My Mafia gay Husband

ano stared blankly through the tinted glass, her fingers clenched around the bouquet of white roses in her lap. They felt heavy, like

ked, his voice laced with a desp

cruel, unfeeling-a man who didn't even want her. But she couldn't say any of that, not when her father's eyes were filled with

ed, her voice bare

d away, unable to meet her eyes. "This will secu

marriage that would seal an alliance and settle the score. What no one spoke of, what they all pretended not to notice, was the glaring fact: Damien Salvatore was gay. The mafi

r heart seized in her chest. The estate loomed like a beast in the storm, its dark silho

ut. She hesitated, casting one last look at her father, who sat

murmured, but he di

ite dress trailing behind her like a ghost. She felt the w

was thick with the scent of roses and cigar smoke, a strange, unsettling combination that made her stomach ch

resence. It was as if she were invisible, as if this moment-

voice a low, cold drawl that

rd. "I came as qu

ce that could have been sculpted from marble-sharp jawline, high cheekbones, dark, piercing eyes that seemed to see right throu

dismissive scan, and his lips curl

again, forcing herse

He loomed over her, his presence ov

s tone, but she didn't back down. "This

dened. "Isn'

marriage wasn't about love or even lust-it was about power, control

e agreed to, Aria?" he asked, hi

ng her shoulders. "I know you did

e, or amusement. "You know nothing," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned

tween them. The priest, who had been standing off to the side, cleared

priest asked, glancing

, curtly. "Let's g

lipped the ring onto her finger, his touch impersonal, almost mechanical. He didn't look at her

usband and wife, Damien didn't kiss her. Instead,

after him, her voice cracking with

back at her, his expression unreadable.

here, a ring on her finger, alone on what wa

name only, bound to a man who couldn't care less if she disappeared off the face of th

him break her.