His Promised Chaste Bride

Alessia

"Are you sure about this, Alessia? We can go back if you're getting cold feet about your decision," Livia whispers in my ear.

I can't believe what she's saying right now. We agreed on this before we even left the house.

So I glare at her. "You can go back if you don't want to be here," I snapped, with a sharp voice.

The neon light reflects on her wide eyes as she stares at the building, Then she looks back at me, with a grin slowly spreading on her face.

"No way! Let's do it, girl. I've been waiting for a night like this," she says in excitement.

I take a deep breath. Tonight, I am not just Alessia, I am a regular girl at a club, ready to drown my sorrows in loud music and strong drinks. Even if it only numbs the pain for a while.

I know I should turn back. My dad is going to be furious when he finds out about this.

But do I care? No.

Not when my heart is shattered into pieces. Not when I can't bring myself to feel anything except this unbearable ache.

Tonight, I just want to forget.

The two guards standing outside with an unreadable expression he push the door open without a word,

With Livia right behind me, I make my way to the bar, my heels clicking against the floor. But as I get closer, a small voice in my head whispers, 'This is a big mistake.'

Being the only daughter of Leonardo Rossini the head of one of the most powerful mafia families in Italy sucks.

People think it's glamorous, but they don't see the chains. They don't understand that my life is never my own.

I can't make a fucking move without being watch by someone from the shadows.

They are there, when I cry, when I laugh, when I breathe. It feels so suffocating like there's no escape.

I scan the room, the dim light and the thick haze of smoke curls in the air.

I watch as women dance around poles, as their bodies move to the heavy beat of the music.

Men are not left out they sit at tables, watching, drinking, whispering with the scent of alcohol and expensive cigars in the air.

The ear-piercing music playing drowns the voice in my head screaming that this is a bad idea.

Without a word I turned to the waiter. He understands. He places a bottle of alcohol and two glasses in front of us before disappearing into the crowd.

Livia wastes no time. She twists off the lid, pouring the golden liquid into our glasses. Her hands tremble slightly as she looks around.

"We can take this and leave. What if someone recognizes you?" She says with a tight voice.

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "No one will, Livi." I pick up my glass, I slowly twirl the liquid before taking a sip. The burn is sharp, but I welcome it.

"Relax Livia, my father has kept me locked away my whole life, no one knows what I look like."

She sighs, as she scans the room as if someone is about to jump out any minute and drag us home. "I think he's just trying to protect you from his world," she says softly.

I shake my head with a scoff. "Protect me?" I repeat. "You mean to make me invisible? Keep me locked away like some secret he's too ashamed to let the world see?"

Livia didn't argue. She just stares at me with something I can't stand. 'Pity.'

That's all anyone ever does. Look at me with pity.

I let out a sharp breath as I try to push down the lump rising in my throat. Tonight, I don't want pity. I don't want thoughts of my father and his world.

Tonight, I just want to be different.

My heart feels tight in my chest as if it's being squeezed from the inside.

I think about Marco, my ex-boyfriend; I thought he loved me as much as I loved him. But no. He chose someone else. He couldn't choose me. And to make it worse, he didn't just leave, he breaks my fragile heart completely with his words.

"I never felt anything for you."

The memory of his voice etched on my mind and it feels like a knife twisting my heart. My throat tightens, and I barely hear myself over the loud music as I whisper, 'He never loved me.'

And just when I thought I'm healing from that heartbreak, my father dropped a bombshell on me last night. He didn't ask. He didn't care. He simply decided my fate for me.

In two days, I am getting married.

Livia watches me carefully, with sympathy. "Alessia, your father has your best interests at heart," she says gently.

"You know he was never going to approve of your relationship with Marco. In your world, love doesn't matter. It has to be arranged."

I clench my fists, as my nails dig into my palms. She's right. I know that. But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less.

I reach for the glass in front of me, desperate to drown the ache clawing at my chest. But before I can grab it, Livia tries to pull it away.

I shoot her a glare.

She hesitates but later leaves it, while she watches as I lift the glass to my lips.

I gulp it down in one go, the burning liquid scorching my throat. But I didn't stop. I need the pain to go numb.

"My father only cares about allying with his enemies. To him, this marriage is nothing more than a strategy. A way to gain power. To expand his territory."

"He's doing it so Vincenzo will be a strong ally when rival gangs come for us. As long as I play my role as his loyal wife, he wins."

