Chapter 2 Early wedding present

Fina

I didn’t remember running.

Only the sound of my bedroom door slamming shut and the lock clicking into place beneath my shaking fingers. My chest burned, breaths coming too fast, too shallow, like my body was trying to outrun something it couldn’t escape.

“No—no—no—” I whispered, backing away from the door.

Almost immediately, hands struck the wood.

“Fina,” my mother called, her voice breaking. “Open the door.”

My grandmother joined her, knocking harder, praying in Italian, pleading. I pressed my back against the door, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed. “All of you—leave me alone!”

The words tore out of me, raw and desperate.

“I’m not marrying him,” I shouted. “I won’t marry a man twice my age. A man old enough to be my father’s shadow. I won’t do it!”

My voice cracked. My throat ached.

Silence followed. Heavy. Guilty.

I laughed once, hysterical, then buried my face in my hands.

Five years ago, I had stood in this same room with my heart in my mouth and my hands shaking.

I was sixteen then. Stupid. Hopeful.

I had told him I loved him.

Dario Severo hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t mocked me. He had only looked at me with that same calm, unreadable expression and said, You’re a child, Fina.

That was it.

No cruelty. No softness. Just a closed door.

Not long after, everything fell apart.

My father and Dario had planned a combined shipment—coke and weapons, moving through routes they trusted. Something went wrong. Half the cargo disappeared. Names were leaked. The government got involved.

Dario was arrested.

Months passed before he cleared his name. Months before he resurfaced—cold, silent, changed.

And when he did, the friendship between him and my father was already dead.

The war that followed didn’t need bullets at first. Businesses collapsed. Allies vanished. Men switched sides or disappeared entirely. My father’s cartel—the Gaten cartel—was crippled piece by piece.

Dario didn’t kill us.

That was the cruelest part.

Because everyone knew—if he wanted us dead, we would be.

I had seen what he was capable of. I’d watched him cut off a man’s hand once, without hesitation, because the man stole from him. I remembered the family that crossed him after his brother died—how, one by one, their names filled the news.

He was ruthless.

And once, impossibly, I had loved him.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

My father stood there.

Julio Gaten didn’t look like the man who once ruled half this city. His shoulders sagged. His eyes were tired. Defeated.

“It’s done,” he said quietly.

I scrambled to my feet. “No.”

“The papers are signed,” he continued. “You belong to him now.”

Something snapped.

“I don’t belong to anyone!” I screamed.

The door widened. Bruno appeared behind him. So did men I didn’t recognize.

My mother stood in the hallway, crying.

And then I saw the bags.

Packed. Waiting.

“What is this?” I whispered.

“You’re moving to the Severo estate,” my father said. “Immediately. The wedding will be in two days.”

I shook my head violently. “I won’t go.”

Julio stepped closer. “You don’t have a choice.”

“You’re giving me to him,” I sobbed. “To save yourself.”

His face twisted. “I’m saving this family. I have nothing left. He will destroy me if I don’t do this.”

I collapsed, the fight draining out of me all at once.

Bruno reached for me. “Fina—”

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, thrashing when he tried to lift me.

But I was outnumbered.

They carried me anyway.

I screamed until my throat burned. Until my voice broke. My mother cried openly as they dragged me through the house, past the front doors, past the life I knew.

Dario was waiting by the car.

He watched me calmly, like this was inevitable.

Hatred flooded my chest.

“I hate you,” I spat when my feet hit the ground. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He stepped closer.

“Watch your mouth,” he said quietly. “From now on, I will be your husband. The only man in your life.”

I stared at him, shaking.

The drive was silent.

His men sat with me in the back. Dario’s car led the way.

When the white mansion came into view, my heart sank. I had played here as a child. Run through its halls. Laughed.

Now it felt like a cage.

Inside, the house was unnervingly quiet.

I stopped at the doorway, refusing to step further.

Dario didn’t look back. He walked straight to the open kitchen and poured himself a glass of scotch, movements unhurried, precise. I watched him—the way he held the glass, the way his jaw tightened slightly when he drank.

“You’re going to stand there all day?” he asked.

“I want to go home,” I whispered.

He turned.

“This is your home now,” he said. “You’re mine.”

“Why?” My voice shook. “Why are you doing this to us?”

He studied me for a long moment. Then he raised his chin slightly.

“Come here.”

I didn’t move.

The air shifted.

“Come here,” he repeated, colder this time.

My legs betrayed me.

I walked toward him without understanding why, my body responding before my mind could fight it. When I stopped in front of him, his hand lifted.

His fingers wrapped lightly around my throat—not tight, not cruel—just enough to make me still. To make me aware.

Then he pulled me closer and kissed me.

Hard and Possessive. 

And I knew—

Nothing about this was going to be gentle.

He bit my lip hard, then sucked on it like he was punishing me. For a few seconds, I lost myself in the sensation—until I felt how hard he was beneath his trousers, brushing against my belly.

I tensed instantly.

He noticed.

When he finally pulled away, a half-smile curved his mouth, sharp and knowing.

“Don’t feel too special, Ikkohafina,” he murmured. “I might not be very nice to you in the future.”

The way he said my full name—slow, deliberate, almost like a prayer—sent heat flooding through me. My breath came out shaky, betraying me.

“You don’t scare me,” I snapped, even as fear curled tight in my chest.

He chuckled, low and dark. “Feisty Fina. Soon you’ll be scared enough to stop provoking me.” His fingers brushed my lips lightly. “Especially with this mouth.”

Before I could react, he pulled me back into him and kissed me again. I fought this time, pushing against his chest, but he was stronger. He pressed me back against the counter, boxing me in, leaving me nowhere to run.

When he finally broke the kiss, my lips were throbbing.

He turned away like nothing had happened and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

“I knew you’d be stubborn,” he said calmly. “I’m glad I planned for it.”

He took out his phone and played a video.

The moment I saw it, my breath caught in my throat.

“What is this?” I demanded, my voice rising despite myself.

He glanced at me, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“An early wedding present.”

I clenched my fists.

I hated this man.