Page 3 of Forbidden Freedom

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And he called me little sparrow, an endearing little bird.

The entire scene, every forbidden moment, replays in my head as I put myself back together and try to mentally prepare for my new life. For my new husband. It doesn’t matter that all I can think about is the handsome man I just made out with and actually . . .likedit. Does that make me as bad as my cheating husband?

Either my dad or Luigi must have gotten impatient for me to come back to the reception because the instant I open the door fifteen minutes later, someone from the security team is already waiting for me.

Without saying a single word, we take the elevator down and head to the reception, which is taking place in the hotel’s beautiful ballroom. The wedding planner and staff outdid themselves, turning the room into a fairy tale come to life. Everything from the romantic and elegant table decorations to the delicate light-pink-and-white flower arrangements, the stunning sparkling chandeliers, and expensive personalized menu, is absolute perfection.

The security guard stays by the door, and I stop a few feet into the room, taking it all in before I’m spotted and have to play the bride role. I try to feel an ounce of happiness, of excitement for this day, this huge life event, for my future. No matter how small it is, I desperately long to find it, but I only come up empty.

I bet you’d feel differently if you married the handsome stranger you just encountered in your hotel room.

The thought pops in my mind, forbidden and unwanted, and I fight the heat that threatens to overtake my body once more. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about another man on my wedding day, for crying out loud. I married the man, and even if it wasn’t my choice, I need to find a way to deal with it, to make the most of it.

Ihaveto.

I promised my mamma I’d do it because family is everything, and sometimes, sacrifices must be made.

A hand suddenly wraps around my upper arm and drags me to the side.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My dad’s angry voice hits my ear. “You know better than to just wander off like you did.”

“Sorry, Papà. I went to my room to get changed.” I wiggle my arm, trying to put some room between us, but to no avail.

“I don’t give a fuck. And I’m sure Luigi doesn’t appreciate his sposa suddenly disappearing.”

I scoff. “I’m sure he didn’t even notice. He appeared rather occupied wh—”

Papà’s grip tightens on my arm, and I yelp quietly, trying to pull back, but he’s got an iron hold on me.

“Papà, you’re hurting me.”

“It seems like somebody needs to teach you a lesson if you’re acting like a brat.”

For a second, he squeezes even tighter, cutting off my circulation almost entirely, but then he quickly frees my arm, steps up beside me, and grins widely at the man approaching.

“Ciao, Luigi.”

My husband.

Double my age at forty, a little plump around his middle, and with a slightly receding hairline.

The image of him getting a blow job earlier reenters my mind, and I bite the inside of my cheek to remain quiet, even though I’d like nothing more than to call off the marriage for infidelity, but I can’t.

This is my life. It might not be perfect, but it’s going to be okay. Right? It has to be.

Luigi steps up to me and kisses my cheek. “Ciao, bella. There you are. My beautiful bride.”

I want to turn my head, to move away from him so he can’t touch any part of me, but ever the dutiful daughter, I stay frozen in place. Like this isn’t really my life to live but someone else’s. Except I’ve played this role for so long now, what if I’ve already become her without even knowing it.

The overly pungent smell of perfume that surrounds him makes me nauseated to the point I want to throw up, but then he takes a step back and smiles at me, and I return it with the fakest one I can manage.

Family is everything.

La famiglia è tutto.

Two hours later, my husband is dead.

Chapter2


Tags: Jasmin Miller Romance