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.