Chapter 2 The Wedding Day

• They say weddings are supposed to be beautiful.
• Mine felt like a funeral.
• The cathedral was drowning in flowers, orchids spilling from tall crystal vases, roses lined in perfect arrangements down the aisle, candles flickering like stars. Strangers whispered,expensive perfumes filled the air, but none of it softened the weight pressing against my chest.
• I should have felt like a bride. I felt like a prisoner.
• My dress was heavy, suffocating—a gown of lace and satin that belonged to someone who had chosen this life, not to me. Every stitch reminded me of my father’s words last night, the ones that still echoed inside me like a curse. She’s yours.
• I clutched the bouquet so tightly that the stems bruised in my hands. I tried to breathe, but even the air here felt bought and paid for.
• When the music began and the doors opened, I forced my feet to move. The crowd turned to watch me, and every step felt like I was walking toward my own execution.
• And then I saw him.
• Dominic Kane stood at the altar in a black suit so sharp it could have cut glass. His broad shoulders filled the space, his posture too rigid and commanding. His jaw was carved in stone, lips pressed in a line that betrayed nothing. He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften. He didn’t look like a man about to marry.
• But his eyes—God, his eyes.
• Dark brown and piercing, they locked onto me the moment I appeared at the end of the aisle. The weight of his stare burned through my skin, cold and merciless. It terrified me.
• And yet, shamefully, it fascinated me too.
• I had never been looked at like that before. Not as a woman. Not as something to be claimed.
• My father’s hand was on my arm, guiding me forward, his grip tight, as though I might run. The pews blurred around me. The whispers blended into one low hum. My entire world narrowed to the man at the altar and the cage waiting for me there.
• When we reached the steps, my father didn’t kiss my cheek or whisper comfort. He placed my hand in Dominic’s as though handing over a business contract. His fingers trembled; Dominic’s didn’t.
• Dominic’s hand was warm, his grip firm, almost bruising. I swallowed hard, staring at our joined hands, at the chain invisible but undeniable that locked me to him.
• The priest began to speak, his words flowing like background noise. We are gathered here today… to join…
• I didn’t hear him. Not really. I heard my own heartbeat slamming against my ribs. I heard the rush of blood in my ears.
• Dominic didn’t look at the priest. He looked at me. The entire time.
• As if daring me to defy him.
• When it came time for the vows, Dominic spoke first. His voice was deep, steady, carrying through the cathedral like a command.
• “I do.”
• Two words. No hesitation. No emotion.
• Then it was my turn. My throat closed. For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t be able to speak at all. I wanted to scream, to say no, to throw the bouquet at his chest and run down the aisle.
• But when I looked up, his dark brown eyes pinned me in place. Cold. Unforgiving.
• If I said no, what then? My father had made it clear: this wasn’t just about me. This was about debts and survival, about blood spilled and more blood threatened. If I defied Dominic Kane in front of all these people, I wouldn’t just be destroying myself. I would be destroying my family.
• I closed my eyes for the briefest moment, let the tears burn without falling, and whispered, “I do.”
• The words tasted like poison.
• The kiss came next.
• Dominic didn’t lean in slowly. He didn’t give me a chance to prepare. He took. His hand cupped the back of my neck, his lips pressed hard against mine, a kiss that wasn’t tender or sweet but a claim, a brand.
• The cathedral erupted in applause, but all I heard was the pounding of my heart and the clash of two truths: I hated him, and yet something inside me responded to that fire, that dominance, in a way I didn’t want to understand.
• When he pulled back, I gasped for breath, my lips tingling, my knees weak. His expression didn’t change. No smile. No warmth. Just those unreadable eyes staring straight through me.
• The reception blurred together like a dream I wanted to wake from. Crystal lights glistened above the ballroom. Music played. Guests laughed and drank champagne. I sat beside Dominic at the long table, the perfect bride on display, while he ignored me completely.
• People came to toast us, but their words fell flat. They toasted power, alliances, protection. Not love. Never love.
• Every so often, I felt his gaze on me again, sharp as a knife. When I dared to meet it, something flickered there—something dark and dangerous. It terrified me but pulled me closer.
• I hated that it pulled me closer.
• Hours passed. Dancers filled the floor. Laughter echoed through the hall. Dominic rose eventually, murmured something to one of his men, and without a word to me, he left. Just like that.
• The groom. My husband. Gone.
• I sat frozen, my fingers digging into the lace of my gown. People noticed. Whispers spread. The Ice Groom. The Caged Bride. I could feel their eyes on me, pitying and mocking me at the same time
• I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t. I sat there, silent, humiliated, a porcelain doll on display.
• When the night finally ended, I was led to the car. The city lights blurred past the window as we drove to his mansion, my new prison. Dominic didn’t speak. I didn’t either. The silence was louder than gunfire.
• When the car stopped, I followed him up the steps. The house loomed above me, vast and cold. Inside, chandeliers glittered, staircases spiraled upward, hallways stretched endlessly. It was beautiful but suffocating.
• Dominic led the way down one hall, then stopped before a heavy door. He opened it, revealing a vast bedroom with silk sheets, a fireplace and a view of the city.
• My heart pounded. My hands shook.
• He didn’t step inside.
• He turned to me, his expression carved from ice, and said, “This is your room.”
• Confusion rushed through me. “Mine?”
• He nodded once, his eyes flicking over me with chilling indifference. “Any questions you have, ask the staff. Not me.”
• Before I could respond, before I could beg, argue, or scream, he turned and walked away.
• The door shut in my face.
• I stood there, trembling, my wedding gown heavy as chains. My husband had abandoned me on our wedding night without a glance back.
• And yet, as I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, pressing my fists to my eyes to hold back tears, one image kept burning in my mind:
• His stare.
• Those piercing dark brown eyes, cold and merciless, that terrified me… and fascinated me all the same.