just walk. One foot in front of the other. You got this.

The wedding coordinator peeked from behind the massive cathedral doors. "Ready?"

No. Absolutely not. I was seconds away from faking a fainting spell. What the hell was I thinking, proposing a fake marriage? This was regret number 100.

But instead of bolting, I nodded weakly. Survival instinct, I guess.

The doors opened. A sea of eyes turned to me.

Okay, maybe not a sea, but definitely a scary amount.

I took a step, heels clicking against marble-loud, too loud. Each click felt like a countdown to my doom.

The music swelled romantically. Which felt... wrong. This wasn't love. This was strategy. Survival. War.

Halfway down the aisle, I made the fatal mistake of looking up.

Alessino stood at the altar, expression unreadable, like he was bored with the whole thing.

Infuriating.

I clenched my bouquet. I wanted to chuck it at his smug face. See if that got a reaction.

But I didn't. I walked, step by painful step, toward the man who had kidnapped me-and now, was marrying me.

When I finally reached him, I exhaled. He didn't speak, just took my hands and turned us to face the priest. Eager to get this over with, apparently.

Well, same.

I pasted on a fake smile and lifted my chin, ignoring the way my heart thumped against my ribs.

The priest started rambling about love, commitment, devotion-I was this close to falling asleep.

I glanced at Alessino. Was that... an actual expression? He looked like he wanted to glue the priest's mouth shut. Progress.

Then finally-finally-"It's time to exchange the rings."

Thank God.

We exchanged them, though mine slipped from my fingers like five times. Not dramatic at all.

Then came the dreaded part.

"You may kiss your bride."

Yeah. That.

My first kiss. With my kidnapper.

I was still plotting ways to dodge it when Alessino slid an arm around my waist and pulled me close. His lips met mine before I could even blink.

My eyes shot open. And just like that, it was over.

He stepped back like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, I stood there-malfunctioning.

Did I just black out?

"Breathe," he murmured as he turned to face the crowd.

I exhaled shakily and followed his lead, forcing my legs to move.

People clapped. Smiled. Like this was some fairytale romance instead of a glorified hostage exchange.

Vivienne waited near the doors, face unreadable, though I caught a twitch at the corner of her lips.

"You looked beautiful up there," she whispered.

"Shut up," I muttered.

She grinned. "Nice save with the rings."

Still holding my hand, Alessino led me outside without a word. Meanwhile, I was still replaying The Kiss on an endless loop-not because I wanted to, but because my brain refused to let it go.

And maybe... just maybe... I was losing my mind.

I could still feel it. The ghost of his lips. The way his hand had fit at my waist. The heat of it.

Snap out of it, girl.

I shook the thought off. Unfortunately, that's when he leaned in, voice low.

"You looked like you were about to pass out back there," he said. "Should I have kissed you longer?"

I choked on air.

Before I could respond, he pulled away, opened the car door, and slid in-like he hadn't just broken me.

I stood frozen. Again.

That was like the third time today.

"Are you planning to sleep standing up?" he asked dryly.

I scrambled in.

The reception hall was crowded with dangerous smiles-mafia dons, their wives, political allies. Everyone polite. Everyone pretending.

Someone handed me champagne. "To the happy couple!"

"To love and loyalty," another chimed in.

Love and loyalty. Sure. Try fear and survival.

I smiled and clinked glasses, taking a sip. Then another. And another.

Big mistake.

---

Alessino's POV:

I knew she was drunk the moment she giggled at nothing. Her cheeks flushed, smile lazy, and she swayed as we moved through the crowd.

"I think I love champagne," she declared, beaming at a wall.

"You're done drinking," I muttered, catching her before she tripped.

"Bossy," she slurred, poking my chest. "I don't like bossy men."

I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder.

"Put me down!" she yelled, kicking weakly.

"Not happening."

"This is kidnapping! Again!"

I sighed. Why didn't I just leave her in that cabin?

At the hotel suite, she was still mumbling nonsense. I dropped her onto the massive bed.

"Sleep."

"Don't wanna," she huffed, rolling around like a toddler.

I started to leave. I'd had only a few drinks, but my skin felt too warm.

Then she grabbed my shirt.

I didn't react fast enough before I stumbled onto her.

Her fingers curled into my shirt. Lips parted. Breath hot.

"Emilia," I warned.

She kissed me.

I should've pulled away.

I didn't.

She sighed against my lips, body arching into mine, and I snapped.

I growled, hands in her hair, dragging her closer. The kiss turned hungry. Desperate. She clawed at my shirt.

Her dress got in the way. I tore it off. Same with my shirt.

And when she whispered my name, everything else disappeared.

---

Emilia's POV:

I woke up with a headache and the sinking realization that I'd made a terrible mistake.

My body ached in places I didn't want to think about, and worst of all-he was still in bed beside me.

Shirtless.

Damn that six-pack.

I slapped myself. Focus.

Last night replayed in vivid detail. The kiss. The bed. The everything.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe-

Nope. Definitely happened.

I turned and looked at him-still asleep, still looking sinfully perfect-and a plan formed.

Get. Out.

If I moved fast, maybe I could escape. No guards. No locked doors.

I slipped on his shirt, ignoring the soreness. I crept to the door, fingers on the knob, heart pounding-

"Where do you think you're going?"

I froze.