Arrange Marriage (Craving)

•𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑰𝑨•

The loud shattering of glass followed by a chain of high-pitched profanities successfully confirmed things had taken a rather ugly turn in the persuasive discussion.

"What the fuck do you want me to do?!" Natalie cried hysterically, probably crashing whatever shattered noisily onto the ground next. "You fuck up your life and now you want to fucking ruin mine next?"

I clutched onto the book I'd been quietly reading a little bit tighter, my hands beginning to slightly tremble.

The words I read suddenly made no sense and I could barely read them properly, hot tears pricking my eyes.

We used to be happy, peaceful and comfortable. We used to make sacrifices for each other in a heartbeat, but just like that, it all became history.

We were miserable and I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to pretend I was resilient before the plastic armour I built around myself withered away.

A soft sniffle across the room drew a dagger into my chest. I knew I wasn't the only one faking a smile, but sometimes I preferred the façade to the reality of how much the people I dearly loved were equally breaking.

I placed my book facedown on the small mahogany desk in the corner of the room and ambled towards the bed at the centre of the room, tears blurring my vision completely.

I plopped onto the bed with a soft thud, wrapping my arms around Ava from behind across her heaving chest, my forehead resting on her shoulder lightly. "It's okay, sweetie," I barely whispered. "It's gonna be okay."

Ava trembled beneath my touch, restrained sobs tearing through her chest. "It's all my fault," she cried softly. "If only I hadn't fallen then maybe-maybe we-"

Her words faltered, a silent torrent of tears bleeding from her eyes thereafter, lips trembling. I couldn't help but hold her a little bit tighter, my tears disobediently falling and soaking through her fluffy white sweatshirt.

Ava Martel was the sweetest fourteen-year-old I'd ever known dealing with unfair misfortunes for a pure soul like hers.

A freak cheerleading accident nearly a month ago had ruthlessly robbed her of her sweet genuine smile and carefree spirit, damaging her spinal cord and temporarily paralysing her from the waist going down.

We'd prayed relentlessly for a recovery miracle, but her health seemed to regress, her arms constantly growing numb and stiff.

The migraines and nosebleeds weren't getting any better either and everything felt draining and overwhelming.

There was hope according to the multiple specialists consulted, hope to cure her and get her on her feet again and reclaim her normal life, but that required a series of surgeries and that meant millions.

Poor timing, Mom would sob herself to sleep chanting every night. We were on the brink of bankruptcy and none of our trustees were willing to help us because of recurring debts our father left us to deal with plus impending criminal charges that'd triggered the heated argument downstairs.

Before his sudden demise nearly two months ago, he'd reportedly stolen a large deal of money from the wrong people and now they were hell-bent on restoring every penny for compensation plus heavy penalties.

Mom tirelessly struggled to avoid a lawsuit and begged for mercy, leading to negotiations that landed us in our current situation.

The ridiculously powerful people we owed proposed marriage to form an alliance and show mercy in taking over our assets without leaving us completely dry.

According to Mom, a matrimonial union would form a strong familial bond, where Ava's medical bills would be completely covered and our family business resurrected although not exclusively ours anymore.

She tried to make it sound like the ultimate way out, but all I heard was bondage, manipulation and a wicked way to keep us in a chokehold.

Something deep inside me blurred red lights that this wasn't mercy. It was a well-calculated scheme to show who we'd messed with, but somehow I was the only one with that perspective.

A loud slap resounded, jerking me back to reality. Ava's sobs only grew louder and sadder, her trembling fingers closing in on mine. "I'm sorry," she wailed pitifully. "I'm so sorry."

Her voice seemed to break, her soul withering. My sweet little sister. I loved her too much to watch her go through so much pain, guilt and trauma. Just holding her made me understand Mom's desperate decisions. We couldn't lose her.

"It's not your fault," I murmured, fighting my own tears. "It's not your fault, Ava."

Truthfully, it was no one's fault except the one lying peacefully in his grave, but he was still our father and he was gone. Blaming him was pointless.

I deeply wanted to call Natalie selfish and inconsiderate for so passionately denying to participate in the offer, but that would be inconsiderate of me too.

She had a blissful life and was madly in love with someone she'd met in high school. I wouldn't agree to marry a stranger too and forget the hopeless love I shared with someone else that had me daydreaming.

Natalie was older and according to Mom, much more mature and fierce enough to handle the pressure of the cruel world. Maybe that was why she pinned the responsibility on her, not me.

