Author's Note:

Hey, Reader's! 🌟💌

Okay, so I see y'all reading 👀 (yup, I can see those views climbing 👏), but why are my comments and votes looking so EMPTY? 🥺 Like, where's the love, fam? Your girl is out here pouring her heart and soul into this story, and y'all are ghosting me?! 💔

If you want the next chapter-YES,  Taehyung x Miso WEDDING NIGHT chapter 😏🔥-then you need to drop a vote, leave a comment, or SOMETHING to show me you're enjoying this! 💬❤️ Trust me, your little bit of support makes a HUGE difference, and it motivates me to write faster! ( If not I'll unpublished this story as from the past few days I've been feeling demotivated!!!!

So, if you're as excited for that wedding night chaos as I am, LET ME KNOW! 🙌 Your support = faster updates. DEAL? 😘

Much love,
lavendermiso 💕

⁠♡♡ ⁠♡♡

The dining hall was awash in soft golden light, reflecting off the chandeliers that hung high above, casting delicate patterns across the room. Servers moved swiftly, weaving through the tables to lay down plates of antipasti before us. Platters overflowed with thin slices of veal Carpaccio, delicate Vitello Tonnato, Beef stroganoff, Borscht, creamy Mozzarella di Bufala, Pirozhki, and an entire leg of Parma ham set proudly in the center of the table. Italian cheeses, octopus salad, marinated calamari, fresh green salads, and warm ciabatta completed the spread. It was a feast meant to impress, a lavish display of wealth and tradition.

I stared down at my empty plate, watching as a server filled my glass with white wine. I took a sip, grateful for the slight burn of the alcohol, which numbed the edges of my nerves. The champagne I'd sipped earlier mingled with it, leaving me feeling just a little hazy, though still painfully aware of every glance cast our way.

Taehyung's hand found mine, his touch cool but firm, pinning my fingers to the table before I could reach for my glass again. "You should stop and eat," he murmured, his voice a low command meant only for me. His gaze was unwavering, his expression as hard and unyielding as ever. If it weren't for the prying eyes surrounding us, I would have ignored him, tilted my head back, and downed the entire glass in defiance.

But I didn't. Instead, I picked up a slice of bread, took a small, forced bite, then set it back down on my plate. It tasted like nothing. Every chew felt mechanical, as if I were only going through the motions. Taehyung's lips tightened, a brief flicker of displeasure crossing his face, but he didn't press me to eat more, not even when the next course-a delicate soup-was served. I barely glanced at it, and soon, the servers whisked it away, untouched.

When the lamb roast was brought out, my stomach twisted. Whole lambs were carried to each table on rotisserie carts, their golden skin glistening under the lights. The tradition, I knew, was to serve the bride and groom first. The cook approached, knife in hand, and carved a slice for Taehyung, who accepted it with a nod. Before I could refuse, he gestured for the cook to carve a piece for me as well.

"Eat," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

I forced myself to take a small bite, the taste of lamb and rosemary filling my mouth. I swallowed, following it with a mouthful of truffled mashed potatoes, though each bite felt heavy, my throat tight with the effort. I set down my cutlery after a few bites, feeling my stomach rebel. Another sip of wine slid down, momentarily easing the discomfort.

Thankfully, Taehyung turned his attention to the men seated nearby, engaging them in a conversation about recent attacks by the Triads on a club in New York. It was a reprieve from his watchful gaze, a brief moment to sink back into my chair and let the sounds around me blur into a dull hum. The servers continued to pile plates with roasted potatoes, grilled asparagus, and a myriad of other dishes, but my appetite was gone, replaced by a hollow ache that no amount of food could fill.

Then, the band struck up a lively tune, signaling the start of the dancing. A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd, and Taehyung stood, extending his hand toward me with a look that brooked no refusal.

I placed my hand in his, feeling his fingers tighten around mine as he guided me to my feet. The room spun for a moment, a brief wave of dizziness washing over me. Before I could steady myself, a familiar chant broke out among the guests: "Bacio, Bacio!"

My cheeks burned as I glanced over to see Beomgyu leading the chant, a smug grin plastered on his face. Mo-eum, seated at our table, shot him a glare so sharp it could cut steel, her hands curling into fists at her sides. I wished she would storm over and silence him, but the guests had joined in, their voices growing louder, demanding a kiss.

Taehyung didn't wait for my approval. He pulled me close, his arm snaking around my waist as he angled his face toward mine. I stumbled slightly, and his grip tightened, his chest solid beneath my palms as I pressed against him, dizzy and unsteady. His lips brushed against mine, barely a kiss, just enough to placate the crowd. The cheers and whistles filled the air, blending with the music.

He pulled back, his eyes holding mine for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a silent warning I couldn't quite decipher. Then, with his arm still firmly around my waist, he guided me toward the center of the dance floor. To the onlookers, we must have looked like a perfectly united couple, but I knew the truth. His embrace was not one of love but of control, his arm a steel cage keeping me upright, preventing me from swaying under the weight of exhaustion and wine.

