The Mafia Boss' Crazy Ex

Piper's POV

My slender fingers dig into the layers of satin and tulle, as if wanting to claw my pathetic way out of the suffocating cocoon. The white elastic corset constricts my waist, making each breath a chore for me. I feel like a small bird in a damned cage, its wings clipped and helpless.

As the church doors swing open, a warm glow spills out, illuminating my light brown wavy hair. My honey brown eyes sweep over the sea of expectant faces, my heart sinking like a stone. Soft strains of violin and keyboard fill the air, a serene melody that mocks joyfully makes mockery of my turmoil.

I'll honestly rather be anywhere else; back in my nightclub, surrounded by the pulsating beat and the freedom to be myself. But here I am, trapped in this terrible nightmare, forced to play the role of a dutiful bride.

With a deep breath and my red-coloured lips, I, Piper Evans, unfortunate daughter of Richard Evans, take my first step toward my destruction, the weight of my gown and my resentment threatening to crush me.

My eyes scan the crowd, searching for an escape, but there is none. Then I know, like I know my monthly cycle, that I am walking into my doom, one slow, deliberate step at a time.

The music swells, like the musicians just woke up, a crescendo of calm that only fuels my rage. My tightly stuffed chest burns with anger, my mind racing with the lies I'll have to tell, the smiles I'll have to fake, and the freedom I'll have to surrender. I'm a wild bird, caged and silenced, forced to conform to the expectations of others. And it is suffocating me.

My stilettos click on the marble floor, each step deliberately slow-motioned, protesting against the fate awaiting me. I drag my feet, stretching the shorting distance to the altar, as if the extra seconds could somehow alter the course of my destiny.

My father's glare burns into my skin, a silent warning to hasten my pace. I know better than to test his patience; I mean, I've seen him lock away disobedient employees in the basement cells of our estate. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I force myself to move, albeit at a glacial pace.

The tight, boned corset and layers of tulle restrict my movement, making each step a precarious balancing act. My eyes dart to the stairs, imagining the humiliation of tumbling down them, my gown a tangled, ivory cloud around me.

Disgrace

As I reache the midpoint, I lift my chin, schooling my features into a mask of resignation. But the moment my gaze meets Roland's- his towering fame and tattoo-covered neck- my composure crumbles. His eyes, cold and calculating, seem to bore into my very soul, and my heart rebels against the mad union.

My lips curl into a snarl, and I feel my face heat up in anger. I want to scream, to shatter the glittering glass windows and shatter the farce of this cursed wedding. But the weight of my father's expectations, the crushing pressure of my circumstances, keep me mute and trapped. My eyes flash with defiance, but I continue my slow, reluctant march toward the altar, toward the man I am doomed to marry.

My damned ex.

Roland's gaze doesn't waver. His eyes shamelessly hold a mixture of triumph and contempt, as if he knows he's won a prize he doesn't even want. My skin crawls under his scrutiny, and there's an undeniable surge of resentment towards my father for forcing me into this union. For refusing to give me another chance.

The minister's voice drones on, but I tune him out. I can't bear to hear the words that will bind me to this man. My eyes roam the crowd, searching for an escape or a friendly face, but I finds none. I am alone in my misery, trapped in a sea of expectant smiles and polite applause. Selling my future to a Don. A fucking, ruthless, deceitful mafia boss. Someone I'd sworn never to date again.

I wonder if they know that the man beside me, the one I am about to vow to love and cherish, is a mastermind of evil? That his wealth and power are built on the suffering of others?

The thought makes my stomach churn. Why are they celebrating this falsehood?

In all this insanity, only two people truly stand to gain from this union: my father, who will secure his business interests, and Roland, who will expand his empire. I, as usual am just a pawn, a mere accessory to their deal.

My eyes snap back to Roland, who's quiet beside me, his expression is infuriatingly as unreadable as ever. His stoic mask makes me look like a desperate, lovesick fool. My anger flares at the thought of the headlines that will likely splatter the tabloids tomorrow: "Desperate Heiress Weds Ruthless Drug Lord" or "Love Conquers All: Piper Evans Ties the Knot with Roland White". The very thought feeds me with the urge to scream out my lungs.

My eyes lock onto Father Gerald's, his voice dripping with false sincerity. I nod, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but Roland''s gaze snaps to mine, his eyes narrowing into slits. I feel a cold shiver run down my spine as he seems to bore into my soul, warning me to comply.

"Yes," I whisper, the word barely audible, but enough to satisfy the formalities. I can't help but think of the contract, the one I signed under duress, the one that binds me to this monster and this life. If I hadn't agreed, father would have made sure I pay the price.

Prison, or worse.

My eyes drop, my gaze falling on the ornate rings that symbolize my captivity. I feel a strong surge of resentment towards the blond haired, blue eyed demon, resentment towards my baldheaded father, and towards the fate that has been forced upon me. I am a prisoner in this traumatic cage, and I knows it.

"GET DOWN!"

I barely grasp the loud warning when someone aggressively slams into me.