Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The bedroom was silent except for the soft sound of rain tapping against the large windows. Isabella stood near the edge of the bed, her trembling fingers clutching the heavy fabric of her red gown while her heartbeat pounded violently inside her chest.
Everything about tonight felt wrong.
Enzo stood near the balcony now, loosening the cuffs of his black shirt with slow, controlled movements. His face remained cold, unreadable, but the anger in his eyes had terrified her since the day he forced this marriage upon her.
“You’re shaking,” he finally said without looking at her.
Isabella swallowed hard. “I didn’t do anything.”
At that, Enzo let out a dark laugh and turned toward her. “No,” he said calmly. “Your brother did.”
His footsteps echoed across the room as he walked closer, each step making it harder for her to breathe.
The air itself felt heavy between them, thick with silence, resentment, and something Sara did not want to name. She lowered her gaze instantly when he stopped in front of her, unable to withstand the intensity in his eyes for too long.
Outside, lightning flashed briefly across the dark sky, illuminating the room for a second before darkness settled again.
Enzo studied her quietly.
The red bridal dress. The trembling hands. The fear she was trying desperately to hide.
This was not how he had imagined revenge would feel.
For days, rage had consumed him completely after his elder brother’s death. He had wanted someone to suffer the same helplessness his family had endured. But now, standing in front of Isabella, he felt something dangerously unfamiliar mixing with his anger.
Because she looked terrified, not guilty.
“I should hate you,” he said softly, almost to himself.
Isabella’s throat tightened painfully. “Then hate me,” she whispered. “But don’t expect me to apologize for something I didn’t do.”
Something flickered across his face at her words. Surprise. Perhaps even respect.
No one had spoken to him this way since the funeral.
His fingers slowly reached for the edge of her dupatta, brushing the delicate fabric without removing it. The small touch sent nervousness rushing through Sara’s body instantly.
“You’re braver than I expected,” he murmured quietly.
But there was no comfort in his voice.
Only danger.
“But he ran away,” Enzo continued quietly. “So now you stay.”
Isabella lowered her gaze immediately when he stopped in front of her. Even standing this close to him felt overwhelming. He was tall, intimidating, dangerously calm, he kind of man whose silence felt more threatening than shouting.
“I hate this marriage too,” she whispered.
His fingers suddenly lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Do you think this was about love?” he asked coldly.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then his eyes slowly traveled over her face, lingering on the nervous rise and fall of her breathing. The hatred inside him was real, but so was the undeniable pull he had been fighting since the day he first saw her.
And that only made him angrier.
“You look terrified of me,” he murmured.
“Shouldn’t I be?”
Something dark flickered in his eyes at her answer.
His hand moved slowly from her chin to the side of her neck, warm and possessive, making her entire body tense beneath his touch.
“I should make you suffer for what your family did,” he said softly.
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m not my brother.”
For the first time that night, Shahmir hesitated.
Just briefly.
Because she looked nothing like the monster he had imagined in his head during the past week. She looked frightened. Innocent. Fragile.
And yet she now carried the punishment meant for another man.
And yet she now carried the punishment meant for another man.
His thumb brushed away her tear almost unconsciously before he stepped even closer, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body.
“You’re my wife now,” he said quietly. “Whether either of us wanted this or not.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Isabella’s breath caught when his fingers slowly untangled her dupatta from her shoulders, letting the fabric slip softly to the floor. Her entire body stiffened from nervousness and embarrassment.
“Enzo…” she whispered shakily.
His gaze darkened at the sound of his name on her lips.
There was anger inside him. Revenge. Grief. But beneath all of it was a dangerous attraction neither of them could escape tonight.
He touched her carefully at first, almost as though testing the restraint he was desperately trying to maintain. Every nervous breath she took seemed to affect him more than he wanted.
Isabella closed her eyes when he pulled her closer against his chest, her hands instinctively gripping his shirt.
“You can hate me,” he murmured near her ear, his voice rough now. “But don’t pull away from me.”
Her heart pounded painfully.
Nothing about this marriage felt normal.
Nothing about this night felt gentle.
Yet beneath the fear, there was something else growing quietly between them, something intense and complicated and impossible to understand.
And that frightened her most of all.
Isabella gasped softly when Enzo pulled her against him again, his hands firm around her waist. Every nerve in her body felt painfully aware of his touch, of the closeness between them, of the reality of what this marriage meant.
“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly, her fingers tightening against his shirt.
For a moment, Enzo’s expression changed. The anger was still there, buried deep inside him, but something softer appeared beneath it.
His hand moved gently through her hair before he rested his forehead against hers.
“I know,” he murmured.
The room fell silent except for their uneven breathing.
When he kissed her this time, it was slower, less cruel than before, but still filled with an intensity that made her heart race uncontrollably. Sara trembled as he guided her carefully onto the bed, never taking his eyes off her face.
Everything felt overwhelming, the closeness, the tension, the unfamiliar vulnerability of giving herself to someone who was still almost a stranger.
When he finally held her closer and their distance disappeared completely, a sharp pain made her inhale suddenly. Her eyes squeezed shut instantly as her hands gripped his shoulders.
Enzo froze immediately, his breathing rough as he realized tears had gathered in her eyes.
“Isabella…” he whispered, quieter now than she had heard him all night.
She tried to steady her breathing, embarrassed by her own nervousness. “It hurts,” she admitted softly. It was her first time.
For several seconds, he simply held her, allowing her time to adjust while his hand moved slowly along her back in an unexpectedly comforting gesture.
The anger between them, the revenge, the hatred—all of it blurred for a brief moment beneath the fragile intimacy of the night.
He moved his body slowly at first but later it got intense, so intense that he grabbed her softness and moaned. Many screams died inside Isabella. She did not expect her first night with her husband would be that harsh.
“We belong to each other now,” he said softly, a slow smile spreading across his face as the memory of that moment returned to him — the rush of certainty, the dangerous thrill of crossing a line neither of them could uncross anymore.
Isabella remained silent underneath him.
The dim light in the room traced the sharpness of her features while her eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, distant and unreadable. She could still feel the warmth of his hands against her skin, still hear the echo of his voice wrapping around her like something both comforting and threatening.
He brushed a strand of hair away from her face gently, almost tenderly, but there was something possessive hidden beneath the softness. Something that made her chest tighten.
“Next time, it won't be your first time,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Isabella finally looked at him then. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. The silence between them felt heavier now, filled with emotions neither of them fully understood.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows, the sound steady and intimate in the darkness of the room.
And somewhere inside that silence, something dangerous began to change between them.
Not just desire.
Something deeper.
Something that blurred the line between comfort and obsession, between love and control. They had stepped into unfamiliar territory, and both of them sensed it, even if neither was ready to admit it aloud.
For the first time, Isabella realized she was no longer certain who held the power between them.
Enzo looked at her differently now.
Not merely as the sister of the man he hated, but as someone who had somehow slipped past the walls of his anger and reached the grief hidden beneath it. That frightened him more than revenge ever had. He had entered this marriage wanting control, wanting punishment, wanting victory over the family that had broken his own.
But now, when Isabella looked away from him shyly or whispered his name softly, something inside him weakened.
And Isabellafelt it too.
The dangerous shift in his touch.
The restraint in his voice.
The way his eyes lingered on her not with hatred alone, but with something darker and far more intimate.
Outside, the storm continued quietly in the darkness while the distance between them slowly disappeared, not through trust or forgiveness, but through something far more consuming.
