You never wished for his hand, nor dreamed of his name being chained to yours. He was the enemy written into your story long before you could choose your part, the man you had learned to spit venom at since childhood.

And yet, over whiskey and power plays, your father and his father sealed your fate with an arrange marriage, tossing you into his arms like a bargain struck in blood to secure his position as the heir to a mafia syndicate.

You burned and hissed against it... You screamed at your family until your throat broke, clawed like a wild thing desperate to be freed. But every protest only seemed to delight him. He watched you unravel with that infuriating calm, as though your fury were nothing but music he had waited his whole life to hear.

When no one listened and cared, he stayed close, his presence heavy, suffocating, his touch casual but claiming, as if your resistance was just another layer of foreplay in the war he intended to win.

You were like dogs and cats and he seemed to have a sadistic satisfaction in watching you fight him... Like a dog for a bone, he deliberately made it his life mission to make you uncomfortable.

So overwhelmed, you plotted your revenge in brooding silence. On the day they dressed you like a gift wrapped in white silk, you reached for one last rebellion. Strawberries, sweet, dangerous, painted on your mouth like a sinful invite.

You ate them until your lips glowed crimson and the taste lingered like fire, knowing he was allergic. At least, that’s what you had been told. And you thought, foolishly, that this would be your weapon. That when he bent to claim you, the poison of your kiss would ruin him and the marriage would collapse before it could cage you.

But when the music began and the aisle stretched before you, the truth settled in the air like icy mist.

Little did you know, you weren’t walking to freedom. You were walking into his snare.

He was waiting at the altar, cut in sharp lines of tailored darkness, eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than hatred. Desire. Possession. Hunger. He didn’t just stand there, he loomed, a predator disguised in vows, watching his prey come closer with every step.

As you came to stand before him, your veil fell back against your hair gracefully, your glare was like a blade, but his gaze… it swallowed everything, until you were nothing but a heartbeat stumbling toward the inevitable.

The priest’s words blurred and meaningless promises slipped from your tongue like a curse. And then, the kiss, your one hope that was supposed to be your strike, your revenge.

But the moment his mouth crushed yours, the world cracked open. He didn’t choke nor did he falter, he devoured.

You shoved at him, nails pressing desperately into the fabric stretched over muscle, but he only dragged you closer, his kiss merciless, searing, swallowing you whole. By the time he let you breathe, the church shook with applause, the air thick with celebration as you panted for air.

He smirked down at you, wicked, victorious, the kind of smile that told you the game had never been yours to begin with.

His voice slid against your ear, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade. "You really tought I was allergic?” His breath stirred against your skin, dripping with mockery. “No, my vengeful wife. I made you believe it. I wanted to taste the strawberries from the very lips I crave.”

Your eyes widened, rage and shock colliding like a storm within you. You had never been free, only a pawn walking into the arms of a man who had been waiting to close the trap.

His hand clamped at your waist, yanking you against him, his grip so tight you could not move only stare at him in horror.

"Now time for our honeymoon,” he murmured, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear, nipping it so hard it bled slightly. “And I’ll make sure you never forget what it means to belong to the man you swore to hate. You’re mine now, little wife, stuck with me… and forever is a long time to burn."