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BEWARE

♧

BIG SEAN , LIL WAYNE , JHENÉ AIKO

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I GASPED as the corset crushed my ribs, the boning digging into my sides like it had a personal vendetta.

"Ah, see? Fits perfectly," Lottie said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

"Is perfectly code for depriving me of oxygen?" I shot back, wincing as I tried to adjust myself.

Lottie rolled her eyes. "Beauty is pain, Celine."

"Then I must be the Mona Lisa by now," I muttered, earning a stifled laugh from Summer, who was busy twisting my hair into an elaborate bun.

"Hold still," she said, her fingers deftly pinning a section into place. "This bun needs to be tight enough to hold the veil without slipping."

"I'd rather breathe than be beautiful," I muttered under my breath.

"Don't be dramatic," Lottie said with a grin, smoothing down the bodice of the wedding gown. "This dress is a masterpiece. The corset is just doing its job."

"Crushing my ribs is its job?" I shot back, earning a laugh from Summer.

Despite my protests, I couldn't deny the dress was stunning. The ivory silk clung to my frame in all the right places, the delicate lace sleeves trailing down to my wrists. I looked every bit the bride—an image that only made my stomach twist tighter.

"Your father's waiting downstairs," Albert's familiar voice broke the tension as he stepped into the room. He looked sharp as ever in his suit, his expression calm yet unreadable.

"Albert," I said with a small, genuine smile. "If you're here to drag me down the aisle, you're wasting your time."

He tilted his head, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. "You know I'd never drag you anywhere, Miss Celine. But your father—he's not a patient man."

"Don't remind me," I muttered, my earlier frustration flaring again.

The thought of my father downstairs, playing the proud patriarch, made my blood boil. He'd orchestrated this whole charade, pushing me into this fake marriage with Antonio Genovese like I was a pawn on his chessboard. And for what? A stronger alliance? More power? As if he didn't already have enough.

Albert stepped closer, lowering his voice. "For what it's worth, Miss, you look... breathtaking."

"Thanks," I said, my voice softer.

Summer patted my shoulder. "It's showtime. Chin up, Celine. You're about to make history—or at least give half the room heart palpitations."

Lottie handed me the bouquet, her grin mischievous. "Ready to go meet Prince Charming?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'd hardly call him charming."

Still, I let them lead me out of the room, my steps slow and deliberate as I descended the staircase. My father was waiting at the bottom, his expression perfectly composed, as if he hadn't thrown me to the wolves disguised as a family.

"You look lovely," he said, his tone warm but calculated.

"Save it," I replied, slipping my arm through his.

The double doors to the grand hall loomed ahead, the low hum of conversation from the guests muffled behind them. My heart pounded as we approached, every step heavier than the last.

"You'll thank me for this one day," my father said, his voice low.

I scoffed. "Don't hold your breath."

The doors swung open, revealing a sea of faces and the aisle that stretched endlessly before me. At the end of it stood Antonio, his dark eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable but commanding.

My jaw tightened as I stepped forward. If my father thought I'd play the role of a meek, obedient bride, he was sorely mistaken.

My father's grip on my arm was firm, steady, as if reminding me to keep my composure. I straightened my back, refusing to let anyone see the storm brewing inside me.

The divide between the two families was stark, the tension in the air palpable. The Lucianos, sharp and poised in their tailored suits, sat on one side, their gazes wary but curious. The Genovese family occupied the other, exuding an air of quiet menace that sent shivers down my spine.

I caught my sister's polite smile and managed a faint nod in return. My brother, however, was shameless, his smirk so wide it was practically a taunt. I could already imagine the sarcastic remark he'd make later.

Then my gaze landed on Val and Malakai. They sat slightly toward the back, their postures relaxed but their eyes sparkling with mischief. Val gave me a subtle wink, and Malakai pretended to stifle a laugh. I quickly looked away, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from cracking. If I so much as lingered on them, the perfectly curated mask I was wearing would crumble, and the last thing I needed was to burst out laughing in front of the Genovese family.

As we neared the end of the aisle, my heart thudded harder. Antonio stood there, looking infuriatingly composed. His sharp jawline, perfectly tailored suit, and cold, calculating eyes screamed control. He didn't fidget, didn't falter—he simply watched me, his gaze dark and assessing, like I was some sort of challenge he'd already decided to win.

My father leaned close, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "Remember who you are Taipan."

I stayed silent.

When we finally reached Antonio, my father let go of my arm, his fingers lingering for a moment too long. It was as if he was silently commanding me to behave, to play my part in his grand scheme. I stepped forward, meeting Antonio's gaze head-on, refusing to let him see any hesitation.

The officiant began to speak, his voice a distant hum as my thoughts raced.

I hated this. The forced smiles, the suffocating expectations, the knowledge that every single person in this room was watching, waiting for me to falter. But most of all, I hated him—Antonio Genovese, the man who stood before me like he owned the world, like this was just another business transaction he was closing.