I was just Sofia, the soft and calmer sister who couldn't control her emotions. Often, it greatly offended me and made me feel weak, but part of me knew it was true.

I was just too soft for the ravenous wolves I encountered daily and what sucked most was nobody seemed to understand how much I tried. Everyone seemed so strong yet I paddled in my own world, prioritising people's feelings over my sanity half of the time.

The arguing only seemed to grow louder, much more violent and hostile. They didn't hold back from saying painful words probably triggering more guilt in Ava and scarring their relationship even worse.

There was only so much turmoil I could take before getting fed up. I couldn't just sit still and watch the people I loved drift apart and create rifts at a time when solidarity was a necessity.

I unwrapped my arms from Ava, helping her lie on her side. She wanted to be alone and break down peacefully. She was in pain and that pain radiated to the softest parts of my heart. She didn't have to hurt, not anymore when something could be done.

I stumbled onto my feet, clenching my trembling fist hard. I took a few steps forward towards the slightly opened door, my stomach rumbling with a nauseating sensation.

I let out a shaky breath, looking at my reflection in the mirror to my side. I was old enough to be someone's wife, freshly twenty-three, a Harvard graduate and jobless after quitting my first highly rewarding job.

My boss had been an exhausting perverted prick, constantly demanding personal favours and seeking to turn me into his puppet plaything.

Two weeks and I was fed up, resigning against his orders and busting my chances at ever securing a stable job in the United States.

Some called me stupid for my decision, but I'd rather be jobless than someone's worthless sex toy. I valued my self-worth and dignity a little bit too much to allow such disrespect and defilement.

At this point, I had nothing to lose by walking into a den of lions and a future I wasn't sure of. I had no love interest whatsoever to bawl my eyes out for and feel guilty for leaving.

I just had the people I loved to protect and that was enough to push me forward to agree to something that'd probably destroy my sanity and humanity altogether.

I pulled the door open with a slight creak, taking a deep controlled breath.

"Sofia," Ava called me softly in between sobs. "Where are you going?"

I looked back at her, my lips curling into a feeble smile. "I love you," I breathed sincerely, smiling through the pain.

She probably didn't understand my sudden confession, but nodded anyways, responding with equal sincerity. "I love you more, Sof."

That was all I needed to hear before exiting the room, softly closing the door behind me so she couldn't hear much of the commotion.

Mom and Natalie were so deep in argument they barely noticed me walk down the staircase in slow steps, trying to calm my senses.

"Fucking deal with it some other way!" Natalie shouted aggressively. "Heck, marry him yourself if you're so hell-bent on that being the only way out but forget about me ever walking down the aisle for any other man that's not Lucas."

Natalie was so furious one would think she wanted to hit Mom. That wouldn't be too surprising given her anger issues. She took after Dad more than either Ava or I did.

Mom had tears in her eyes, trying to pretend she had the situation under control, but this was undoubtedly a lost fight. She'd never agree.

I walked to the bottom of the stairs, swiping at my eyes with my unclenched fist. I could be the bigger person for once and do something for my family. I could handle the pressure and conflict.

For Ava.

"I'll do it," I whispered barely audibly, blinking away my tears.

They probably didn't hear a word, continuing their struggle. I had to be bolder. No one would ever hear me if I acted like a pushover all the time.

I clenched my fist even harder, taking another step forward. "I said I'll do it, Mom," I announced firmly, the boldness in my voice oddly satisfying.

The arguing died down instantly and the two blonde women slowly snapped their heads at me, looking puzzled.

Natalie creased her brows. "Sofia, this is not a fucking joke," she scolded. "Get back upstairs and I'll deal with this bullshit."

"I'm serious," I responded, making eye contact with her. "I'll marry him as long as you both stop arguing so much and destroying our house."

There was brief silence infused by maximum tension before Natalie threw away the broken candlestick she'd been holding, clicking her tongue and brushing her hair back with her hands.

"Could have saved us the drama and just said so earlier," she grumbled, grabbing her purse from the white couch and angrily storming out through the main entrance, nudging my arm roughly in the process.

I stumbled to my side, releasing a deep breath I'd been holding. Mom looked at me for some time before trotting towards me and wrapping her arms tightly around me in a warm motherly embrace.

It felt like an eternity in her arms, an emotional embrace with constant sobs and shared misery. It felt like a farewell, a final send-off before I'd even been married. I wasn't ready for this.

What have I done?

"Things are gonna get better now, I promise," she said promisingly, placing her hands on my shoulders with a big weak smile lighting up her face.

