Chapter 4 THE WEDDING TRAP

Adeline’s POV

The moment I opened my eyes, I knew today wasn’t mine. The weight of it pressed down on my chest like an iron hand.

But then Annabelle burst into my room, black roses clutched in her hands, squealing. Her joy was a light I couldn’t snuff.

“It’s your wedding day, Addy!” she cried, tossing petals into the air like confetti. “Kayden Gravano’s bride. The whole city will whisper your name.”

I didn’t tell her it would be whispered in fear. Or pity.

She shoved the roses into my hands. Black, velvet-soft. A Gravano bride didn’t wear white. She wore shadow. She wore power. She wore the kind of beauty that turned every head in the room but warned every soul not to touch. And I was about to step into that skin.

The stylists came next, arms laden with silks and lace. They were chatter and perfume, laughter and squeals — not hardened soldiers, but women who didn’t know the danger in this house. Every brushstroke of lipstick felt like a ritual, every clasp of a jewel a chain.

“Try this one,” Annabelle urged, pulling out a gown dripping with onyx sequins.

“Too gaudy,” I said. “I’m not a chandelier.”

Another held up a sleek silk slip. Sexy, yes — but too bare, too surrendering.

“No,” I said again, firmer this time.

And then I saw it. A gown that gleamed like midnight. Long lace sleeves hugged the arms, the bodice fitted tight, the neckline plunged daringly. The skirt flowed in dark, liquid silk, heavy enough to command attention, light enough to move like smoke.

“That one,” I said.

“Addy—” Annabelle’s cheeks flushed.

“That one.”

When they slipped it onto me, I knew. It wasn’t a cage. It was a weapon. Exotic, daring, a gown that whispered both temptation and danger in the same breath.

Jewels followed — a necklace of black diamonds dipping low into the neckline, silver cuffs at my wrists. My hair twisted into an elegant updo, stray curls falling loose on purpose. Lips painted crimson, sinful.

When the last pin slid into place, Annabelle pressed her hands to her mouth, tears in her eyes.

“You’re… you’re not just beautiful. You’re terrifying.”

Good, I thought.

The door opened without a knock. It never did with him.

Kayden stepped inside, black suit molding to his body like second skin, tie loosened as if he’d strangled it into submission.

His gaze landed on me, and he froze.

He didn’t speak at first. Eyes dragging down my body, lingering on the plunge of the neckline, the sweep of silk, the red of my lips. His throat worked, jaw tightening.

“You’ll cause a war walking in like that,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

I lifted my chin. “Maybe that’s the point.”

His eyes burned. Possessive. Hungry. Dangerous. He stepped closer, hand brushing my hip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing if I was real.

I stiffened, letting him feel the heat of my defiance. I would not yield completely, not here, not now.

Outside, the city waited. Guests whispered, eyes full of curiosity and caution. Each step down the aisle was measured, every sway of my skirt calculated. I gave them a smile—sharp, controlled, lethal.

Russio appeared at the side, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. His presence alone radiated danger, but I offered him nothing. No acknowledgment, just a controlled, dangerous calm. He scowled. Excellent. Let him stew.

Kayden leaned close as we reached the altar, voice low, meant only for me. “Remember,” he said, teeth brushing my ear, “every eye on you, every heart in this room—mine first. You obey, or someone pays.”

I didn’t flinch. Lips curled into a faint, controlled smile. “I’ll play the part,” I whispered, “but the war has only just begun.”

The ceremony itself was a performance. I smiled, nodded, murmured vows I didn’t feel. Every whisper of admiration, every gaze upon me, I turned into armor. Kayden’s hand was firm at my back, possessive, reminding me of the invisible leash around my life.

After the formalities, the reception began. Guests flocked to see the “Gravano bride,” commenting on the gown, my hair, my jewels. But I noticed the subtle signs of surveillance—the silent men at the edges of the room, the faint messages buzzing on my phone, a shadow in every reflection. I wasn’t free. Not for a single moment.

Russio moved closer, murmuring politely but his eyes sharp. “The bride exceeds expectation,” he said, tone smooth, but I sensed the challenge in his words. I smiled faintly, eyes meeting his with just enough edge to let him know I wasn’t to be underestimated.

Kayden caught the glance and pressed a whisper to my ear. “You’re mine. Every step, every look. Don’t forget.”

I shivered, not with fear, but with controlled rage. “I know,” I said softly, forcing the words into a whisper, a promise, a lie.

Later, alone in his penthouse, the city lights stretched below me like veins of power and control. The gown was folded neatly, jewels set aside, but the weight of what I had agreed to didn’t leave. Every strategy I had, every plan for freedom, had been anticipated. Every step mapped.

Kayden entered without a knock. He leaned against the doorway, dark eyes assessing. “Beautiful,” he said, voice low. “Terrifying. Exactly what a Gravano bride should be.”

I let a bitter smile play at my lips. “And exactly what I am,” I replied.

He stepped closer, hand brushing mine, fingers lingering. “Remember,” he murmured, voice dangerous, “pretend to be a loving wife… or someone pays.”

I pressed back just slightly, a faint defiance in my stance. “Long enough to survive,” I whispered. Inside, the fire of rebellion roared.

The city hummed below, unaware of the war brewing in this penthouse. One year. That’s all I had. One year to endure, to survive, to find leverage. And I would. I had to.

Kayden’s hand lingered at my waist. Eyes locked. Power, possession, challenge and the game had only just begun.