With a trembling hand I slam the empty glass down on the table. Livia didn't say a word. She just keeps looking at me with that same expression.

Pity.

She knows every word I'm saying is true.

Without any interruption, I gulp down the alcohol, glass after glass, until the ache in my chest is dulls. For the first time tonight, I can breathe without feeling like I'm going to break down.

But beneath the temporary relief, the truth remains, I don't know where I stand in my own life. I don't have the freedom to choose anything. Not my future. Not my happiness. Not even the man I will spend the rest of my life with.

Everything about me has already been decided.

My vision starts to blur, the room swaying in and out of focus. The heavy beat of the music thrums in my veins, syncing with my heartbeat.

My senses are heightened, every sound becomes sharper, every light brighter. Everything around me moves in slow motion, as if the world is spinning but I am standing still.

Suddenly, something pulls me from my haze.

I lift my head, scanning the room, and my gaze falls on a man sitting alone in the corner of the club. His back is to me, his shoulder is broad and unmoving, as if he doesn't belong here.

He must have felt my eyes on him because, at that exact moment, he turned.

Our eyes meet from across the room.

A strange, electric pulse shoots through my body, making my breath hitch. My skin prickles, my nerves light up, and I shudder under his stare. It's intense but I can't look away.

Something about him draws me in, and before I can stop myself, my body moves on its own.

The alcohol has started to take its toll. I know it. I can feel it.

I push up from my seat too fast, with my shaky legs. The floor tilts, and for a second, I stagger. But after a deep breath, I steady myself.

And then, without a second thought, I make my way toward him.

Alessia

I move closer, trying to get a clearer look at him, but it's dark making it impossible to see him fully.

The dim lighting casts flash patterns across his face, keeping him hidden.

I shake off the drowsiness clouding my mind and take a few more steps forward. An empty chair sits across from him, so without thinking, I slump into it, my limbs heavy from the alcohol.

Slowly, he lifts his head.

Our gaze locks studying me like he's trying to piece something together.

My breath catches in my throat.

There's a deep, jagged scar that runs from beneath his left eye down to just under his ear. Instead of making him look rough, it only adds to his untamed, dangerous sex appeal.

My eyes drift lower, down to his neck.

A dragon tattoo.

The moment I see it, my body tenses.

He didn't flinch under my stare.

He is breathtaking-mysterious, dark, and dangerously sexy. Every inch of him radiates strength, from his broad shoulders to the way his muscles flex under his shirt.

There's something raw and powerful about him, something that sends desires down my clits

I swallow hard, my throat dry. My gaze is fixed on his onyx eyes, so dark as they blend into the shadows.

But there's something eerily familiar.

I narrow my eyes.

A certain family carries this unique trait.

"Are you from the Amalfi Coast?" My words come out slurred as I lean in, my face moving dangerously close to his.

His expression remains unreadable.

Onyx eyes are the symbol of a powerful bloodline from Amalfi Coast, in Campania. And that's exactly where my father has arranged for me to be married in two days.

His gaze drops slowly, deliberately, from my lips down to my heaving chest; it stays at my neck before meeting my eyes again.

Heat flares in my belly, spreading through me like wildfire. I stiffen, my pulse racing as his stare holds me in place.

Why do I feel this electrifying pull toward a stranger?

"You shouldn't be here," he says, his deep baritone voice sending a pool of desires down my cunt making me shudder.

Then, after a brief pause, he adds, "But I'm curious... Why do you care, young lady?"

His penetrating gaze locks on mine, studying me.

Why does he feel so familiar?

I can't stop myself. The question slips from my lips before I can think. "Have we met before?"

My vision blurs again, the alcohol clouding my senses. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it only makes the room tilt.

"You should go home," he murmurs, leaning in slightly, his warm breath fanning my cheek.

I gulp, my stomach twisting into knots. My throat feels tight like something is lodged there, but I can't look away from him.

But something about his eyes keeps me frozen in place.

He is intimidating, not just because of the way his muscles flex beneath his black shirt, but because of the way he watches me. Like he already knows my deepest thoughts.

He notices me drinking him in-his lips twitch into a smirk, revealing full, sinful lips.

My heart slams against my ribs.

He looks like temptation itself. Like a god carved from sin.

Then, he rises to his feet.

He is tall. His presence is overwhelming.

He takes a step toward me, and my eyes roam his body-his strong, built frame, the veins that pulse in his arms, and the way his black shirt clings to his sculpted chest.

