Bittersweet Dark Matrimony

NAYELI.

"Mrs. Thorn," Eric said gently, his voice a stark contrast to the ruthless man described in the papers. The way he spoke, so soft and tender, made it hard to believe all the terrible things written about him.

"I only have two rules for you," he continued, his voice a deep, molten whisper that seemed to melt the air between us. He sat with one leg casually draped over the other, his intense gaze locking onto mine with a power that made my heart pound.

"Which are?" I managed to ask, biting my lip to steady myself.

Eric stood up from the chair across the room, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

He strolled towards me, and with each step, my instinct to retreat grew stronger. I backed away until the wall pressed against my back, trapping me. He pinned me there, his body radiating a heat that made my skin tingle. Leaning in, he unexpectedly inhaled the scent of my neck, which sent a shiver of conflicting sensations through me.

"Rule number one, do not fall in love with me," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin that sent a shiver of conflicting sensations through me.

He grabbed my chin, his grip firm yet oddly tender, forcing me to meet his gaze. He caressed my lower lip with his thumb, sending electric sparks of sensation through me as he leaned in closer. Was he going to kiss me? My eyes fluttered shut, expecting a kiss, my heart pounding in anticipation. But instead, when I opened my eyes, I was met with a sinister smile and a low, mocking laugh as he pulled back.

He turned away, shaking his head, as if dispelling a momentary lapse of judgment and his demeanor shifting back to cold detachment.

"Mr. Thorn!" I called out, the desperation in my voice surprising even me. He stopped and slowly turned, his head tilted, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Second rule... what is it?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

He licked his lips slowly, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Always remember rule number one." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

What makes him think I'd fall in love with someone who just stole me from my own family? Stole... that isn't the right word. I am more of a ransom... right?

Yet, standing here, the ghost of his touch lingering on my skin, I stood frozen, my world crumbling around me. I had just made a deal with the devil, and there was no turning back. Like that my life had changed. How if you ask me?

Earlier that night, I was standing in front of the mirror, my fingers trembling as they traced the delicate fabric of the dress my stepfather, Dave had just handed me. The dress was exquisite, its white satin shimmering softly in the light.

"Why white?" I asked, surprised and confused, I thought we were heading to a party.

Dave, avoiding my gaze, muttered, "It’s the theme."

I frowned, the explanation doing little to ease my bewilderment. "But this looks like a wedding dress," I pressed, my voice tinged with anxiety. "Why would I wear a wedding dress to a party, Dad come on?"

Without looking at me, he added, "It’s not just any dress, Nayeli. This was your late mother's wedding dress."

A wave of emotion hit me. I had always admired my mother’s wedding photos, the dress symbolizing a love story I had cherished. But why now? Why this dress? Before I could ask more questions, my stepfather turned away, leaving me to change and drown in my thoughts.

See, for some reason; I have had like a bad feeling settled deep inside my stomach and it made my heart feel uneasy and it wasn’t normal.

But nevertheless, I tried to ignore it. After all, I have been feeling like this for a very long time now.

I slipped into the dress, the satin cool against my skin. One thing about my mother was that she had an eye for fashion.

The dress had two thin spaghetti straps barely covering my shoulders, cascading into a graceful sweetheart neckline. The relaxed fit moved the focus away from my breasts, maintaining an elegant simplicity without looking sloppy.

I felt a strange mixture of apprehension and nostalgia. The dress fit perfectly, almost as if it were made for me. I glanced at my reflection; my heart heavy with a sense of foreboding I couldn’t quite place.

Downstairs, he was waiting for me in a simple white suit. It was a small comfort, knowing he was also following the party's theme. But his troubled demeanor was evident in the way he moved.

A car, courtesy of the host, was waiting to take us to the venue. The ride was silent, filled only with the nervous jolt of his leg, which did nothing to ease my own anxiety. When we arrived, he grabbed my hand, his grip firm and almost desperate, as if he feared I might run away The ride to the venue was silent, all he did was jolt his leg nervously and made me nervous too. When we got out of the car, he grabbed my hand. But his grip on my hand was so firm, almost as if he were afraid, I might run away or something. The venue was lavishly decorated, the grandeur overwhelming.

