❤️🖤MARRIED TO
CONTD
"Come with me," Blake said.
"Hm?" Camilla blinked at him, confused.
"Come with me," he repeated, already stepping back toward the church.
"O-okay," she murmured, trailing after him.
The old church doors groaned as Blake pushed them open, the heavy wood creaking against its hinges.
The sound echoed through the hollow space, breaking the silence inside like a warning bell.
Blake stepped in first, his tall figure swallowed by the shadows of the aisle.
Camilla followed hesitantly, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it could be heard.
The hem of her wedding gown dragged softly across the stone floor, the train whispering with each shaky step she took.
Her breath caught in her throat the moment her eyes lifted.
Dominic stood there.
By the altar, a cigarette rested between his lips, thin ribbons of smoke curling lazily across his face.
His gaze—sharp, unreadable, dangerous—locked onto her with the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
His eyes bore into her.
Camilla's lips parted but no words came out .
"Are you just going to stand there?" blake asked calmly, his voice cutting through the silence of the church.
Camilla walk straight to the altar .
She bite down on her lips slightly .
Just a mintues ago, she was impersonating someone else—and now, she was standing before the altar herself.
Dominic pulled the cigarette from his lips, his movements slow, deliberate.
Without a second glance, he flicked it to the ground, the glowing tip scattering faint sparks before he crushed it beneath the heel of his shoe.
The faint hiss of smoke vanished into the silence of the church.
"Start the shit," Dominic muttered coldly to the priest, his voice edged with irritation rather than reverence.
Camilla's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Shit? Did he just call this marriage—this moment—shit? The word echoed in her mind like a slap.
Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her gown, her heart twisting as she questioned silently, What kind of man stands at the altar and calls his own wedding that?
Camilla glance slightly to the side to steal a glance at Dominic but found his gaze already on her .
She quickly shifted a gaze to the presit .
Dominic's words still lingered in the air when the priest shifted uneasily, his fingers tightening around the holy book.
With a nervous breath, he opened it and raised his voice, steady but cautious.
"We are gathered here today in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…"
The words echoed through the vast emptiness of the church.
Camilla's chest tightened. Each syllable felt heavy, final, as though the priest were sealing her fate with every breath.
Dominic stood beside her, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, his expression unreadable—bored, even.
It was as if sacred ceremony meant nothing more to him than another deal being signed.
Camilla bit down on her lip so hard it stung.
The priest continued, voice echoing off the church's high arches.
"Marriage is not to be entered into lightly or unadvisedly, but reverently, discreetly, and in the fear of God…"
Camilla's fingers tightened on her gown. Not lightly? Her entire presence here was a lie, a mask.
The words twisted in her chest like a cruel reminder that she wasn't supposed to be standing here at all.
Finally, the priest closed the bible gently, then looked directly at Dominic.
"Do you, Dominic, take Mrs. Veronica to be your lawfully wedded wife—to have and to hold, for better, for worse—"
"Cut that part off."
Dominic's voice sliced through the priest's words, deep and commanding.
He didn't even bother to raise his head; his tone alone was enough to silence the room.
The priest froze, his mouth hanging open mid-sentence, the echo of Dominic's interruption still bouncing against the stone walls.
The priest swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He adjusted his spectacles.
"Mr Dominic… do you take Miss Veronica to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Dominic's jaw flexed. He didn't blink, didn't hesitate. "I do," he said flatly,
"Did he just… cut off the vows?Camilla thought.
The priest turned to Camilla.
"Do you, Mrs. Veronica, take Mr. Dominic to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Camilla froze.
Her heart thundered against her ribs, each beat louder than the last.
The words tangled in her ears, heavy and suffocating. Mrs. Veronica.
The name wasn't even hers, yet here she stood, draped in white, being asked to vow her life away to a man she barely knew—one who had called this marriage shit just moments ago.
Camilla's throat went dry. Her lips trembled. A thousand thoughts screamed inside her head—her lie, the man at her side who treated this vow like filth.
