Chapter 9 Better than what she was expecting

Elisa woke up with a tight knot in her stomach. Today was the day. Her wedding day. The one she had been dreading since she opened her eyes in the hospital bed. The thought of it had kept her awake most of the night - tossing, turning, and staring at the ceiling in the dim light of the hotel room. Her body was tired, but her mind hadn't rested for a second.

She wasn't just getting married. She would be seeing her fiancé - Stefano Bellucci - in the flesh for the very first time. Today, the man she had been forced to accept would become her husband.

The wedding had been scheduled for the afternoon, to give her enough time to get ready. After a silent breakfast with her mother, the preparations began. An army of makeup artists and stylists had been invited to transform her into a gorgeous bride.

Her hair had been washed, curled, and pinned into soft waves, with a few delicate strands framing her face. A thin silver tiara was gently tucked into the top of her hair. Her makeup was flawless - light enough to show her features, yet polished enough to hide the slight puffiness under her eyes from lack of sleep and the fading bruise on her cheek. Her lips were painted a pale rose, her eyes softly defined, the blue depths of my eyes were accentuated with mascara.

The dress was absolutely stunning. She couldn't stop admiring herself in the mirror, turning left and right. The gown was a fitted ivory piece, elegant and dramatic. It hugged her shape through the waist before blooming into a wide train that shimmered under the lights. A soft veil, sheer and long, rested at the back of her head, ready to be pulled over her face. She looked like a bride pulled from a magazine.

While she was still admiring herself in the mirror, her mother stepped inside the room. She had been in her own room getting ready for the wedding. Her mother was already fully dressed and made up, her navy gown long and sleek, hair in a classic bun, makeup expertly applied. When her mother saw her in her wedding dress, her eyes blurred with tears.

"Elisa, you look absolutely gorgeous. You make a beautiful bride."

"Thank you."

When they were done, they left the hotel. A sleek black SUV waited at the entrance. Her father had already left for the venue. The wedding was to be held in an exclusive cathedral, thirty minutes from the Bellucci Hotel - neutral ground between two powerful families.

When they arrived the Cathedral, there was a crowd of luxury black cars, parked along the church lot. Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and Maybachs. Bodyguards stood at the gates, at the doors, at the corners - watching everything. Cameras flashed in the distance. The entire area looked less like a wedding and more like a high-security.

Her mother stepped out first. Before leaving, she turned and gave Elisa a smile.

"Your father will come for you."

Then she disappeared into the cathedral. Minutes passed before the passenger door opened again, and her father appeared. Without a word, he reached out his hand. She hesitated before placing her hand in his. He helped her out of the car and led her toward the towering doors of the church. This was it.

Two guards in black suits stood on either side of the ornate double doors. The moment the orchestra inside began playing, they swung the doors open in one smooth motion.

Her father offered his arm. Together, they stepped into the cathedral, and Elisa felt the air change. The entire space was glowing - filled with golden light pouring from the tall stained-glass windows. The pews were full. Rows and rows of unfamiliar faces turned to watch her.

Her fingers dug slightly into her father's arm. She wondered if they knew that this was an arranged marriage. Did they know?

Her eyes drifted to the altar. The priest stood tall at the front. Another man stood beside him. He was dressed in a black tailored suit, stood with his back to her. Stefano.

Her heart jumped. Her steps faltered slightly, but her father's firm grip kept her moving. She wanted to see his face. She wondered what his reaction would be to seeing his bride for the first time. Well, the first time after the accident.

As if, at last, the universe had decided to answer her prayers, Stefano turned.

The moment their eyes met, something inside her stilled. It wasn't fear. Not recognition. But something. A pull. A sharp, quiet jolt deep in her chest that stole her breath before she could name it.

What she could understand was this: the pictures hadn't done him justice.

He was olive-skinned and broad-shouldered, with sharp, sculpted features that seemed even more commanding in person. His dark hair was perfectly styled, the kind of carelessness that only came from precision. He wasn't poster-boy handsome-not in the polished, glossy way. His beauty was raw, masculine, intimidating. The suit he wore clung to muscles that strained subtly beneath the fabric.

This wasn't what she expected.

She had seen the photographs. They hadn't looked bad-but she'd assumed they were edited, meant to impress. But now, standing in front of him, she realized the photos had barely captured him at all.

His eyes remained fixed on her. Cold. Calculating. Stripping her bare without moving a single inch.

And the way he looked at her... it wasn't the gaze of a groom seeing his bride for the first time. It wasn't the gaze of a groom admiring his bride. It was something else entirely. Something darker.

But even through the chill of that stare, it stirred something warm and fluttering deep inside her. A knot unraveling in her stomach. Butterflies danced beneath her ribs.

She forgot how to walk. Her feet froze, her breath tangled somewhere in her throat. It wasn't until her father gave her a gentle tug that she blinked back into motion, her steps resuming like she had only just remembered she had legs at all.

All day, the aisle had felt too short in her imagination. But now, standing at the edge of it with his gaze burning into her skin, it felt endless.

Eventually, they reached the altar. Her father let go of her arm and took her hand, placing it into Stefano's. As his palm brushed against hers, an electric shiver rushed through her body. His palm was warm and large. It closed around hers firmly. He was tall. Of course, she knew that he was tall from the files, but she never considered he would tower over her so much.

Elisa raised her eyes and met his. From up close she could see the colour of his eyes. His eyes were a striking shade of hazel, warm and golden in the light, rimmed with flecks of green that caught her off guard.