"Ava is gonna get treated, she'll get a caretaker and you don't have to worry about getting a job anymore. Your in-laws will take care of everything, okay honey? Please don't cry anymore, alright?"

I wanted to bawl like a baby, but I couldn't. I'd brought this upon myself without anyone forcing me into it. I had to face the music.

"W-what do I have to do?" I mumbled. "When do I meet him? Who is he a-and when is the wedding?"

Mom's smile faded a little, her hand placed on my head as she stroked my strawberry blonde hair back and forth lightly. "They want things done quickly so it's gonna be tomorrow. You'll have to meet him at the altar, honey."

"But we're not even engaged yet," my lips quivered as I tried to internalise the information I'd just received.

Mom pulled me back emotionally into her embrace. "I know, Sofia," she sobbed. "I know."

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

•𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑰𝑨•

"Tighten the corset," the elderly woman with a thick Russian accent in charge of my wedding preparations ordered firmly.

My eyes stayed glued to my reflection in the body-length mirror as the strings of the corset were diligently pulled at my back until the corset fit me perfectly like a glove.

The tiny glimmery pearls embellished on the corset traced the sweetheart neckline beautifully, some scattered artistically around my chest.

The cleavage the corset left was decent but still prominent and eye-catching for someone like me with considerably bigger than average tits.

The rest of the dress flowed down my waist elegantly in ruffled layers of great volume with more pearls on the seams, giving an overall dazzling effect.

I'd never felt so exquisite in a dress, my perfectly chiselled shoulders and collarbone exposed in a comfortably attractive way.

Beautiful as I felt, the unsettling sensation at the pit of my stomach only seemed to multiply. Traditionally, brides wore white for the wedding and stood out in the colour, but somehow, my gown, exquisite as it was, was all black.

Everything was strictly black in a way that gave me nauseating chills and a shudder of whether this was a wedding or a funeral.

Nothing on me had colour, except my skin growing paler with every passing second and nagging thoughts of how doomed I was.

Even the lacy gloves I wore were in black as well as the professionally applied lipstick on my lips that wouldn't smudge even a little bit when I tried rubbing it off with both my hands and a wet towel.

The strictness on the colour black was infuriating, especially the strict requirement that I had to dye my hair black as well.

That, I'd stood my ground to deny, threatening to disappear before the ceremony began if anyone touched my hair with any sort of chemical. I loved it my hair the way it was and I wasn't going to change it for a stupid fake wedding that'd probably make it to the list of the worst days of my life.

They'd ended up settling for a wig of long black hair, flowing down my back and all the way to my waist, a crown sitting on my head.

I didn't like the dark appeal forcibly exuding a dark aura. I preferred my own, soft and light as it was and I certainly felt more beautiful and comfortable under my own skin with who I truly was.

Another deep sigh set my shoulders even lower, my chest weakly heaving up and down. I would never be ready to give myself to a stranger in this manner, but the love swelling in my chest for my family held the tears at bay. This was the part when I had to be really strong.

Slowly, the countless professionals in the room began leaving, a smaller group of assistants handling the final touches to my makeup, jewellery and outfit.

When everyone finally left, I finally felt like I could breathe, but no matter how hard I tried breathing and swallowing, an uncomfortably solid lump was permanently lodged in my throat. My right hand wouldn't stop trembling and my skin was unusually pale.

I tried closing my eyes and escaping to the lighter and happier moments in pursuit of peace, but all I got was nothing but a constant reminder of how I would possibly never go back to such blissful moments.

The gentle opening of the door followed by a soft click of it closing and footsteps approaching me made my heart jackhammer wildly as I slowly fluttered my eyes open.

I could see a man's reflection in the mirror as he paced towards me, hands in his pockets and a devilish grin touching his lips.

God, I felt weird rumbles in my stomach. I suddenly felt terribly sick.

I'd been told he was older than me but in his mid to late twenties. In all my life, I'd never seen someone in their twenties look old enough to be my father and look so shamelessly at me with undressing eyes.

Even before looking back at him properly, I could feel his dark aura radiate towards me, freezing my blood instantly and sending cold shivers down my spine.

The closer he got to me, the more I felt a constriction in my chest and bile rising up my throat.

I remained rooted to the spot, clamping my hands down firmly onto the dresser in an attempt to help with the trembling in my hands.

He stood directly behind me, almost pressing his body into mine before his cold hand brushed against my exposed shoulder.

I visibly shivered, flinching and mustering enough strength to turn around and face him.