The weight of the silence pressed down on her as if the whole church were holding its breath, waiting for her answer.
"Yes… I do."Camilla muttered.
The priest gave a small, relieved nod.
"Then by the power vested in Me,I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Before the priest could utter another word, Dominic stepped down from the altar, his strides confident and unbothered.
Blake followed close behind but paused midway, turning back to look at Camilla.
He arched a brow at her, his sharp gaze lingering.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Blake asked.
Snapping out of her daze, Camilla quickly gathered her dress and hurried after them.
The moment they stepped outside the church, a sleek black van was already waiting at the curb.
Blake moved ahead, pulling open the door for Dominic, who slid in without a word.
Is he just going to leave me here? Camilla's heart sank at the thought.
"Get in," Blake's voice cut through her panic, making her exhale in relief.
He opened the second door for her, and she climbed inside hesitantly.
"Was he forced into this marriage,Why his he acting so nonchalant?Camilla wondered, stealing a glance at Dominic's unreadable expression.
Blake slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and the car pulled away.
☆
" LUCCHESE MANSION "
Veronica pulled up to the grand estate, her car slowing to a stop before the towering mansion.
The building loomed like a fortress of wealth and power—its tall iron gates guarded by stone lions, the winding driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and glowing lanterns.
The mansion itself was an architectural masterpiece, a blend of old-world Italian elegance and modern luxury.
White marble columns stretched high, supporting wide balconies with wrought-iron railings.
Golden lights spilled from the enormous arched windows, casting a warm glow across the pristine courtyard.
A fountain stood at the center, water cascading in a flawless rhythm, its sound echoing softly in the still night air.
Veronica stepped out of the car, the night breeze brushing against her skin as she wrapped her arms around herself.
She drew in a deep breath, steeling her nerves.
She already knew what awaited her inside—her father's rage, her mother's shrill accusations.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she pushed the heavy doors open and walked into the grand foyer. The glittering chandelier above her cast sharp reflections across the polished tiles, but the air inside was heavy—too heavy.
Mrs. Lucchese was the first to notice her. Standing by the staircase, adorned in pearls and silk as though she were attending a ball rather than staying at home,
her sharp eyes locked on Veronica .
"What are you doing back here?" Mrs. Lucchese's voice sliced through the silence of the hall. "Aren't you supposed to be in your husband's house?"
Elizabeth rushed down the stairs, her footsteps sharp against the marble until she stood directly in front of her sister.
Veronica lifted her gaze, meeting Elizabeth's furious eyes.
"Why would you still marry him after I begged you not to?" Elizabeth snapped, her voice trembling with anger. "Why!!" she shouted, her hands balling into fists.
"I don't care if he's your husband now—he's still mine!" Elizabeth hissed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Veronica's expression didn't falter. "He isn't my husband. I didn't marry him."
Elizabeth blinked, her anger stalling for a beat. "What do you mean?"
"I said I didn't," Veronica replied firmly, her tone sharp.
"But Lord Salvatore already called your father over to celebrate your marriage to his grandson," Mrs. Lucchese said.
"To celebrate whose marriage?" Veronica snapped. "Did you not hear what I just said? I didn't marry him."
"Since you didn't marry him… then why did he call Dad over to celebrate your marriage with his grandson?" Elizabeth pressed, doubt lacing her voice as she eyed her sister.
When Veronica didn't answer immediately, Elizabeth's tone grew sharper.
"Are you lying to us? Did Dominic kick you out before you even settled in? Is that why you're spinning this ridiculous story about not marrying him?"
Veronica's expression hardened. "Believe whatever you want. I already told you—I didn't marry him."
With that, she turned and started up the stairs, her steps steady, her back straight. She disappeared from sight before Elizabeth could even lift her head to respond.
☆☆
"RUSSO MANOR "
" MADDOX'S DEN"
Moans spilled from Maddox's den, loud enough to be heard even outside.
Inside, Eroz lay flat on the bed while April—one of the trainee here —rid his cock.