He held out his hand, and for a brief moment, I considered leaving him standing there.

But I didn't.

Instead, I placed my hand in his, ignoring the warmth of his skin against mine. His grip was firm, steady, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something I couldn't quite place.

The officiant's voice pulled me back to reality. "Do you, Antonio Genovese, take Celine Luciano to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

He didn't hesitate. "I do."

I swallowed hard as all eyes turned to me.

"And do you, Celine Luciano, take Antonio Genovese to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The room was silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. My father's words echoed in my mind.

I lifted my chin, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest.

"I do."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. It was done. There was no turning back now.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the storm inside me, and gestured for us to exchange rings. Antonio's fingers brushed against mine as he slid the cold metal onto my finger, his touch deliberate but not tender. It felt like a formality, a step in a process neither of us had chosen, but were bound to follow.

And then, he spoke.

"You may kiss the bride," the officiant announced, his voice carrying through the grand hall.

I froze for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest. This—this part of the ceremony—I had dreaded more than anything. I hadn't agreed to this union, and yet, here I was, expected to play my part, to pretend for the sake of everyone watching.

I could feel Antonio's presence looming beside me, his energy unwavering. His eyes were locked onto mine, unreadable as ever, and for a second, I saw something flicker—something deeper, but it was gone before I could understand it.

Slowly, he leaned in, his movements smooth and controlled, as if every moment was calculated. His lips brushed against mine. It was brief, too brief to mean anything, but I felt it—his touch was possessive, marking me, claiming me in front of the people who would be watching our every move from now on.

The crowd applauded, but the sound felt muffled in my ears, as if I were underwater. My breath caught in my throat, but I forced myself to exhale, to regain control. This wasn't about us. It never had been. It was about the power, the alliances, the game we were both forced to play.

Antonio stepped back, his hand still holding mine as he turned toward the guests, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You're mine now," his words were low, only for me to hear.

It was a statement. A fact.

And I hated it.

The wedding dinner was beautiful. The grand hall was lit by chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the room. The long table was adorned with white roses and candles, creating a soft, romantic ambiance. But the beauty of the scene felt like a joke to me. The elegance of the setting was nothing more than a mask to cover the tension in the air. Every smile felt forced, every laugh an attempt to appear civilized.

Antonio and I sat across from each other, smiles plastered on our faces for the sake of the cameras, the guests, the families. He was perfect, as always, effortlessly charming. But I could feel the coldness radiating off him. We were the picture of a happy couple, but it was all a lie. We both knew it, but neither of us was willing to break character.

I kept my eyes fixed ahead, pretending to enjoy the soft chatter around us. But I could feel Antonio's presence, every subtle movement, his gaze following mine like a predator watching its prey.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my head just enough to catch his eye, glaring at him from the corner of my vision.

"Keep stepping on my dress and you will lose your leg," I muttered under my breath, low enough for only him to hear.

He didn't even flinch, his smirk deepening. "Maybe if your dress wasn't taking up half the room, I wouldn't have to step on the piece of shit."

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on my glass. "Yeah, funny. Keep speaking, and you'll be buried in the same suit you got married in."

Antonio chuckled, his voice smooth and dripping with mockery. "And I'm supposed to be scared?"

"You're talking to the Taipan. Yes, you are," I shot back, my voice low and dangerous.

For a second, his smirk faltered, just a fraction, but it was enough to show that he knew exactly what I was capable of. He leaned back in his chair, his posture effortlessly poised. "You're playing a dangerous game, Celine," he said, his voice cold.

"I'm just getting started, Antonio," I replied, my eyes locking with his.

We both knew that this game was far from over.

The dinner continued, the music gently humming in the background, but the conversation around the table began to take on a different energy. It was then that Antonio's mother, Signora Genovese, stood up, a wine glass clutched in her hand, her movements just a little too unsteady. The guests hushed immediately, eyes turning toward her as she cleared her throat, her smile wide but tinged with something more raw.

"Ah, my dear Antonio..." she began, her voice slightly slurred but full of warmth. "I... I remember when you were just a boy. A stubborn, little brat, really." She chuckled to herself, swaying slightly as she looked at him, her expression softening. "Always getting into trouble, always pushing my buttons, but look at you now... my son... a man... married. To a beautiful woman, no less." Her eyes flickered over to me, her smile faltering for just a moment before she returned to her son.

Antonio didn't flinch, his expression neutral, though there was a faint trace of tension around his eyes. He didn't like being the center of attention, especially not like this.

"Now, Celine," she continued, turning to me with a somewhat misty gaze, "I know... I know it hasn't been easy, but... I can see it in your eyes. You love him. And that makes me so happy. You've got your hands full, dear," she added, slurring the last part, "but I have no doubt you'll keep him in line. God knows... I couldn't."