My eyes met his cold icy blue pair, panic flooding my veins at how devious and suggestive his stare grew as his eyes wandered to my body. He was close to drooling and I felt my head spin.

I didn't like him. I didn't like him at all. He scared me and made me feel insecure.

His hand slowly reached out to my face, trying to cup my cheek, but I drew away sharply, following his eyes.

"D-dom--" I quivered, his name too heavy and intimidating to completely roll off my tongue.

Dominic Bernardi. Even his name made me shiver.

The man standing before me grinned even wider, feeding on my fear. "Not Dominic, my little dark queen," he corrected in a raspy tone, his voice making the tiny hairs on my spine stand. "His father, Teodoro, but to you," he murmured, leaning his face closer and closer to mine, "I'll accept Daddy."

His words made me cringe so hard that I felt like throwing up on him. Part of me felt utterly disgusted at his tone, but part of me was relieved I wasn't doomed to marry this wicked pervert.

He reminded me so much of my boss and partly my own father who'd ruined my confidence and perspective of men in my teenage years when I started blooming with his suggestive comments and actions.

Why did I always have to deal with such distasteful behaviour from ridiculously older men?

"So fresh and young," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch my hair. "So innocent and flawless," he growled, hunger carving into his tone.

I felt sick. He had me trapped and looked like he'd instantly break me effortlessly if I moved a muscle. Help.

A light knock on the door followed by its opening made me inwardly sigh in relief as Teodoro turned away from me towards the door and I took it as an opportunity to move further away from him.

"The ceremony will begin in ten minutes," the formally dressed man at the door announced.

Teodoro nodded dismissively, turning back to me once before walking out with a creepy grin. I placed my hand on my flat stomach, taking deep controlled breaths and trying to calm the silent war erupting inside.

He was one scary man. What would his son be like? Was he equally monstrous, immoral and intimidating? Would he treat me the way his father had?

Different questions without answers swirled through my mind as I tried to calm myself. I only had ten minutes to find out and I didn't feel ready.

Two familiar women walked in, covering my head with a long black lacy veil. A bouquet of black roses was placed in my hands before I was escorted out to the venue of the ceremony.

The night was chilly yet I felt extremely hot and sweaty in my gloved palms. The glowing moon and scattered twinkling stars bathed the evening in a magical glow, but the hell I was about to face completely distorted that glow.

I was scared with no one to comfort me, not even my family. They weren't allowed to see me until the wedding was complete but I hoped to see them during the ceremony.

The escorts and I arrived at the bolted garden doors in time to be on schedule and left me standing there alone.

No one was walking me down the aisle. I was presenting myself to him personally and facing a reality I'd chosen, a sacrifice I'd consciously made.

The doors were opened shortly and musical instruments started playing an unfamiliar tune. I took a deep breath and swallowed, taking a step forward like I'd been instructed during the rehearsal.

Two steps inside on the glowing aisle and ravens took off from my sides, flying high into the open sky. Weird floating things like fish appeared beneath my feet, swirling around the lit-up floor.

I was so startled I nearly screamed, but the small squeal I made got swallowed up in the loud clapping of guests and ravens cawing.

Hot giant tears stung my eyes, threatening to spill any second. I bit on my quivering bottom lip, my tears blurring my vision completely without falling. I was so dead.

The walk down the aisle felt like hours of torment and fighting my tears before I finally made it to the altar. I wasn't even sure where to step because of both the veil and tears and nearly tripped and fell when I missed a step.

I thought I heard muffled laughter in the crowd, killing my confidence completely. I was helpless.

Just when I thought I couldn't move forward any further, break down and give everyone a good reason to openly laugh at me, I felt strong hands frame my shoulders lightly on the sides.

The sudden contact of the coldness I felt on my skin and warm unfamiliar hands had an electrifying effect on my exhausted senses, sending tinges from my brain to my toes.

Still trying to process what was happening, I felt myself being guided forward, radiant heat close to my supple body.

It was a man undoubtedly, one with a distinct scent I'd never picked up on another human. It was an enticing musky manly scent, fragranced with a unique pint of rosewood and spice.

I couldn't exactly place what it was, but something about it had both a soothing and seductive effect on my senses.

The warmth disappeared as quickly as I'd felt it on my skin as I stood at the altar, probably facing the groom. The scent didn't completely vanish, its effect still wafting in the air, inviting me to absorb it into my system, into my veins and deep inside my blood.