She's completely naked, her clothes scattered carelessly across the room.
His cock hardened even more inside her as he watched her breasts bounce right in front of his face.
"Fuck… you're sexy," Maddox groaned, his hand gripping her ass possessively. He sank his teeth into the curve of her neck, making her gasp.
"Faster, April," he ordered, his voice rough and demanding. She obeyed instantly, riding him harder. Raw moans spilled from her lips as she increased her pace, her body trembling with each thrust.
Her hands, once locked around his neck, slipped down to her sides, too weak to hold on.
Suddenly, the door swung open. Selena stepped inside, her expression flat and annoyed.
"Can you fucking tell your whore to control her moans? I'm trying to get some sleep," she muttered.
April froze, slowing her movements, embarrassment flooding her face.
"You can't just barge into my room like that," Maddox snapped, his voice sharp.
"And don't call her a whore," he added firmly, his hand tightening on April's hip. "She isn't a whore."
April's lips curved into a faint smile at his defense—until his next words cut through her like glass.
"She's just a trainee."
Her smile faltered instantly. The words echoed in her chest, hollow and cruel.
"I don't give a damn about what she is," Selena replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just want her to control her moaning so I can sleep." With that, she turned and left the den, the door slamming shut behind her.
April slowly lifted herself off Maddox's lap, her body trembling for an entirely different reason now.
She bent down to gather her scattered clothes, her movements stiff.
"Just a trainee?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Do you sleep with people you call just trainees?" She bit her lip hard, fighting back the tears that burned in her eyes.
"Yeah… just the pretty ones," Maddox replied carelessly.
April's heart sank like a stone.
"So he does sleep with other trainees… and here I was, foolishly imagining I was special to him. I'm such an idiot, she thought bitterly, her chest tightening.
She quickly slipped into her clothes, not even bothering with her bra or panties.
Her hands trembled, but she refused to let a single tear fall in front of him.
Without a word, April walked out of the room. The last thing she wanted was for Maddox to see her break down.
Left alone, Maddox glanced down at his throbbing cock, still hard and aching. He let out a frustrated groan.
"Fuck… guess I'll have to take care of this myself," he muttered.
☆☆
" VERCETTI'S HOUSE "
Caroline sat stiffly on the couch in the living room. The air was cool, almost soothing, but it did nothing to calm the wave of anger boiling inside her.
It wasn't just that Camilla had run away from the wedding—that alone was enough to send her into a rage.
What truly unsettled her was that Camilla still hadn't come back. Hours had passed, and yet there was no sign of her.
Caroline clenched her fists, her thoughts spiraling. She knows better than anyone that she has nowhere else to run. So why the hell isn't she back?
Frustration surged through her. She stood abruptly, pacing the room with restless steps.
"Fuck!" she hissed, dragging her hands through her hair, her voice trembling with fury.
The sharp creak of the front door made her spin around. Her heart leapt. Finally. Camilla.
But when the figure stumbled into the house, her hope evaporated. It wasn't Camilla—it was Mr. Redd, her husband, staggering in a drunken haze, his shirt half-open, the stench of alcohol clinging to him.
Caroline's lips curled in disgust. She hissed under her breath as he stumbled closer, reaching out to embrace her.
"MyCaroline… my love," he slurred, wrapping his arms around her.
She shoved him off with a sharp push, her voice icy.
"You're calling me love?" Caroline scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "How much did you gamble this time?"
"Just one million," Mr. Redd slurred lazily.
"Just a million?" Caroline repeated, staring at him in disbelief, her voice sharp with anger.
Unbothered, Mr. Redd staggered toward the staircase, climbing unsteadily, his steps heavy and uneven.
Caroline let out a furious sigh, flipping her hair back in frustration as her jaw tightened.
☆☆
" DOMINIC'S VILLA "
Blake pulled the sleek van into the wide driveway of the villa, its towering gates shutting silently behind them.
The place was enormous, with marble pillars, sprawling gardens, and warm lights glowing from the tall windows.