A few awkward chuckles rippled through the room, but her words hung there, heavy with the kind of emotion only a mother can muster. For a moment, I almost felt... something. A sliver of tenderness, maybe even for her. But then her gaze drifted back to Antonio.

"I just want the best for you both... and may... may your life together be filled with... uh, joy, and patience... and all that good stuff." Her voice wavered, and she raised her glass in a clumsy toast. "To the happy couple!"

"Cheers!" she said a little too loudly, swaying slightly on her feet as she gave a half-hearted wave with the glass.

With that, she wobbled back toward her seat, a slight hiccup escaping her before she sat down and giggled to herself. The room went silent for a beat, unsure how to respond to the unexpected outburst, before the clinking of glasses resumed, and the conversation picked up again.

After a few moments, Signora Genovese excused herself, visibly tipsy but still managing to smile as she made her way toward the exit. "I think... I think I need to lie down now," she announced with a grin, her voice slightly too loud. "But don't mind me... I'll just... go home."

And with that, she disappeared into the hallway, her presence gone as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind an air of both amusement and awkwardness. Antonio's shoulders stiffened slightly, his gaze flicking toward the door she had left through, but he didn't speak. Instead, he picked up his drink, swirling it absentmindedly, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere.

The wedding dinner finally wrapped up, the guests trickling out with their own chatter and laughter filling the air. I could feel the exhaustion setting in as the long day finally drew to a close. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way toward the car, Antonio trailing just a few steps behind me. His silence was maddening, but I didn't care. Not tonight.

Once we reached the car, Albert, the ever-dutiful butler, was already waiting with the door open. He gave us a polite nod as we climbed into the backseat, the tension thick between us. I leaned back, eyes closing for a moment as the world outside blurred by.

As we pulled up to the Genovese estate, the familiar, looming mansion greeted us. But tonight, there was an eerie stillness to it, as if even the walls knew what was coming. When the car stopped, Antonio and I exchanged a glance before stepping out, neither of us eager to return to the gilded cage that was our new home.

Albert was already inside, holding the door open, his eyes meeting mine with an expression I couldn't quite read. He didn't say a word, simply gesturing for us to enter. We both stepped in, and the moment the door closed behind us, Albert turned to us with a look that brooked no argument.

"Madam Genovese's orders," he said, his voice steady. "You two will sleep in the same bed tonight."

I blinked, momentarily stunned. "What?"

"You heard me," Albert replied, his tone not leaving room for discussion. "I suggest you both head upstairs and get some rest. It's what she requested."

Antonio and I both stared at him for a long beat, neither of us quite sure how to respond. Then, without warning, Albert started toward the stairs. His footsteps echoed through the quiet foyer.

"You can't be serious," I muttered under my breath, but Albert was already a few steps ahead of us, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I am," he said with a small, almost smug smile, though his face remained as impassive as ever. "It's for the best. Madam Genovese insists."

There was nothing more to say. I shot a glare at Antonio, who only raised an eyebrow in return. If looks could kill, we'd both be six feet under. But for now, we were stuck in this bizarre charade.

We made our way up the stairs in tense silence, both of us fully aware of the absurdity of the situation. Once we reached the room, Albert stood in the doorway, waiting for us to step inside.

"Get some rest," he instructed, his voice carrying a tone of finality that told me no amount of arguing would change anything. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Antonio and I were left standing there, awkwardly, in the middle of what could only be described as our forced reality.

I stood still for a moment, arms crossed, trying to keep my cool. "I swear, this is insane. I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you."

Antonio just smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Funny. You're the one who said you'd bury me in the same suit. Now we're going to sleep in the same bed. Life's full of surprises, huh?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I went straight for the bed, sitting down at the edge with an exaggerated sigh, refusing to look at him. He followed my lead, though his posture was far less rigid, more casual in the way he sat.

We both knew this was a power move—a game of control—and for once, I wasn't going to let him have the upper hand.

Antonio got up after a few moments, walking to the closet to pull out a pair of pajamas. "This isn't permanent, you know," he said as he changed, his voice more conversational than anything. "We'll deal with this tomorrow. Your father's little scheme won't last long."

"Good to know," I replied, not bothering to look up as I undressed in my own corner of the room. "But that doesn't mean I'm not pissed."

He chuckled softly. "I know."

Once we were both in our respective pajamas, there was an awkward silence that settled over us like a thick fog. Then, finally, Antonio turned off the lights and slid into the bed beside me, as if this was some normal arrangement. His body warmth seeped through the thin sheets, and I could feel his presence too close for comfort.

"I'll be damned if I'm actually going to pretend this is comfortable," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn't respond, but the slight, almost imperceptible grin on his face told me everything I needed to know.

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sloppy ass chapter I know don't hurt me 😔 but what do y'all think?? I lowkey can't wait to see what they do next with each other cause something tells me that Antonio's gonna end up with another bullet in his chest but GIRLL who knows

anyways love y'all and please drinks water !!

-zio 🍸