call a friend among the crowd of rich prominent people who had attended the wedding, and felt so lost and alone. I didn't recognize anyone at the wedding save for the three men that always accompanied Alessandro to the restaurant. One of them was Alessandro's best man. He was a little shorter than Alessandro, but had the same olive tone complexion and black hair, so I assumed he was Italian as well. The stranger's slim, blonde girlfriend was to be my maid of honor. I couldn't even remember her name as we were introduced on the very day of the wedding. She helped me get dressed, and even stuck around when the make-up artist arrived to do my make-up. But she acted very official and didn't ask any questions. It was almost as though she knew the truth. In any case, it was clear the couple were very close to Alessandro, so there was no point in bringing up his dirty laundry in front of them.
Unlike me, Alessandro seemed content in a way that was very much out of his character, and he had no difficulty in taking over the role of a happy groom. When one of the remaining two men from his close circle of friends walked me down the aisle, Alessandro held my gaze and— for the first time—I couldn't find any darkness in the murky depths of those piercing eyes. When I stood in front of him, reality sank in, and I was grateful for the protection of the veil that concealed my face from the curious gaze of this gorgeous, cruel man who was about to become my husband.
I withstood the ceremony in a mechanical way; repeating the words after the minister, forcing myself not to think about the fact that with each word that crossed my lips, I was taking a huge leap into the dark oblivion of Alessandro Damiani's world.
Then, the priest said something about a kiss, and suddenly, Alessandro lifted my veil and I was confronted with the heated storm in his black eyes. His lips twisted into a smile and leaned closer. He must have felt my shivering because he supported me with his weight.
“Mia moglie...my wife,” he murmured in a voice as light as a breeze, and our eyes met as his lips brushed against mine in an innocent kiss. My first kiss. The crowd started clapping, and Alessandro smiled with rich satisfaction. Slowly, I realized it was over. I wasn't Olivia Walters anymore. I was Mrs. Damiani now...and probably forever.
All those strangers gathered around to congratulate us, and while Alessandro continued smiling and joking with everyone, I prayed for the ground beneath my feet to open up and swallow me alive. After a while, my new husband noticed the sour expression on my face, and he drew closer to whisper in my ear. “Smile, tesoro. You must act like a happy bride.”
Taking heed in his warning, I forced a smile that didn’t touch my eyes. When the waiters approached us with champagne, I didn't hesitate to take a glass to calm my nerves, although—in normal circumstances—I avoided drinking alcohol.
Suddenly, Alessandro's best man approached with a big smile on his face. Save for the curt official congratulation he had expressed to me a few minutes back, we'd never exchanged a single word to each other.
“Olivia, right?”
I nodded as he extended his hand toward me.
“Lorenzo Moretti, pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” I said quietly, shaking his hand.
He smirked. “Once again, congratulations on the festivities. You know, I was certain Alessandro was joking in that restaurant when he said in all seriousness he'd marry the shy waitress. Dio, we were even placing bets on the day when he'd lose his cool and start manhandling you in that dark hallway, but he acted like a saint. Only marriage would do for his innocent angel.”
I almost spit out my champagne.
“Italian men can be a bit conservative like that, but I still can't believe the smug bastard has actually gone through with it.”
I let out a shallow breath. “Neither can I.”
“You must be a little overwhelmed by the attention,” Lorenzo concluded, nudging his head to the surrounding crowd. “Honestly, I never thought there was a woman alive who could make Alessandro tie the knot, but I can see what made him change his mind.”
Lorenzo's silent appraisal flushed my cheeks with warmth, and I fiddled with the now empty champagne flute in my hands.
He smirked in a knowing manner and arched his eyebrows. “Welcome to