MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING

The silence in the car was suffocating. My dress itched. My hands trembled in my lap. And Dominic Moretti sat beside me like a statue carved from ice and war.

He hadn't said a word since we left the reception. Not when I stumbled in heels during our exit. Not when I shivered in the cold. Not even when I refused to take his arm.

Now, inside the gates of his estate, everything felt too still. Too quiet. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

A guard opened the car door for me, and Dominic stepped out first.

Then he turned, offering me his hand.

I stared at it.

"I can walk," I muttered.

He didn't lower it. "I wasn't asking."

I placed my hand in his, and his grip closed around mine. Firm. Controlled. Possessive.

Inside, the house smelled like cedar and smoke. Dark floors, colder shadows, and more marble than warmth.

This wasn't a home.

It was a fortress.

He led me up the stairs, through a corridor too grand and too quiet, until we stopped at a door with silver handles.

"Our room," he said simply.

Our.

My stomach twisted.

He opened the door, revealing a bedroom wrapped in gold and ash. A fireplace flickered. A massive bed sat like a throne. And beside it — silence.

I stepped in, afraid to breathe too loudly.

Dominic closed the door behind us. No lock. Just a quiet finality.

I turned to face him. "Is this the part where you undress me?"

His gaze didn't waver. "No."

I blinked. "No?"

He stepped forward, removing his watch, placing it on the nightstand like this was any ordinary night. "I'm not here to force you, Serena."

"Since when does that matter to you?" My voice cracked. "You own me now. Isn't that the point?"

He looked at me then. Really looked. "I didn't marry you to break you."

I laughed bitterly. "No? Then why? Power? Blood? A trophy?"

He closed the distance between us, his voice low. Deadly. "I married you because it keeps you alive."

I froze.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear.

"And because if any other man had you, Serena… I'd bury him before sunrise."

I couldn't breathe.

He stepped back like he hadn't just carved the threat into my bones.

"Sleep wherever you want," he said, pulling off his jacket. "But know this. I won't touch you. Not until you beg me to."

Then he disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

The fire popped once in the silence. My eyes burned.

I grabbed my phone from my clutch and sat on the edge of the bed, dialing the only number that made sense in that moment.

Elara picked up immediately.

"Serena? You're okay?"

I swallowed. "He didn't touch me."

There was silence on the line.

"He just left. Went into the bathroom like… like this is some kind of normal night."

Elara exhaled. "Maybe he's not the monster we thought."

"Or maybe monsters wear suits and play games first."

Before she could respond, there was a soft knock at the door. I wiped my eyes quickly as a maid stepped inside, lowering her gaze respectfully.

"Ma'am. Dinner is ready. Mr. Moretti asked that you be escorted to the dining hall."

I nodded, ending the call.

Dinner.

Dinner after everything? After this?

I followed the maid downstairs, every step echoing louder than the last.

The dining room was bathed in gold. A long table, crystal glasses, untouched wine. And Dominic. Sitting at the head like he was born to command it all.

I sat where the maid gestured.

No words. No warmth. Just silverware clinking and the sharp awareness of every movement he made.

Food was served. I barely touched mine. My throat was too tight, my skin too cold.

He ate like nothing was wrong. Like we weren't strangers bound by a curse called marriage.

Every second at that table felt like I was performing in a play I hadn't auditioned for.

And all I wanted was to escape the stage.

**********

The clink of silverware had long faded, but the taste of silence still coated my tongue.

Dominic stood first, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin like a man finishing a business meeting, not a wedding dinner.

"I have calls to make," he said. "You're free to roam. Just... don't leave the estate."

There it was again, that edge of possession wrapped in velvet. A cage disguised as courtesy.

I didn't answer. Just watched as he walked away, disappearing down one of the countless halls like the shadows belonged to him.

Alone again.

I rose slowly, unsure where to go. The house stretched endlessly around me, cold corridors, intimidating art, antique silence. No warmth. No familiarity.

Eventually, my feet led me to a glass door near the end of the hallway. A terrace. I pushed it open.

The night air hit me like a whisper. Gentle. Real.

Beyond the marble balcony, the estate stretched out like a kingdom. Moonlight spilled over the trimmed hedges and tall trees. Somewhere in the distance, a fountain murmured.

It should've been beautiful.

But all I felt was weight.

I sat on a stone bench and let the wind play with the loose strands of my hair. My gown pooled around me, expensive and stiff, another reminder of the life I hadn't chosen.

Somewhere inside this fortress, Dominic was probably behind a desk, making threats in multiple languages or brokering power over a glass of scotch.

And here I was, the bride with no say, the pawn cloaked in silk and rage.

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe past the ache in my chest.

"Cold?"

I startled.

Dominic stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in one hand. His expression unreadable, but his voice… softer than before.

I shook my head, even though goosebumps danced down my arms.

He stepped forward and draped the jacket over my shoulders anyway.

"I told you I wouldn't touch you," he said, standing above me, his hands already retreating.

"This doesn't count?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He met my eyes. "No. This is… habit."

I looked away, but his scent lingered in the jacket — smoke and something darker.

He didn't leave right away. Just stood there like he was trying to say something but had never learned how.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"You called someone earlier."

I stiffened.

"Elara," I said. "She's my best friend."

He nodded once. "If you ever want her here, I can arrange it."

I looked up at him, surprised.

"Why?" I asked. "So I won't hate you?"

He didn't flinch. "So you won't feel alone."

And with that, he walked away again, vanishing into the house, into his world of silence and power.

I stayed outside a while longer, clutching his jacket tighter.

It didn't warm me.

But it made it harder to cry.