Chapter 2 Episode 2

Two days passed like a blur.

A storm of silk, stilettos, whispered instructions, and stiff, formal smiles that didn't reach anyone's eyes.

I didn't see him again.

Not once.

Not a glimpse of Dante Romano.

Not even a message.

It was almost like he'd vanished, like the decision had already been made and there was nothing left to discuss.

And maybe that was the most terrifying part-that a man could rearrange my entire future and not even need to look me in the eye while doing it.

---

My mother hovered around me like a ghost.

She helped pick out my wedding gown. Helped brush my hair. Helped tuck the veil into place. But she didn't look me in the eyes, not fully. As if she couldn't bear what they were doing to me either.

"Talk to him," I whispered to her once, gripping the fabric of her sleeve as I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. "Please, Mamma. Tell him I don't want this."

Her lips tightened.

"You think I didn't beg once too?" she asked softly. "You think I didn't cry and scream when he married me off for peace between two families that hated each other?"

She touched my cheek gently, sadly.

"I learned quickly what my place was, Giulia. And it wasn't beside him. It was beneath him."

My stomach twisted.

"I don't want this," I said again, choking on the tears I refused to let fall.

She offered a small, broken smile. "Then survive it. And make it yours."

---

I never got to say goodbye to my room.

To my home.

To the only version of myself I'd ever known.

Because before I realized it, I was standing at the top of the aisle in a cathedral so beautiful it felt like a prison.

The room was filled with our families, allies, enemies dressed in tuxedos, pretending to smile. The air was thick with tension, too many secrets hidden beneath polished surfaces. I couldn't breathe.

My father stood beside me, his arm tucked into mine like this was any normal wedding. As if he hadn't just sold me to the devil for peace.

The music began.

My heels felt like weights.

My heart was thudding in my chest like it wanted to escape before I said "I do."

And then... there he was.

Dante.

Waiting at the altar in a black tailored suit, dark eyes fixed on me.

Still unreadable.

Still calm.

Like this was just business as usual.

I hated him more in that moment than I'd ever hated anyone.

But I couldn't deny it-he was devastatingly, terrifyingly beautiful.

Sharp angles. Cold elegance. Power wrapped in silence.

He watched me as I walked toward him, like he knew he already had me.

---

The vows were simple.

No love. No poetry. Just politics wrapped in white lace.

He didn't look at me when he spoke.

I didn't look at him either.

We exchanged rings-his slid over my finger like a chain.

Then the priest pronounced us husband and wife.

Just like that.

No kiss.

No celebration.

Only silence.

---

The reception was just as cold.

We sat at the same table, surrounded by faces I barely recognized and laughter that sounded rehearsed.

He didn't speak to me.

I didn't speak to him.

We were a show for the masses, a final signature on an invisible treaty sealed in blood and gold.

Occasionally, I'd glance at him-searching for something, anything. A crack. A glimpse of emotion. But he offered nothing. Just cool detachment.

He didn't eat. Didn't toast.

He only watched.

And when the time came to leave, he rose, adjusted his cufflinks, and offered me his hand like a gentleman.

I took it like a prisoner.

---

The car ride to his estate was dead quiet.

I sat pressed against the door, staring out the window, the weight of the dress suffocating me.

He didn't glance at me once.

Didn't touch me.

The silence between us was louder than words.

I couldn't tell if it was indifference or something more... dangerous.

When we finally pulled up to his mansion, the doors were opened by guards dressed in black, their eyes sharp, expressions unreadable.

I was ushered inside without a word.

The place was stunning. Cold. Lavish. A fortress disguised as luxury.

And yet it didn't feel like a home.

It felt like a trap.

---

He showed me to our room himself.

A large space. Dark wood floors. Crisp white sheets on a bed too big for two strangers. A fireplace flickering low. Another set of double doors leading to a marble bathroom.

I stood frozen by the entrance, clutching my gown like armor.

Dante closed the door behind us and moved to the armchair near the window, loosening his tie.

"I'll have someone bring your things in the morning," he said, voice neutral. "For tonight, this is your space. I won't touch you. You have nothing to fear."

I blinked at him.

Nothing to fear?

The irony nearly made me laugh.

I was married to a man I barely knew.

Alone in a house that wasn't mine.

Wearing a ring that meant nothing but control.

And he expected me to feel safe?

I didn't respond.

He didn't wait for one.

Dante moved to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. I could still feel my heartbeat pounding in my throat.

I took off the dress slowly, as if removing it might rewind time. Slipped into the soft silk robe left on the bed for me. Pulled my hair down. Wiped away the makeup.

When he came back out, I was already in bed, curled near the edge, facing away from him.

I felt him pause.

Then move to the opposite side.

The sheets shifted as he laid down.

Not a word spoken between us.

The distance between us felt like miles.

---

But even in the silence...

Even with nothing said...

I could feel his presence behind me.

Quiet. Watchful.

Unignorable.

---

And I couldn't help but wonder-

What kind of man agrees to marry a woman he doesn't know...

Then doesn't touch her, doesn't even look at her on their wedding night?

What kind of man waits in silence?

And what was he waiting for?