**Five months ago...* “The date of your wedding is set,” the head of the Giordano family said as his son entered his office. All Yvo could do was furrow his brows at the words of his father. “Why,” he growled as he sat on the couch in front of the don’s desk. His hands fisted on his lap as he gritted his teeth. “The Laurent Corp is taking over the hotel business and red light district industry, their connections also consists of big names. The chairman agreed to have his daughter marry you as a part of the deal.” The don said, lighting his cigar. “They are American by the way.” “What deal?” Yvo asked. It didn’t matter, if the deal was done, he’d just have to go do what he was asked to do. But it didn’t change the fact that he hated it. His father huffed a smoke. “Luxury hotel in Singapore,” was all the boss said. Yvo’s mind was already devising a plan to live freely after he gets married to the mysterious woman. He’d buy a house for her to live in and he would stay in his penthouse. No contact, no problem. *___________________________________* After three days, Yvo found himself dressed in a white tuxedo, standing in front of the altar as his bride–who he never met–walked on the aisle towards him. He couldn’t really make out her face because the veil was a bit thick and he even wondered how the heck she could see with that covering her face. Shit. He thought, moving mechanically to offer his hand to the bride and face the priest. Fuck, this is really happening.* After what seemed like hours of the priest prattling, they finally got to the ‘I do’ part. “Yvo Gabriele Giordano, do you take Amelia Laurent to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do promise to love and cherish her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?” The priest looked at Yvo pointedly. “I do,” was his gruff reply, wanting the wedding to end already.