I flush crimson red as an image flashes in my mind-his body against mine, tangled under the sheets, in heat

'No.'

I shake my head, trying to banish the thought. I shouldn't be thinking about this. Not with a stranger.

But then he takes another step closer.

I stop breathing.

My hand moves on its own, pressing against his solid chest to create some space between us. But it doesn't help. If anything, the contact makes it worse. His body is warm against my touch.

His lips hover dangerously close to mine, and then, With a single finger, he brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his touch featherlight.

A shock of pleasure shoots through me, tingling from my neck down to my toes. My knees go weak, turning to jelly.

The alcohol must be messing with my brain.

It has to be the alcohol.

"Why are you here?" His voice is low, almost a whisper, as his fingers trail down my cheek, tracing the curve of my jaw with a slow touch.

"I... I don't-" My voice is tangled in a haze of alcohol and something far more dangerous.

A smirk tugs at his lips. "I know what you're thinking," he murmurs, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. "You want me to take you. To make you forget."

I suck in a sharp breath, shaking my head slowly. No. But even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

"Out of all the men in this club, you came to me." He leans in, his breath warm against my lips. "You want me to make you feel good." His voice is smooth, rich, rugged, and dangerous.

Heat floods my body, and I can't stop myself from nodding. "Yes," I whisper, barely recognizing my voice.

What is wrong with me?

This is madness.

My father has arranged my future and chosen a man I have never met to be my husband. But right now, at this moment, I don't care. I don't want to think about duty or obligations. I just want to feel something other than this aching emptiness.

"You want me," he chuckles, his lips hovering just above mine, drawing me in without even touching me.

"Just for tonight," I breathe. "Make me forget."

Without saying a word, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms. Instinctively, my hands move around his neck, my head resting against his chest.

A shiver runs through me as warmth radiates from his body, his scent smoky and intoxicating wraps around me like a spell.

He carries me through the dimly lit hallway, he kicks open a door before stepping inside.

Oh God. What am I doing?

My heart hammers against my ribs as he lowered me onto a plush bed. The room is dark, but his presence fills every inch of it.

He studies me, with a deep gaze. "Are you sure about this?" His voice is softer now but still edged with something dangerous.

I lift my eyes to his-onyx black, endless. My gaze drifts to his full tempting lips.

There is something about this man that pulls me in. Something more than just attraction. He carries an air of mystery, a coldness that should make me run, but instead, it makes me want.

He leans closer, his heat pressing against me, his gaze pinning me in place.

"Remember," he murmurs, gripping the back of my head gently, his fingers tangling in my hair. "You asked for this."

Then, his lips crash against mine.

A shock of pleasure shoots through me as the kiss deepens, urgent and consuming. My mind shuts down, lost in the sensation.

His hands roam, exploring, setting fire to every inch of me. My body responds to him in ways I never imagined possible, every nerve alight with a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

I gasp against his lips as his fingers skim my back, slowly unzipping my dress. My skin prickles under his touch, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

His palm slides over my body, with a firm claiming grip. My thighs press together as heat pools down my clit.

Then, he stills.

His lips brush against mine as he whispers, "Do you know who I am?"

His words are like a warning I should heed.

But I am already too far gone.

Alessia

'Why does he want me to know him?' I think in my head. He grips my hair, his other hand grazing my breast, making me gasping for air. It's maddening; the way his touch makes me lose my self-esteem.

What if knowing him changes everything? What if, after tonight, I can't stay away? The thought stays in my mind, but I shove it aside.

"I don't want to know you," I murmur breathlessly, with a trembling voice. "I just want you to make me feel good, only for tonight."

My body shudders, and his fingers trail to my exposed neck. My feeble hands grasp at his muscles, desperate to hold on to him my thoughts race with wild fantasies.

He pulls the thin fabric of my gown down until it falls away, leaving me bare before him.

His fingers graze the underside of my breasts, and I moan shamelessly, unable to stifle the sound.

With a bruising force, his lips crashed against mine, stealing the air from my lungs.

My body pressed against his, as his hands explored me with a relentless hunger.

I can't think, can't breathe, and I don't want to. All I know is him-his touch, his scent, his overwhelming presence.

I know I'm not thinking straight. I know I should run-because, for fuck sake, I don't even know this man.

And here I am, throwing caution to the wind and letting him burn me to ash as he drives me into a frenzy I'll likely regret.