He stepped out first, moving quickly to open the door for Dominic.
Dominic emerged with his usual commanding presence, his expression unreadable.
Camilla followed, this time without needing to be told.
Her eyes lifted to the villa, awe and unease mixing in her chest. The mansion was beautiful, but it carried a coldness that made her skin prickle.
Without a word, Dominic strode toward the entrance. His stride was steady, purposeful.
Camilla hesitated only a moment before trailing after him.
Inside, the grand foyer stretched upward with crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors.
Dominic didn't slow down. He simply climbed the staircase, his voice deep and curt as he addressed one of the waiting maids.
"Settle her in the guest room," he ordered, not sparing Camilla so much as a glance.
"Yes, sir," the maid replied quickly.
Camilla followed the maid.
The lady led her through the long hallway, stopping before a room at the far end. She pushed the door open with a polite bow.
"This way, miss."
Camilla stepped inside the guest room, the door closing softly behind her.
☆
" GUEST ROOM "
" BATHROOM "
The first thing Camilla did upon entering was strip off her clothes and head straight for the bathroom.
She stepped beneath the shower, letting the steady stream of warm water pour over her head.
A small wave of relief washed through her body, chasing away the tension she had been carrying since the ceremony.
Her back pressed against the cool tiled wall as she closed her eyes, allowing the sound of the water to drown out her racing thoughts.
But the relief didn't last long.
With a frustrated groan, she lifted a hand and lightly hit her forehead.
"Stupid… I should've brought my phone to call jadyen Don't to come see me at the bar " she muttered to herself.
The realization tightened her chest—her brother would still waiting for her at the bar. Like He always do when He get off from his part time work..
After several minutes of simply standing beneath the stream, Camilla finally reached out and turned off the shower.
She stepped out slowly, grabbing a towel from the stand and wrapping it securely around herself.
Camilla stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to her neck as droplets of water slid down her skin.
The faint scent of vanilla soap lingered in the air as she walked further into the room, her bare feet pressing softly against the polished floor.
She didn't notice the other presence in the room, her mind too preoccupied as she loosened the towel around her body.
The soft fabric slipped away, revealing her bare skin under the dim light.
She opened the wardrobe, pulling out an oversized nightdress, her movements unhurried, unaware she was being watched.
When she finally turned around, her breath caught. Dominic was leaning casually against the wall, his tall frame half-shadowed, his dark eyes fixed on her bare skin.
Camilla eyes widen.
she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, fumbling to grab the fallen towel from the floor.
Camilla quickly wrapped the towel around herself, clutching it tightly as her pulse raced.
A dozen words burned on the tip of her tongue—she wanted to ask what he was doing there, wanted to demand that he leave
But then the thought struck her: this was his home. She had no right to chase him out of it.
Without another word, she hurried back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Maybe if she stayed there long enough, he'd be gone when she came out.
Dominic didn't move. He only watched her frantic reaction, his lips curving faintly.
He was far too used to women throwing themselves at him—never running away.
Camilla leaned her head back against the wall, her pulse still unsteady.
My front… and my back, she thought, pressing her thighs tightly together.
He definitely saw everything.
The silence stretched on, minutes passing with only the sound of her own breathing filling the space.
when Camilla no longer heard a sound from the room, she cracked the bathroom door open.
Camilla's breath caught in her throat the moment that familiar, intoxicating scent hit her nostrils.
Dominic stood at the bathroom doorway, his tall frame filling the space, towering over her like a shadow she couldn't escape.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as panic swirled in her chest.
She was just about to slam the door shut and retreat back inside when his hand shot forward, gripping her wrist with unshakable strength and yanking her out.
"Strip," Dominic ordered.
It was the first word he had ever spoken directly to her.
"i'm not a stripper" Camilla blinked at him, her voice trembling in disbelief.
Dominic leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed her ear, sending a shiver coursing down her spine.
She inhaled his scent completely this time.
"Don't make me repeat myself," his voice rumbled, low and commanding.