Lucius De Salvo

And just like that, Layla's fate was sealed. She was forced into a marriage arranged by her family, her protests ignored, her heart broken from the betrayal she got from Roderick, the man she thought loved her. 

Standing on the wedding aisle, dressed in white gown and holding a bouquet, Layla's knuckles turned white as she squeezed the flowers tightly while waiting for her groom.

Lucius De Salvo was not an ordinary and kind man. He was the most terrifying man alive on the earth. People would even fear to take the name of this man. 

And she would have to share her entire life with Lucius! 

The worst nightmare that anyone could ever have. 

She wanted to run away and hide somewhere far, but even the thought of being caught by Lucius sent shivers in her body. Yesterday when she told this to her father, his words were simple. 

'Try running away and he will kill you the moment he finds you.'

'Then, why are you marrying me off to him? He is 36, Dad while I'm just 22. You are asking me to marry an old man, Dad,' Layla asked her father while reminding of the age gap between them. 

'Because that's what Lucius wants. He wants to marry you,' Darius said. 'He is an influential man in the country and we can't ignore the order from him. You've done nothing good for this family, at least, do this job properly.' 

Layla came out of her thoughts when the sounds of the shoes reverberated in the hall. She looked at the man, the ruthless man, her groom, Lucius De Salvo, walking toward her with a commanding aura. 

Layla thought he was an old man, but to her surprise he looked so refined and didn't look 36 at all. He had sharp eyebrows, chiseled jawline and not to mention, his deep, ocean-blue eyes would pull anyone towards him. 

Layla was completely frozen at his sight. What was this feeling? Why did she feel such a magnetic pull toward him? 

"It's nice to see you, Layla Rosenzweig," Lucius said as he finally halted before her, his eyes darted at her as if he would want something dangerous from her. 

Despite that veil, Layla could feel the way his gaze bore at hers as if he was looking directly into her soul. Her cheeks flushed red and she lowered her gaze.  

In an instant, Lucius pulled Layla close, his arm encircling her slender waist, causing her heart to skip a beat. "Start the vows," he instructed the priest with a smirk that Layla couldn't quite decipher. "I can't wait to make her Layla Lucius De Salvo."

The ceremony seemed to pass in a blur for Layla. Before she knew it, she found herself in a limousine, the enormity of the day settling in. 

Her mother had not even bothered to see her off, too engrossed in conversation with Orabela, whom she always treated like her own daughter. 

Anger simmered inside her, a desire for revenge against both Roderick and Orabela consuming her thoughts. How she wanted to strangle Orabela and then, thrash her with the bouquet she had been holding in her hands. 

"Do you want me to kill that woman?" Lucius's deep, husky voice jolted her from her thoughts. Layla turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized how close they were. His lips were almost touching hers, his hot, minty breath mingling with hers.

"Say it," Lucius urged, his finger gently pressing under her chin. "I prefer words, Layla."

"I—I never thought that," Layla stammered, the lie slipping from her lips. She didn't truly know how to express her feelings, nor did she want to admit her darkest thoughts.

"Don't lie to me. My eyes see what others can't, Baby. The way your hands clenched, your eyes shifted, and your jaw tightened—all reveal your desire to kill the woman," Lucius said, his gaze never leaving her. 

Layla's lips quivered, but no words came out. The intensity of the moment left her paralyzed.

Before she could react further, Lucius's lips brushed against hers, and her entire body froze. His grip on the back of her head was firm, keeping her in place. She brought her hands to his chest, her voice trembling as she said, "W-We're in the car."

"So?" Lucius's eyes held a playful glint as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Can't I kiss my wife?"

"Uh—no… that's inappropriate," Layla replied, her lips pressing together in a futile attempt to maintain some semblance of propriety. 'Please don't. And why is he behaving like this? I heard he didn't smile. But why is he smiling at me all the time?'  

"Fine, Baby. But once we enter my territory, we will do exactly as I desire. I won't stop even if you beg me," Lucius said with a smirk, his words laced with a hint of menace. Was it a warning, or was he simply asserting his control?

Layla's mind raced, struggling to process the implications of his statement. She took a deep breath and asked, "Why me? Why did you choose to marry me?"

"Because you are Layla," Lucius replied, his tone indifferent yet resolute.

Layla frowned in confusion. 'What kind of answer is that?' The vague response only deepened her frustration and unease.

And when they were finally in the De Salvo estate, she gulped in fear. It was already night and she knew what would be happening next. 

She entered the bedroom, which was of Lucius. It had a dark aesthetic, in fact, the entire house had. She placed the bouquet on the table just next to the door and looked around the room.  

"Ahh!" A low scream escaped her mouth as she was pressed to the nearest wall. "Are you ready for the wedding night, Baby?" The back of his fingers trailed down her arm and she flinched. 

"We-we don't love each other," Layla stuttered. 

"Does that even matter? I've desired you for a long time," Lucius said, leaving her astonished. 

"What?" Layla was shocked. "Why would you?"

"Because you are Layla Rosenzweig." With that, he captured her mouth for a passionate kiss.