"I'm going to marry her tonight, and slit her father's throat before sunrise."
Adrian Morello adjusted the cuffs of his suit as the priest's Latin echoed through the cathedral like a curse. His bride walked toward him in white — untouched, flawless, and tragically misled.
She didn't know she was walking straight into a war.
He didn't want a wife.
He wanted revenge.
Marco Romano was seated three rows back, looking smug as sin — the man who'd orchestrated his brother's death and sold peace in the form of his daughter.
Adrian's fingers itched for the cold weight of his gun.
Instead, he reached for Isabella's hand.
Her skin was warm. Steady. She looked up at him with eyes that didn't blink.
"I do," she said before the priest could even finish.
Bold little liar.
He smirked. "I do."
The kiss was mechanical. Lips met, but fire didn't. Her perfume was dangerous. Her tongue never moved. Not passion — performance.
Good. He didn't need love.
He needed access.
At the reception, champagne spilled over polished glass while deals were whispered beneath laughter. Adrian moved like a wolf in a room full of sheep dressed as lions.
Antonio leaned in, keeping his voice low. "Our guy spotted Romano's top men meeting with someone from Kiev two nights ago. Arms deal. Black market. Not part of the truce."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "So the old bastard's already breaking terms."
"It gets better. Word is, Isabella doesn't even know."
Adrian's eyes followed his new wife as she smiled like a born queen. "Then she's either stupid… or a distraction."
"Or a trap."
He set his drink down. "Let's find out which."
Later, alone in the estate's grand bedroom, Isabella stood in front of the window, veil off, hair down, sipping wine like she owned the place.
Adrian walked in, loosened his tie, shut the door behind him with a quiet click.
"You look too calm for someone who just married a killer," he said.
She turned, eyes sharp. "You look too bored for someone who just married a spy."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think you are?"
"I think you want to believe I'm useless. That'll make it easier when you decide to kill me."
Adrian crossed the room in two steps. "Don't tempt me."
She didn't flinch. "Then don't underestimate me."
The tension hit like lightning.
Their mouths collided in a kiss full of hate, not heat — all tongue, teeth, power. His hands gripped her hips. She shoved him back.
They both stared, breathing hard.
"Try that again," she whispered, "and I'll bite your tongue off."
Adrian laughed — low, deadly. "You'll have to get deeper next time."
He didn't sleep that night.
He stood at the window instead, watching headlights flash across the estate gates.
At 3:12 AM, Antonio's call came in: "Surveillance shows Romano's men sneaking through the southern fields. Armed."
Adrian smiled without humor.
The honeymoon was officially over.
"Kill anyone who crosses the gate," Adrian said. "But leave Marco for me. I want him alive long enough to watch me take everything."