I never knew a person's scent would distract me so much that I forgot where I was and what was happening around me. It felt like the whole world melted away on my command, my senses fighting to detect the owner of the mysterious scent.

I suddenly didn't feel like crying anymore, a newly found sense of wonder piquing my curiosity and attention.

Did that scent perhaps belong to him? I couldn't help but think of that being a possibility.

A distant voice spoke some words I couldn't hear as I sank deep in thought, imagining the worst.

I didn't want to have high hopes for my first impression of him to avoid the disappointment that'd come if he didn't turn out to be what I hoped for.

Whatever he looked like was okay. What I feared was his reaction to me. Would he accept me? Would he treat me at least like a human being?

They must have skipped the vows or I just wasn't paying attention because the next thing I knew, the wedding officiant was asking the groom to kiss the bride.

The nerves returned vigorously, the colour draining from my face. I wasn't certain if it was the fear of revealing my face to him for the first time while he did the same or the fact that he wasn't taking any action and time was ticking.

Yes, we were strangers and skipping that kissing part wouldn't be too shocking, but why had it been announced if it wasn't part of the ceremony?

Guests began murmuring and my heart sank. I felt oddly embarrassed.

It felt like years before I felt movement, hands on the hem of my veil before slowly, the material was lifted off my face until it completely fell behind me.

My eyes were cast down at his shoes, my confidence and self-esteem hiding away in my most insecure sore spots.

I clutched onto the bouquet a little bit tighter, mustering every ounce of courage I had to face him.

My eyes slowly ascended his undoubtedly muscular build, the way the tailored black suit he wore suited him like a glove defining every masculine muscle and boasting a large dose of oozing testosterone.

I could almost see his abs ripping through the shirt clinging to his torso, failing to believe how someone could be so breath-taking before seeing his face.

I felt things I'd never imagined myself feeling for any man before, the urge to trace every muscle with my fingertips and feel him beneath my touch.

He was taller than me even with me in heels. I slowly lifted my eyes to his face, paying close attention to every feature from his sharp chiselled jaw, full lips, cheekbones and everything arranged on his face for a maximum striking effect.

His eyes were my final destination, completely taking me out and assaulting my senses with shivers.

They appeared icy blue just like his father's, but the more we held eye contact, the clearer the colour became to me. His eyes were grey, cold and void of emotion.

I could feel his aura from inches away from him, a loud scream of dominance, power and supremacy.

I felt my blood run cold and then hot at the same time in an inexplicable way. I didn't understand what I felt, but one thing was for sure, his appearance was a striking embodiment of devilish handsomeness.

He took a step close to me, maintaining intense eye contact as a flicker of emotion flashed through his eyes. I could call it shock, but he didn't give me enough time to decipher the feeling with his sudden actions.

His hand stretched towards my face, his fingertips lightly grazing my cheek and tracing their way to my hair, tucking strands lightly behind my ear.

His lips twitched like he wanted to kiss me.

Shit.

I dreaded this part because the few insignificant times I'd been kissed or rather nearly kissed had not exactly been consensual and made me feel sick and disgusted afterwards.

That had led to my choice of never giving anyone the liberty of kissing me without awakening the dead intimate feelings in me first and making me desire to be devoured, peeling off all the soft layers around me and unleashing the feisty vixen trapped inside me.

I swallowed hard, watching him take a step towards me, closing the gap between us and cupping my face fully.

Yes, he made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long while or actually never even without even touching or acknowledging me. Was that a sign?

Dominic's forehead pressed into mine and I parted my lips, breathing through my mouth lightly. Something was happening to me. Something unusual, alien, hypnotic and shocking.

I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to act first.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Sofia?"

Hearing his deep voice with my name rolling so silkily off his tongue had my stomach doing that fuzzy butterfly thing except I didn't feel just butterflies.

The entire goddamn zoo had taken over my stomach, tiny creatures crawling around while his voice caressed my ears like music.

Was he asking my permission to kiss me?

Some would call me stupid for being so dense and shocked by the bare minimum, but for someone like me who was used to having things forcefully stolen from me, this came as a big surprise.

I probably remained silent for too long, trying to digest everything, because the next thing I knew, his soft lips planted a feathery kiss on my cheek.

It was so light and pillowy that it almost wasn't even there, yet the warm sensation lingered long after he retracted his steps away from me, standing facing the crowd in a robotic stance.

Scattered claps resounded before growing more lively as I slowly turned to face the crowd, stealing a quick glance at Dominic first.

He looked cold and too out of reach.