Dave guided me through the opulent doors. My breath caught in my throat as the room fell silent, and then, to my shock, everyone stood up, applauding. A wedding song played in the background, the familiar melody sending a shiver down my spine. A lady approached us and placed a veil on my head, covering my face.

No.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Dave; my voice barely audible over the applause.

He leaned closer, his words barely a whisper, “You’re getting married.”

NAYELI.

Haha, he is bluffing, right? He is definitely joking. I’m not getting married.

My heart pounded in my chest, disbelief and fear warring within me. “What? No! Tell me you are joking!” I scoffed, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“Please, Nayeli, just go along with it,” he urged, his voice shaking. “You don’t understand.”

“Hehe. Dave, you’re bluffing, please let me go,” this was the first time in years I called him by his first name.

He just sighed and continued walking, “There's no time to argue.”

I was led down the aisle, my mind racing. When we reached the altar, I saw him—the man I was to marry.

He was casually speaking on his phone, seemingly indifferent to the gravity of the moment. As he ended the call and turned to face me. My pulse raced like a wild animal and it felt as if my heart was threatening to burst free from my chest. His presence exuded power and danger, and a chill ran down my spine.

“Dearly beloved,” he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “we are gathered here today because your father owes me a considerable debt.” He said folding the sleeves of his t-shirt. Did I mention he left the button at the top of the shirt unbuttoned?

Wait… what does he mean?

He walked towards me and removed the veil from my face, and I recognized him instantly.

I couldn’t help but pant.

Eric Thorn, the infamous mafia tycoon. I’ve heard, read, about this man and seen this man on news outlines but I never thought he would look like this.

He had short black hair that reveals his chiseled, handsome face. Piercing gray eyes, set seductively within their sockets. A scar reaching from the top of the right cheek, running towards the left side of his lips and a large beard gorgeously compliments his mouth.

His eyes locked onto mine with a mix of amusement and menace. He stepped back, a sly smile playing on his lips.

My breath hitched as Eric continued, his tone mocking. “And since he can’t repay me with money, he’s offered you instead.”

I turned to my stepfather, my eyes wide with horror. “Is this true?” I demanded, my voice breaking.

He looked down, unable to meet my gaze. “I had no choice, Nayeli. Please, forgive me.”

Eric’s voice cut through our exchange. “Failure to comply,” he paused, pulling out a sleek black gun and pointing it at my stepfather, “means I will kill him.”

Terror gripped me, my mind racing. I glanced at my stepfather, whose face was pale with fear. Eric’s eyes never left mine, the gun steady in his hand. The room seemed to close in on me, the weight of the situation pressing down. With no other choice, I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

Eric’s smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He stepped back, still holding the gun, and signaled for the ceremony to continue. As I stood there, the world around me a blur, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in my chest. I was now bound to Eric Thorn, a man feared by all, including myself. And my life, as I knew it, would never be the same again.

“Do you, Nayeli Barnett, take Eric Thorn to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part??” the pastor asked, his voice solemn.

Until death do us part huh?

My heart hammered in my chest. I glanced at my stepfather one last time, his eyes pleading with me to comply. I took a deep breath, my voice trembling as I replied, “I do.”

Eric stepped forward, slipping a ring onto my finger. His touch was cold, sending a shiver down my spine. “"Do you, Eric Thorn, take Nayeli Barnett to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?” the pastor continued.

Eric’s response was immediate, his voice steady. “I do.”

"I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride."

Kiss?!

Before I could react, Eric's hand shot out, gripping my arm tightly. He pulled me towards him with a force that left me breathless. His other hand cupped the back of my head, and before I knew it, his lips crashed onto mine in a rough, possessive kiss.

I felt a wave of shock and helplessness wash over me. His kiss was aggressive, almost punishing, and I could do nothing but stand there, frozen, as his lips dominated mine. My mind screamed in protest, but my body was paralyzed with fear and confusion.

When he finally pulled away, I was left gasping for breath, my lips tingling and swollen.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Thorn.”

And that’s how I got sealed into a Dark Matrimony.