I was pulled from the black limo and onto my feet. I was met by five body guards – probably my new husband's, as well as a church that made me feel like an ant in comparison. My body froze at the sight of them. All large build males in black suits and black sunglasses that covered their eyes. None of them made eye-connect with me which made my already unsettled stomach worse.

"Zoey," I called out, wanting something familiar.

"Here, I'm here!" she yelled, running from the other side of the car to me.

I clung to her arms, not allowing her to leave me even for a second.

"Zo, don't leave me," I begged her.

"Come on," she mumbled through her teeth, pushing me towards the church doors.

I had become nothing but a vessel, my soul long gone. In the church, I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, another two girls that were supposed to be my bridesmaids, the priest and more bodyguards. I didn't know if they were protecting me from something unknown or making sure that I didn't bolt. My grip on Zoey's arms became tighter as people fixed up my dress and flowed out my veil. Flowers were pushed into my hands and my father appeared from the crowd. My hands quickly found their way into his, not wanting to get lost in the sea of bodies.

"Bride is good to go," I heard a man say before there was a beep in the walkie-talkie that sat in the jacket of his suit.

"Everything outside is securer and safe. No sign of him," the voice rang back.

"No sign of who, Pappa?" I whispered, clinging to his arms as the veil was pulled over my head.

"You look so beautiful," he told me again, tears filling his eyes.

"Pappa –,"

My voice was cut off by the sound of music and bodies pushing me towards the aisle. My death grip on Pappa's arm tighten as I struggled to walk down the long aisle between the rows of faces I hardly knew. I refused to look up at the end, not wanting to meet the man that I would be tied to for the rest of my life. But we came to the end, far too soon.

"P-Pappa," I whispered, not wanting him to give me up.

"I wish you luck my darling," he told me, raising the veil.

I whispered another please, which he ignored before kissing my cheek and taking my hand. My eyes were glued to them as I watched him place my hand into the hand of another.

"Treat her well," I heard my father say, "That's all I ask."

"You have my word," the rich deep voice answered, causing my legs to shake.

I licked my suddenly dry lips as my eyes slowly made their way up the arm that belonged to the hand, to the shoulder and the neck. My heart leaped into my throat when they landed on his face. His head was covered with black curly hair that hung around his ears. A strong jawline shaped his face with a thin layer of small stubbles along his cheeks, chin and upper lip. A smile was far from his lips and dark eyebrows held a shadow over his black, soulless eyes. His very presence caused goosebumps to rise on my arms and neck as he brought a sort of fear to my body.

"Shell we get started?" the priest asked us, when he realized that we weren't going to speak.

"Eliza Uccello and Patrick Maestri have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"

Our eyes met, almost daring each other to tell the priest no.

"I have," we answered, a little stunned by the sound of each other's voices.

"Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honour each other for as long as you both shall live?"

"I am," Patrick said strongly, like he had practiced, as I stuttered, "I-I am."

Patrick shifted on his feet as I licked my lips, trying not to feel the lie.

"Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

"I am," we answered, my cheeks burning at the thought of having children with this man.

"Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church."

We did as the priest asked, trying to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

"Patrick, do you take Eliza for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do," he answered, his rich voice echoing through the church.

To me, the Priest asked, "Eliza, do you take Patrick for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?

I swallowed, "I do."

"Oh Lord, bless the couple that comes here today in holy matrimony. Bless their souls, bless their love. For, what God joins together, let no one put asunder," he paused, dropping his head in a prayer, "we'll now have the rings."

I was grateful to be able to let go of him. Already he seemed to have a power over me that made me shiver. I turned to Zoey and took the silver band.

You're doing great, Zoey mouthed, making a small smile appear on my face before I turned back to Patrick who was waiting for me.

"Patrick, repeat after me," the Priest told him, "Eliza, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

Sliding the ring on my shaking hand, he repeated, "Eliza...receive this ring as a sign of my...love and fidelity."

It was like he couldn't say the words. I couldn't pretend not to feel a little offended.

"In the name of the father, and of the son and of the Holy Spirit," the priest finished.

"In the name of the father, and of the son and of the Holy Spirit," Patrick repeated, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles in a way of being affectionate.

I bit my lip, not knowing if I could return the favour.

"Eliza, repeat after me. Patrick, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

I swallowed, placing the band on his left ring finger, "P-Patrick, receive this ring as a sign of my l-love and f-fidelity."

Patrick swallowed, the words taking a toll on his body.