Had I pissed him off already with my reluctance?

•Dominic•

"Where has that bastard Martel been hiding this precious gem for so long?" Teodoro ranted, washing down his fifth glass of vintage in one go.

With a deep controlled sigh, I slowly clenched my fist tightly, following his preying eyes.

Of course, he was looking at her as she wandered around the paid actors and actresses disguised as guests, worry lacing her face. I didn't want to imagine the horrendous things he'd already done with her in his deluded mind.

Even when clothed in black from head to toe, Sofia had an inexplicably dazzling ray of light radiating from her, a light I strongly felt alluded to her true self.

She just didn't exude the dark aura Teodoro strictly forced on her.

"Was black really necessary and that ravens' freak show with creatures crawling beneath her feet?" I grumbled, wandering my eyes back to the smirking man I was cursed to have as a father.

One would think the wedding was his since he'd singlehandedly been planning every step of his master plan carefully for weeks since the mysterious demise of Darius Martel.

Initially, the wedding truly was his to Darius' widow, Cayetana Martel, but out of the blue, he woke up feeling like I was of age to marry either of the Martel daughters and prove I had his blood running through my veins.

In all the twenty-six years of my life, I hadn't imagined myself marrying anyone anytime soon, that too, a woman like Sofia.

I was raised to be merciless, cold and heartless. Looking into those innocent milky pools of the most uncommonly striking green eyes I'd ever seen vividly reflected the delicate nature of the woman I'd just married.

She was a delicate flower, blooming, colourful and sweet-scented yet forcefully hoisted amidst bristly thorns.

One habitual harsh word in an endearing tone or malicious act towards her and I'd break her, freezing her heart completely with my coldness and turning her into the monster I was.

If I could, I'd rewrite her destiny myself and fate her with someone more deserving, but then again, the possessiveness seed was already sprouting somewhere deep inside and inaccessible. She was mine now and I had to deal with it one way or the other.

"Was giving her an embarrassingly insignificant peck on the cheek necessary when I clearly ordered a full-on make-out session at that altar, Dom?" Teodoro entreated gruffly, motioning at a waitress for a refill.

Taking another deep controlled sigh was inevitable. His orders had been clear, but a switch I never knew existed inside me flipped right there standing before Sofia, seconds away from devouring those full kiss-inspiring lips she boasted both out of curiosity of what she tasted like and to feed my rampant libido.

Asking for her consent first and waiting for her reply so patiently was living proof the vibrant woman's pull had an extraordinary catch to it. We hadn't even spoken to each other yet she was already fucking up my entire personality.

I suddenly became considerate and reasonable in a few seconds, looking into her eyes. It wouldn't be too surprising that would be her first kiss.

What right did I have to selfishly steal it from her at the altar right after a thousand other orders had already been shoved down her throat since the contract had been signed?

Freedom of choice and consent were the only gifts I could bestow upon her right now.

My sudden silence drew Teodoro to put his hand on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Look, Son," he chuckled. "Do not take this marriage as a death sentence. It's a gift wrapped with a perfect bow for you to enjoy. You just sit still, relax and let my plan unfold. Enjoy your wife. Use her roughly at your disposal and when you get bored of her, pass her on to your old man and I'll turn her into a Bernardi slave."

Veins throbbed in my neck, and my jaw clenched. My own father disgusted me so much I felt the same about myself because we had the same blood running through our veins. In one way or the other, I was his slave and would eventually completely turn into him as he desired.

"Sofia is my wife, Father, and there will never be a day we share a woman, never, so I would greatly appreciate a little bit of respect in your suggestions towards your daughter-in-law."

Teodoro laughed wickedly, receiving a freshly filled glass. "I would be madly possessive too if I were in your shoes, Dom," he rumbled, "but the way I treat Sofia depends on your loyalty and obedience to me, otherwise, Sofia Martel might become my next mistress and you very much know how capable I am."

I heavily pitied his wife, my stepmother, Olivia. How could anyone so kind and gentle love this wicked man despite his atrocities? Maybe because they had young children together?

"I'm leaving," I mumbled, pissed completely. His words worked me up completely and reminded me how deep his clutches had sunk inside me since I was a child.

"You're going straight to the airport with no detours, Dom," Teodoro ordered strictly. "Tell Sofia I said to enjoy her honeymoon, especially the first night," he spat venomously with an evil laugh.

I felt my blood boil as I walked away from him. He spoke as though he was certain I would hurt her and force myself on her. Would I?

Fuck.

