He Missed Our Wedding, So I Married His Enemy Chapter 03

He Missed Our Wedding, So I Married His Enemy Chapter 03

ALESSIA

For several long seconds, Carlos said nothing.

Then he slowly straightened.

He was only a year older than me.

Standing before him still made it hard to breathe.

“I warned you before.”

His voice was low.

“Lorenzo Salvi was never right for you.”

I did not argue.

“Your wedding is next month.”

“Now he has made you angry, so you came running to ask me for marriage.”

Carlos looked at me.

Each word came slowly.

“What am I to you, Alessia?”

“A weapon you and Lorenzo can use against each other?”

His question struck the place where I was most ashamed.

I closed my eyes and admitted the truth.

“I chose the wrong man.”

“You were right.”

The room became even quieter.

Carlos’s mouth tightened.

I lowered my voice.

“Lorenzo and I were supposed to register our marriage today.”

“He never came. He announced Camilla instead.”

“I’ve canceled the wedding, and the Bellandis will withdraw their support.”

What I was doing was not honorable.

Marriage should not be a bargaining chip.

But neither Carlos nor I had the luxury of living only for ourselves.

Three years ago, he left school and took control of a Varela family on the edge of ruin.

I could not allow one bad choice to destroy the Bellandi Group my father spent his life building.

Marriage to Carlos offered me more advantages than losses.

But for him…

I stopped.

I had already prepared myself for him to order me out.

Instead, Carlos held the cue toward me.

“There are three balls left.”

I stared.

“Sink them, and I’ll agree.”

“Really?”

He looked away.

“Ask me after you sink them.”

Then he walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of ice water.

I stood beside the table with the cue in my hands.

I did not know how to play billiards.

I tried to remember Carlos’s movements and bent over awkwardly.

My first shot went in.

For two seconds, I only stared.

Then I looked at Carlos.

He clearly had not expected it either.

His water stopped halfway to his lips.

“Two left.”

He took a drink as though nothing had happened.

I needed three tries to hit the second ball.

Carlos did not mention how many rules I had broken.

So I shamelessly continued.

On my fifth attempt, the ball finally rolled into a pocket.

Only the red three ball remained.

It sat at the far end of the table.

When I struck softly, the cue ball never reached it.

When I used more force, the cue ball flew off the table.

One of the guards outside heard the noise and opened the door.

Carlos looked at him once.

The door closed again.

I pretended nothing had happened.

I tried more than a dozen times.

With every miss, I became more nervous.

Sweat made the cue slippery in my palms.

At one in the morning, I finally decided to give up.

“One last try.”

“If it doesn’t go in, I’ll accept that as fate.”

I drew a deep breath and drove the cue forward.

I missed.

The red ball barely moved.

Fine.

I set down the cue in defeat.

“Carlos…”

Before I finished, he came up behind me.

Carlos took my hand and placed the cue between my fingers again.

“I’ll teach you.”

He guided my body forward.

His chest pressed against my back.

Heat traveled through two thin layers of clothing.

“Watch the ball.”

“Put your hand here.”

His voice came from directly above me.

I could feel the faint vibration of his chest with every word.

My mind emptied.

The cue cracked against the ball.

A second sound followed.

The red ball dropped into the pocket.

It went in.

I turned my head.

Carlos had not released me.

Only a few inches separated our faces.

Close enough for me to see an emotion flash through his eyes.

Before I could understand it, he straightened and pulled me up with him.

“Nine tomorrow morning.”

“Outside the Manhattan marriage bureau.”

I blinked.

“All right.”

Carlos drove me home himself.

I barely slept.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw him behind me, guiding my hands as he said, I’ll teach you.

At seven in the morning, he sent a message.

Bring your identification.

My attorneys will handle the waiting-period waiver.

I stared at the screen.

Only then did I understand what had happened.

Yesterday, I won.

Today, I was marrying Carlos Varela.

At eight thirty, I stepped out of my apartment.

A familiar black car stopped in front of me.

The window lowered, revealing Carlos’s cold profile.

“Get in.”

When the clerk took our photograph, I was worried.

Carlos always looked too severe.

The picture might make it seem as though I had forced him to marry me at gunpoint.

But after one photograph, the clerk smiled.

“Perfect.”

“You make a beautiful couple.”

Even after I received the marriage certificate, everything felt unreal.

Carlos was smiling in the photograph.

Only slightly.

But he was smiling.

He even looked gentle.

Why did the real man always look as though he were preparing to make someone disappear from New York?