"In the name of the father, and of the son and of the Holy Spirit."

"In the name of the father, and of the son and of the Holy Spirit," I finished, taking his hand, properly.

"In the power vested in me and in this Catholic Church. I pronounce you, husband and wife. Patrick, you may kiss your bride."

My eyes looked up into his soulless ones as I remembered this part of the ceremony. God, how could I forget that we were going to have to kiss?

My heart started to race when Patrick took a step to close in the gap between us. Air caught in my throat when he took my hip in one hand and with the other knelt my chin up to meet his lips.

Oh God, what do I do? Open my mouth? Give him a little tongue? What?

He was given full control of this meaningless smooch. We were the only two that seemed not into it has the crowd cheered and wolf whistled. It felt like a lifetime had passed before Patrick pulled back and allowed me to breathe. I was stunned by the room of smiling faces that cheered for the marriage I so clearly didn't want.

My eyes landed on Zoey who was giving me thumbs up and mouthing, you did it.

I smiled at her and mouthed, thank you, feeling a new butch of tears forming in my eyes.

I turned my head back to Patrick's proud stance as he looked out to the crowd. He wore no smile on his face, just a look of accomplishment that he should be proud of. Oh crap, I was actually married to this guy. I thought the wedding was going to be the hard part. No, it the rest of my life that I had to spend with him that was.

We signed our licence to make this marriage legal before Patrick led me down the aisle. At that point, I didn't mind his control. My legs could barely move and I couldn't speak without vomiting.

I had never been so grateful to see my father at the end. Letting go of Patrick's hand, I ran into his arms, soaking up the only comforting feeling I would ever have.

"I've never been prouder," my father told me hugging me tight.

"Promise, you'll visit," I begged, pulling back to look at his face.

He smiled again, patting my cheek, "I promise."

"Eliza, honey, you look beautiful," Oscar Maestri told me, taking my hands and kissing me on the cheek.

It was only then that I noticed the similarity between Oscar and Patrick and I was not just talking in appearance. Not only did they share a head full of black hair - though Oscar had a few greys here and there - a strong jawline and a straight nose. But there was also a darkness in his eyes that made me shudder at the sight.

Unlike, his son, I knew Oscar well. He was a constant visitor these past couple of months, helping Pappa arrange the wedding. But over the years, he was a close business partner of my father, building their empires close together, trying to ready them for this day, I suppose.

"You've never looked more like your mother," he gushed, brushing my burning cheek, "I'm honoured to call you my daughter-in-law."

At that, the wall of compliments was shattered and I was reminded that I was no better than a pig being sent to slaughter.

"Let me properly introduce my son, Patrick," Oscar introduced, gesturing Patrick to come forward and take my hand.

It was funny, I had to admit it. I was being introduced to my husband. Patrick would have been great at poker. I couldn't tell what was running through his head for the life of me. Did he find it as strange as I did? Did he dread this marriage as much as I did?

"It is nice to meet you, Eliza," Patrick said, running his thumb over my knuckles again.

"Like wise," I managed to say, struggling to function under his deep stare.

Coughing, I regained my sanity and looked towards my father.

"What happens now?" I asked, taking back my hand.

"The reception, I suppose," Pappa told me, sounding like a jolly king.

"Yes," Oscar cheered, "Let's go celebrate this joyous occasion. The unity of our families."

Our fathers shook hands, clearly pleased with what they had accomplished. Finally, after fifteen years of fear and planning, this day had come.

Everyone was having more fun at my wedding reception than me. I was forced to sit at the bridal table, next to my silent husband and listen to compliments about how beautiful I looked and prayers for my happiness as if I had a choice in the manner. Patrick let the prayers fall on deaf ears and made me be the one to respond to them.

I couldn't make out his character for the life of me. At the church, he seemed just as proud as our fathers but now he looked like he wanted to escape just as much as I did. I wanted to start a conversation with him, but I didn't know how. Do I talk about the weather? Do I ask about his life? His interests? His likes and dislikes? Everything just seemed so foreign with him.

I had boyfriends before and starting the talking process had never been easy. But it had felt natural and not forced. With Patrick, it was awkward and hard. Anything I felt like saying seemed stupid and pathetic.

"Lizzy! Lizzy!" I jumped at the sound of Zoey's yelling as she ran – quite well in heels – towards the table, "Come on, this is our song!"

I laughed when I heard Low by Flo Rida blare through the DJ's speakers.