The frustration, anger and confusion were choking and suffocating. Why did I have to marry her if she'd suffer at my hands?

I darted towards the black limousine taking us to the airport straight from the wedding reception, gruffly pulling off my bow tie and popping three top buttons open.

The bodyguard at the door opened it and I peeked inside, assessing the limousine. She wasn't in.

"Where's my wife?" I asked the bodyguards standing on either of my sides impatiently, casting my eyes forward at the guests mixing and mingling.

I couldn't see her and neither could I see Teodoro.

Fuck.

"Fucking find my wife this instant and bring her here safely!" I commanded angrily, losing my mind altogether.

Bodyguards in black suits scurried into the crowd, obeying my order.

I stood there, kicking the tyre of the limousine hard.

Fuck.

I had to find her myself otherwise I'd go completely insane.

"Where the fuck are you, Sofia?" I grunted through gritted teeth, bolting back inside the reception hall.

The number of guests suddenly seemed multiplied, lights dimmed and smog everywhere close to the floor. Finding her was kind of hard with everyone in black.

I almost took a deep sigh of relief when I saw the back view of a woman with long black hair, wearing exactly the same dress Sofia had worn for the reception.

"Sofia?" I called, grabbing her gently by the elbow to face me.

Shit.

Wasn't her. Who the fuck wore the exact same outfit as the bride to a wedding?

I continued looking around like a mad person, grasping at least three more women with replicas of Sofia's gown. Everything was beginning to feel sickeningly planned.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Had Teodoro taken and hurt her already to prove his point to me?

I felt a hand on my shoulder, pushing me to look back sharply with adrenaline pumping like open floodgates into my veins. I could hear my heart beat like drums inside my chest.

"Olivia?" I exhaled heavily, my eyes wandering around the room before i looked at her face.

Her makeup was different and a little bit extra. She was probably covering bruises.

"Her family wasn't in attendance and that must have upset her," she told me softly with a weak smile. "She should be in her changing room upstairs."

Indeed, I had neither seen Cayetana nor either of Sofia's sisters. Their absence had Teodoro written all over it.

"Thanks, Olivia," I said, already looking up at the clear floor upstairs. The floor was restricted to guests but anyone within the family could easily go upstairs.

Shit.

"Dominic?" Olivia called me before I could turn away from her.

I looked at her with cocked brows. "Yes?"

"I think Sofia is a really nice person and somewhere deep inside you lies one of the kindest and warmest men I've ever known," Olivia said sincerely. "You're not your father and his influence and morals have nothing on the choices you consciously make. Always remember that."

I felt her words heavily sink into my heart and the deepest parts she spoke of. No lies were detected. Deep down, I prayed I'd always remember that and not blame my upbringing for hurting innocent people.

I hurriedly climbed up the stairs to the second floor. I wasn't even sure which room Sofia had been changing in so I walked down the hallway, opening each and every room.

"Sofia?" I called, peeking inside. Empty.

Where the hell was she? Was she safe?

Please, be safe.

The result was the same in the next four bedrooms until I opened the fifth one.

"Sofia?" I called helplessly, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

My eyebrows creased, my face contorting with rage.

A familiar man sat on the bed with my not-so-legal little sister straddling him, while he shoved his tongue down her throat, grinding her hips roughly into his groin.

I stormed inside with a clenched fist, yanking Greta off him and grabbing him gruffly by his collar.

"Dom what the fuck?!" Greta yelled furiously, pulling down her dress. "Let him go!"

"She's sixteen, you asshole," I fumed, colliding my fist roughly with his face. "Get lost and you're fired."

I gave him another vengeful punch before he scurried out, grabbing his jacket in the process.

Greta got up from the bed, pushing me backwards by my shoulders. "I fucking hate you!" she shouted, her chest heaving up and down with anger. "You fucking tell Dad and-"

"You make out with a man a decade plus older than you again and act all rebellious and I'm letting him ship you off to a boarding school so get so shit together and stop being a fucking brat," I raged passionately, pointing a warning finger at her.

She raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist in time. "Now you're crossing the line," I warned her.

Greta writhed her hand forcefully out of my grip. "Fuck you, Dom," she cursed through gritted teeth before storming out of the room.

A perfect example of an angel turned into a little devil overnight. Sometimes it felt like she was too far gone to redeem and my heart broke on Olivia's behalf because she had to deal with half of her attitude every day.

Sofia wasn't turning into that. Not on my watch.

I resumed searching for her, drawing closer to the last room in the hallway.

