THE MAFIA KING'S REBELLIOUS BRIDE

Chapter 4

The day of the wedding arrived, bringing with it a flurry of activity and a palpable sense of tension. A small gathering had been organized, consisting of close family members from both the De Luca and Saviano families. The venue, adorned with elegant decorations and flowers, was filled with an air of anticipation.

Isabella, dressed in the stunning wedding gown Enrico had sent, walked hand in hand with her father toward the altar. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took each step, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She felt like she was walking into the unknown, and the fear of what lay ahead was almost overwhelming.

Over the week, she had thought about the wedding over and over again. Hoping to come up with her plan, anything that could stop this from happening but she couldn't think of anything. She was forced to slowly accept her fate.

This was happening.

She was getting married to Enrico Saviano.

As they approached the altar, Isabella noticed that Enrico was not yet there. She glanced at her father, her eyes questioning.

Angelo noticed her look and leaned in to whisper reassuringly. "Don't worry, dear. Enrico will be here soon. I couldn't wait for him. It's best if you are already on the altar so we can wrap this up quickly."

Isabella nodded, trying to steady her nerves. She took her place at the altar, feeling the eyes of the guests on her. She scanned the room briefly, her gaze landing on Francesca and Elena, who were seated together. Francesca smiled at Isabella but her eyes were filled with envy as she watched Isabella, her expression a mixture of jealousy and bitterness.

Francesca couldn't help but compare herself to Isabella. Despite her earlier convictions, seeing her half-sister in that beautiful gown, adorned with exquisite jewelry and flawless makeup, stirred feelings of resentment within her. Isabella looked radiant, almost ethereal. Even the man she was getting married to, despite his dealings was handsome and Francesca struggled to contain her envy.

Elena, sensing her daughter's turmoil, placed a comforting hand on Francesca's arm. "Remember, Francesca, this is for the best. Isabella's place is here, to suffer and leave us for good. You will have your time."

Francesca nodded, trying to focus on her mother's words, but her eyes remained fixed on Isabella, who stood at the altar with a mixture of grace and nervousness.

The minutes stretched on, and the murmurs among the guests grew louder.

Whispers floated through the room, growing louder as the seconds ticked by. Isabella could hear snippets of conversations, each one more unsettling than the last.

"Do you think Enrico has stood her up?"

"He never seemed the type to settle down."

"Maybe he doesn't even like women..."

"I heard the wedding was forced, maybe he saw right through De Luca's nonsense."

Isabella’s nerves began to fray, her heart pounding louder with each passing moment. She tried to block out the voices, focusing on her breathing to stay calm. Her hands trembled slightly, clutching the bouquet of white roses tightly.

Francesca, seated with her mother, couldn’t help but smirk at the situation. The thought of Enrico standing Isabella up at the altar, after sending such a grand wedding gown, and jewelries seemed both ironic and fitting. She leaned closer to Elena, her mother, whispering, "Can you imagine the scandal if he doesn’t show up mother? After all this fuss?"

Elena nodded, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "It would serve her right. Let’s see how she handles this."

The wait stretched on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Isabella’s mind raced, thoughts swirling with fear and uncertainty. Just as the murmurs began to peak, the large wooden doors at the back of the hall creaked open, silencing the room instantly.

Enrico Saviano strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. The collective gasps of the guests were almost audible. Isabella’s eyes widened in shock and horror as she saw him. His face was splattered with blood, contrasting sharply against his sharp, tailored suit. The sight of him was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

With a calm, almost casual demeanor, Enrico walked down the aisle, his dark eyes locked onto Isabella’s. As he reached the altar, he turned to address the stunned guests. "My apologies for the delay," he said, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of danger. "I had some business to deal with on my way here."

The room remained silent, the tension high. The sight of Enrico covered in blood was enough to strike fear into the hearts of everyone present. Isabella’s heart raced, her mind mingling with a strange sense of relief that he had actually shown up and fear by the sight of him in blood.

Isabella couldn't help but think if he was attacked on his way here or worst, he killed someone on his way here. She swallowed nervously, at the thought of him killing someone on his wedding day.

Angelo, trying to maintain his composure, stepped forward. He didn't care about Enrico's dealings but wanted this wedding done immediately. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Saviano," he said, his voice shaky but polite. "Shall we proceed?"

Enrico nodded, his eyes never leaving Isabella’s. "Yes, let’s proceed."

The officiant, visibly shaken, began the ceremony. As the vows were exchanged, Isabella felt a sense of detachment, the surreal nature of the situation overwhelming her. Enrico’s presence, so powerful and intimidating, made her feel small and vulnerable.

As the officiant concluded the ceremony, he announced, "You may kiss the bride."

Enrico dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race. He leaned forward, his height towering over her, and placed a firm but gentle hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding.

Isabella's breath caught in her throat as she looked up into Enrico's eyes. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that moment. Slowly, Enrico lowered his face to hers, their lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss. Despite its gentleness, the kiss sent a shockwave through Isabella's body, a mixture of warmth and confusion spreading through her.

It was her first kiss, and she didn't know how to react.

A knot tightened in her stomach, a strange sensation she couldn't quite understand. Should she feel happy? Sad? The emotions were too complex, too new for her to process. All she knew was that Enrico's touch, his kiss, left her feeling both vulnerable and strangely exhilarated.

The kiss was brief, yet it felt like an eternity. When Enrico finally withdrew, he looked down at her with a knowing smile, as if he could sense the turmoil within her. His eyes held a mixture of possession and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

The officiant's voice broke the silence, announcing, "I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Saviano."

The guests erupted into polite applause, but the sound barely registered with Isabella. Her mind was still reeling from the kiss, the sensation of Enrico's lips lingering on hers. She glanced around, seeing the mixture of expressions on the faces of their family and friends. Some were pleased, others envious, and a few seemed as terrified as she felt.

Francesca, seated with her mother, watched the scene unfold. The jealousy she felt seeing Isabella receiving such a tender kiss from Enrico was almost unbearable.

Elena, on the other hand, maintained her composed exterior, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of satisfaction. The plan was in motion, and Isabella was now Enrico's responsibility.

As Enrico and Isabella turned to walk down the aisle together, his hand remained firmly on hers, guiding her through the throng of guests. Isabella’s mind raced, the weight of her new reality pressing down on her. She was now Mrs. Saviano, bound to a man who both frightened and fascinated her.

The wedding was over, but her life as Mrs. Enrico Saviano had just begun.