Chapter 1

Halfway through the wedding, Don Vincent Moretti's most trusted man, Luca Voss, snatched the microphone and proposed a game.

"Let's play 'Patchwork Gown.'" Luca was practically vibrating with excitement. "Everyone tears off a piece of the bride's dress and names their price. Boss Vincent has to buy each piece back. Then we stitch all those blessings into a brand-new gown."

The words had barely left his mouth before he reached over and ripped the thin strap off my shoulder.

I nearly flashed the entire room.

Luca held up the scrap of tulle, winked at me, then aimed his phone at the big screen. "Like this, see? I'll start the bidding. Five thousand."

Vincent looked at him and smiled, indulgent, then took the piece of fabric and transferred the money on the spot. The payment confirmation flashed across the screen, and the banquet hall erupted in cheers.

"Classic Luca!"

"That's how you prove true love, with cold hard cash!"

His men and the guests fed off each other's frenzy.

I clenched my fists, about to refuse, but Vincent leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Luca just wants to make the wedding a little more fun. Don't be a buzzkill."

I froze where I stood.

Three months ago, Luca had stuffed balloons under an oversized jacket, pretended he'd been seriously hurt, and tricked me into pressing my ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat. A balloon popped right against my ear and left me with intermittent hearing loss. Vincent said it was just a funny prank.

On the night of our engagement, Luca deliberately dumped me, blackout drunk, on a curb at three in the morning. Vincent said the same thing then too. He's just playful, it's all in good fun.

In Don Vincent Moretti's eyes, everything Luca did was good fun.

The next second, someone rushed up and tore at my skirt. A panel of white fabric ripped free, and the person waved it in the air, shouting with glee. "Quick! Thirty thousand!"

I stared at Vincent and said, word by word, "You transfer that money, and this wedding is over."

Vincent frowned. "Everyone's here to celebrate. Clara, behave. Don't make a scene."

Luca curled his lip from the sidelines. "Exactly. What a bore."

The next moment, the chime of a thirty-thousand-dollar transfer rang out. The room exploded with screams and laughter, but a strange calm washed over me.

Luca was right.

What a bore indeed.

He raised the microphone and announced, "Let the games begin!"

The crowd surged forward in a wave. I grabbed the mic and shouted, sharp and loud. "Nobody touch me! The wedding is off!"

But the microphone was dead.

My warning drowned beneath the excited roar of the crowd. I stared at Vincent, numb. He had turned off my mic ahead of time.

He stood below the stage, as though he had predicted my resistance all along. He even smiled.

Then he took two steps back, shielded Luca behind him, and let countless hands reach for me.

A ringing noise filled my ears.

Yesterday, my family and friends had been lured to a nearby private island under the pretense of a wedding rehearsal arranged by Luca. The island was registered under the Moretti family name, and the docks and boats were controlled by their people.

Right now, not a single person here was truly on my side.

All because he thought it was fun.

"Rrrrrip."

Another large swath of tulle was torn away. I finally snapped out of it, stumbling backward, screaming until my voice cracked. "Stop it! The wedding is off! I'm calling the police!"

The crowd fell silent for a beat. The person who had just torn my dress froze mid-motion.

But Luca laughed and slung an arm around Vincent's neck, half-hanging off him, waving at the stunned guest. "The bride's kidding. Who ripped that piece? Come get your money!"

Vincent smirked, his eyes full of nothing but indulgence for him.

The person hesitated, then stepped forward. The transfer chime sounded, and the crowd screamed and lunged again.

In no time, I had nowhere left to retreat. My voice was swallowed whole. Countless hands pulling, groping, shoving. The fabric covering my body grew thinner by the second.

"Vincent!"

I screamed his name and curled into myself, arms wrapped tight around my body. Through gaps in the crowd, I saw Vincent finally glance at the pile of shredded white fabric heaped beside him. The smile slid off his face.

"Enough."

The crowd had become a pack of feral animals. They wouldn't stop.

"I said enough!"

The Don had spoken. Several guards stationed at the edges of the hall moved in immediately. The guests dispersed, reluctant, unsatisfied.

Someone murmured, "Couldn't push past those women, but getting to feel up a bride that gorgeous isn't a bad consolation prize."

Another said, "The perks of working for the Moretti Don..."

Vincent's expression turned ice-cold.

He took off his suit jacket and walked toward me. When he saw the red scratches clawed into my arms and legs, his eyes went dark. "Didn't I tell you people to show some restraint?"

Unease rippled through the crowd. The hall buzzed with nervous tension.

Then Luca sneezed. "Is the AC set to arctic in here or what?"

Vincent stopped mid-stride. The next second, he turned around and draped his jacket over Luca's shoulders.

A chill ran through me. Goosebumps rose across my arms.

Luca made a show of shrugging the jacket off. "Come on, Boss, I'm not that delicate."

Vincent pressed a hand on his shoulder. "Behave."

Luca gave a soft huff. "Fine."

I took a deep breath, yanked down the floor-length curtain from the nearest window, and wrapped it around myself before standing up. The moment I took a step, Vincent grabbed me.

"Where are you going? The wedding isn't over."

I laughed coldly. "You think this wedding can continue?"

He studied me for several seconds, then suddenly let go and smiled. "Fair point. The new gown will take a bit of time to piece together. Go rest in the room for now."

In that moment, a thousand things surged to the tip of my tongue. In the end, I said only one.

"Vincent, we're done."