My footsteps became softer as I approached the last room, soft muffled sniffles audible. Was she crying?

I walked to the door, gently pushing it wide open as it was already slightly opened.

From the doorway, I could see her seated on the cushioned stool in front of the dresser, hugging her knees. Her face was buried in her lap, her hair covering her face completely.

Soft sobs tore through her chest and somehow, those sounds of agony echoed into my heart.

I was relieved she was safe, but hearing her cry made me feel shitty for some reason.

She must have felt me looking at her as she stopped producing sounds, lifting her head slightly with her eyes cast at the door.

We accidentally made direct eye contact and she almost immediately averted her eyes from mine, swiping at them with her hands as she put her bare feet onto the ground.

"I've been looking for you," I spoke up, taking a step into the room as I watched her struggle to cover her eyes. "Are you okay, Sofia?" I asked her softly, slowly walking towards her.

Sofia briskly stumbled onto her feet, standing up straight and backing away from me slowly.

"I'm okay," she whispered, a fake smile touching her lips as she began fidgeting with her fingers.

She couldn't even look at me, her pretty eyes ruined, red and almost puffy.

Her face was almost completely flushed, lips visibly quivering. Did I frighten her that much?

I stood still a distance away from her, my gaze softly anchored on her as she looked at everything else but me.

"You're crying," I observed, unable to stop myself from moving closer to her. "What's wrong?"

Sofia took a deep shaky breath as if trying to calm herself before putting her hands on her sides, opening them wide and clenching one into a fist.

She finally lifted her glistened eyes to meet mine. "I-I thought I'd get a chance to say goodbye to my family," she murmured in a softly controlled tone, "but-but they didn't come," she stuttered, her shoulders dropping completely.

They had to be close otherwise she wouldn't get so emotional over not seeing them. I envied her.

No detours. Fuck it.

"I'll take you to your family," I told her. Anything to get her to stop crying.

"We'll miss the flight," she reasoned with a light sniffle and a fake smile. "It's okay. I can manage."

"Sofia, I own the airline and can delay the flight. Just say the word and it's done."

My words seemed to surprise her as she looked up at me. "Really? You can do that for me?"

Even I was surprised by my own lenience despite the probable consequences. She was my wife not some common woman from the street. I could make exceptions.

"Yes, Sofia. Really," I assured her.

A genuine smile touched her lips as she walked towards me, standing at least three feet away and finally looking into my eyes.

"I really really want to see my family, please," she begged. "Even if it's for a few minutes and I won't ask for anything else, I promise."

The desperation in her eyes was intense. I weirdly felt for her.

"As long as you stop crying," I conditioned.

Sofia's face became completely flushed and she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she murmured. "Stupid tears."

She sounded so embarrassed of herself, fully turning away from me and wiping away her tears. I wished I could tell her it was okay and she could cry if she really wanted to.

I wished I could comfort her, but I just didn't know how to without sounding like an emotionless dick.

Sofia plopped onto the cushioned stool, facing away from me as she grabbed her heels. "I'll quickly put these on," she informed me, looking over her shoulder briefly. "Just give me a second."

Sofia lifted her dress, revealing her feet. Her toes were red but she still tried to force her foot into the ridiculously shaped shoe undoubtedly designed to induce pain in the wearer.

Just how exactly had she managed to walk around flawlessly in those all evening and still wear a smile on her face?

I sauntered in front of her, crouching before her and grasping her gently by her wrist.

She looked at me quizzically. "Am I being too slow?" she asked in panic, averting her eyes from mine when she realised I was staring straight into her eyes.

"No," I replied firmly. "You don't need them if they're hurting your feet."

"Oh," she breathed, looking at her toes. "But I still need to walk out and they said the shoes were a strict necessity."

"They're not if I'm carrying you."

Without further ado, I scooped Sofia into my arms, taking her up with me.

What the fuck was I doing?

She gasped lightly, anchoring her hand on my shoulder for support. I didn't look at her. I didn't want to. I just fucking couldn't although I could feel her eyes burning into my face.

What did she see when she looked at me? The monster I was or the false mask of her husband trying not to scare her away completely?

"I'm really heavy," she murmured, worry lacing her voice. "Please, put me down."

I didn't stop walking, moving my eyes boldly to hers. "No, you're not," I told her truthfully, "and even if you were, I'm strong enough to carry my wife in any shape and size."

Sofia stared widely into my eyes before doing something clearly neither of us expected.

She hiccupped.