I force my eyes open and meet his heated gaze.

It's intense, almost suffocating. Before I can think, he pushes me down onto the bed with a deliberate force, as he hovers over me.

My heart pounds in my chest, climbing into my throat as I truly see him for the first time.

He has a dark aura, it's a strange combination of danger and ethereal beauty that makes him irresistible.

His masculine beauty is captivating, so much so that it feels as if my senses have been stolen away.

His hands move to my thighs, sending a shiver racing through me, my sensitive nipples brushing against his shirt makes me gasp.

His touch slides lower, his fingers teasing the edge of my panties.

'Oh my God. This is happening.'

I can't think, can't breathe, as his fingers slide inside me, I let out a sharp gasp.

The sensation is overwhelming. But then, he quickly pulls his fingers away, leaving me craving for his touch.

What is he doing to me? Why can't I stop craving more?

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, my core craves the return of his touch.

This isn't me Alessia, the pampered princess who's spent her life confined in a lavish, heavily guarded mansion.

I'm sure it's the alcohol clouding my mind, making me reckless and vulnerable in ways I've never known.

He slides my panties down with ease, his powerful frame settling between my legs. He kisses me in a way that his life depends on it.

Before I can process what's happening, he pulls off his shirt, and my breath hitches at the sight of his sculpted chest. His hands fumble briefly with the zipper of his trousers.

Then I feel him hard sliding against my wet folds, teasing me.

"Look at me while I make you feel so good," he commands, his voice deep and raw, spreading warmth through me.

I obey, opening my eyes to meet his gaze blazing with fury and wild hunger making my heart race.

"I've never-" I start to say, but the words are stolen from me as he pushes inside roughly.

Pain shoots through me, forcing me to clench my teeth as I struggle to take back control of my body. It's overwhelming, the mixture of pain and the undeniable pull of his presence.

Though I writhe in pain, I want this, so I grip the sheets tightly, biting my lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape; then he pushes harder roughly.

'Shit, this hurts like hell.'

"I'll fuck you and make you feel so good tonight," he growls, his voice raw with desire.

With one final thrust, he pushes all of himself inside me. The pain begins to ebb, replaced by an intense pleasure that makes me numb to everything but him.

"So tight... and wet," he groans, his voice with raw hunger. His pace quickens, each thrust harder and more deliberate.

I tense as I tighten my body around him, caught between the sensations of pain and pleasure.

I should tell him to stop. I should... But the pleasure he's giving me is more than the pain.

Sparks of electricity course through my body, leaving me trembling and lost in the overwhelming sensations.

He thrusts faster, harder until everything blurs. His low groans echo in the room, igniting a frenzy of satisfaction I've never experienced before.

His lips trace my skin, leaving a burning trail down my neck, shoulders, and breasts. His hands hold me in place as he takes me without hesitation.

Something in me stirs, tightening with every thrust. It feels like I'm on the edge of breaking under him. I close my eyes, and I welcome it.

Then, I shatter, a scream tearing from my lips as the pleasure crashes over me. But he didn't stop.

My mind screams at me to end this, to walk away, that I'm done... but the thought of his pleasure, of what he's taking from me, is intoxicating.

I want to give him everything. I want him to feel this too, to lose himself in me the way I'm losing myself in him.

He flips me onto my stomach, sliding back inside swiftly, leaving me breathless.

The stretch burns, but it feels so incredibly good, the pain transforming into something I can't resist.

I only regain a semblance of clarity when I feel his lips grazing my neck; he is going to leave a Hickey that sends a sharp thrill through my body.

Then, a strange force pulses inside my head, and I scream, before the warmth of his release floods me.

I try to cling to my thoughts, but the pressure in my head makes it impossible to focus. Every effort to concentrate slips away.

His breath is hot near my ear and makes me dizzy; the warmth and the sound of his panting mix with the throbbing pressure in my head.

My mouth goes slack as my body becomes heavy, my limbs feeling like they're giving away. I reach for the pillow, but it slips from my grasp.

The world around me blurs, slipping into the edges of unconsciousness.

"You're..." His voice is deep and full of anger, whispering in my ear.

I gasp one last time, trying desperately to hold on to consciousness, but it's futile. I'm feeling incredibly sleepy...

"You."

He laughs. I struggle to keep my eyes open, but suddenly everything fades into darkness.

"You should have asked for my name. My name is..." he says, his voice distant, just before I lose all my senses.