"Come on!" Zoey shouted at me, making me scream and laugh for real for the first time in weeks.

I was barely around the long table when she took a hold of my arms and dragged me to the middle of the dance floor. The music moved my hips as I swayed my arms around, not caring if I was embarrassing myself or not. I looked to Zoey for advice, knowing she was the better dancer out of the two of us. She grabbed my hips and dropped to the floor making a belly laugh escape my lips. Unlike me, her blue strapless dress that stopped at her mid thighs gave her more freedom to dance than my dress did. She wooed, when she came back up, cheering over her triumph to return to her feet without falling. I laughed at her, feeling on the verge of happiness. I could always relay on her to bring a smile on my face.

As the song ended, I wrapped my arms around her neck as she placed her hands on my hips. We started to slow dance, not caring if people were looking at us.

"You have to admit, Lizzy. He's really hot," Zoey whispered in my ear.

"Because looks is what I'm looking for," I huffed, "He has barely spoken a word to me."

"Perhaps he's shy," Zoey suggested, the smile on her face telling me that she didn't believe it herself.

I scoffed, "Look at him. Does he look shy to you?"

Zoey subtly looked towards my new husband, before looking back with a cheeky grin on her face. We fell into small cheeky giggles, trying to cover the fact that we were talking about him.

"You know he hasn't stopped looking at you, right?" Zoey asked.

I stopped swaying, blinking a little and forcing myself not to look at him to see for myself.

"I'm his wife, remember," I said, covering my uneasiness, "I bet he's jealous that I'm dancing with you and not by his side, being his queen."

I couldn't hide the bitterness from my voice. I'd lived long enough in the Mafia world not to know what was expected of me in this marriage. Stand by my husband, support him, make love to him, be the female face of our two empires. All because of the ring I wore and the love I was supposed to feel towards him.

"Speaking of which, are you going to sleep with him tonight?" she asked.

I gasped, pulling back from her grip. Now, I was no prude. But I had to have some sort of connection with the man before I could sleep with him.

"Zoey," I hissed.

"What?" she cried, looking innocent, "It's your wedding night. It's mandatory."

"It's not," I scoffed, "Not for arranged marriages."

"I call bullshit. How do you know that he's not thinking the same thing?" she asked.

I froze, my mouth dropping. He couldn't be. We were strangers no matter what people were thinking. I wasn't just going to jump into bed with him because it was mandatory on our wedding night to sleep together.

"Your thinking about it, aren't you?" Zoey asked, with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Only because you put it in my head," I said through my teeth, "I'm not sleeping with him, Zo. He can't make me."

"Oh Honey," she laughed at me, pitying me as she wrapped her arms around my neck, "When you look like that and have as much money as he does, he can make you do whatever he wants."

Oh crap.

"May I cut in," Zoey and I broke apart at the sound of Oscar Maestri's voice.

I was a little disappointed to find him and not his son. I had no desire to sleep with Patrick tonight but I expected him to at least try and get to know me.

Zoey gave me a look that seemed to say, good luck, before I felt Oscar's hands on my hips and I placed my own on his shoulders.

"Your mother would be very proud of you today, my dear," he told me.

I suppose he was trying to be nice. But I knew it had been his plan from the very start.

"I can see on your face that you're not the blushing bride that people expect," he stated, making me lower my gaze in shame, "I'm understanding, my dear, don't think that I'm not. It's a big thing to tie your life to a stranger."

"Finally, someone who understands," I laughed bitterly before I could stop myself.

"Of course, I'm not heartless. I know the weight of duty when I see it," he told me, "But I reassure you. Yours and Patrick's sacrifice will not be in vain. You're doing this for your family's sake, there's a lot of pride in that."

I nodded, struggling to meet his stare. Like Patrick's, it was too intense to take.

"Look at me, Eliza," he ordered, nudging my chin up and forcing my eyes to meet his, "Patrick, will make a decent husband, my dear. I have seen to it personally that you will be comfortable and safe."

"Why?" I frowned, "Too make sure that I don't run away."

He smiled and half chuckled, like he didn't think I was serious. He brushed my cheek with the backs of his fingers, once again, clearly seeing the six-year-old that had clung to her father's leg, begging him to never give her up.

He leaned in close to my face and at first I thought he was going to kiss my cheek.

But instead, he whispered, "I have a lot riding on this marriage and so does your father. We're not just talking money, we're talking safety. Our safety, your safety, everybody's safety. You were brought up like a princess, my darling. Now it's time to be a queen."