The music shifted to a slow waltz, and Taehyung's hand slid down my back, pulling me flush against him. His other hand caught mine, guiding it to rest on his shoulder. The proximity forced me to rest my cheek against his chest, and for the first time, I felt the cold outline of a gun beneath his suit jacket. Even on our wedding night, even amid the layers of tradition and formality, he remained armed. It was a reminder of the life we led, a world in which even a wedding could be interrupted by violence.

"Try not to pass out," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear as he began to move us in time with the music. His voice was tinged with amusement, but his words carried a warning.

I focused on his steps, letting him lead me in the dance, my limbs heavy and unsteady. His strength was the only thing keeping me upright, his arm a steady anchor as he guided me through the movements. I could barely remember the steps, but Taehyung never faltered. He carried me through the dance with effortless precision, each turn and step as smooth as if it had been rehearsed.

As the song drew to a close, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Once we're back at the table, you'll eat," he whispered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I don't want you to pass out during our celebration-and much less during our wedding night."

The meaning behind his words settled over me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see the fear or hesitation in my eyes. Instead, I forced myself to nod, my expression as blank and composed as I could manage.

When the dance ended, Taehyung led me back to our table, his arm still around me, his grip possessive. The guests clapped and cheered, their faces alight with joy and anticipation, none of them the wiser to the silent turmoil that churned within me.

I took my seat, and he placed a plate in front of me, loaded with small portions of everything from the antipasti to the main course. He sat beside me, watching as I picked up my fork and took a bite, each mouthful mechanical, tasteless. I forced myself to eat, knowing that any resistance would only provoke him further.

The celebration around us continued, laughter and music filling the air, but I felt like an outsider, trapped in a role I hadn't chosen, surrounded by people who would never understand the prison I found myself in.

And beside me, Taehyung sat, his presence a constant reminder that there was no escape from this life he had pulled me into.

________________________

The music stopped abruptly, a sharp cut that echoed through the lavish ballroom. Beomgyu clapped his hands, the sound a clear command to silence the guests. "Time to throw the garter!" he announced with a grin that spread across his face like wildfire, catching everyone's attention.

The crowd shifted and buzzed, eager for the next part of the show. Taehyung and I froze in the center of the dance floor, aware of the eyes now trained on us. Guests moved to form a semi-circle around us, some standing on chairs, others holding their kids up so they could get a better view. I felt the weight of their stares, but I tried to block it out, focusing on Taehyung, who now knelt before me, his gaze locked onto mine.

With a playful raise of his brows, he waited. I swallowed hard, gripped the hem of my gown, and lifted it just enough to reveal my thighs. The delicate lace of the garter sat against my skin, and I felt a tremor ripple through me at the thought of what was about to happen.

Then, a chill ran down my spine as Taehyung's face appeared beneath my gown. His breath was warm against my skin as his fingers slid up my thighs, brushing the sensitive flesh there. I froze, the touch light but unsettling. Goosebumps rose on my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room.

I held my breath, my mind racing with confusion and dread, even though his touch wasn't harsh. Still, I couldn't shake the terror that coiled in my stomach. Taehyung's eyes didn't leave my face as he watched, studying my reaction with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

His fingers brushed the garter, the delicate fabric catching under his fingertips before he lowered the gown just enough so that the crowd couldn't see the full length of my leg. I gripped the hem harder, the soft fabric twisting in my fingers. Then, with one swift motion, Taehyung bent closer, his lips grazing the skin just above the garter.

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to maintain my composure, to look like the smiling bride everyone expected. But his proximity, the heat of his breath, the feel of his lips brushing my inner thigh- My skin prickled with goosebumps, not from desire but from the sheer vulnerability of the moment.

Taehyung's teeth grazed my skin as he bit down lightly, leaving a mark that made my heart race. His movements were deliberate, controlled. He didn't hurry. He pulled the garter down slowly, his eyes on me the entire time, reading my face, perhaps searching for any sign of resistance. The garter landed softly at my white heels, the lace crumpling in the stillness that followed.

I raised my foot, allowing him to pick it up, he straightened, holding it up like a trophy for the crowd,it all ignited something in me that I didn't want to acknowledge. The sound of applause filled the room, but it didn't reach me. My smile was forced, my hands clapping mechanically in response. I saw the others, clapping, laughing-beaming at the spectacle-but one person stood out: Mo-eum. She watched, her face as expressionless as mine, but with a darkness I could feel from across the room.

The crowd seemed to loosen up, but I couldn't shake the tension that tightened my chest. The boys, eager to participate in the next part of the show, stepped forward-Angelo among them. His scowl was a clear sign he didn't want to be here, yet he had little choice in the matter. I winked at him, and he poked out his tongue in return, making me laugh despite the tightness in my chest.

Beomgyu's voice boomed as he held the garter up in the air, his gaze now trained on the unmarried women in the crowd. "Any willing Russian ladies out there who want to further the bond between our families?" His eyebrows wiggled playfully, the crowd erupting in laughter and teasing cheers.

I felt a pang of unease as I watched Lily jump up, her excitement too obvious to ignore. She was eager, ready for the attention, her bright smile wide and inviting. The thought of Beomgyu's eyes on her made something inside me twist, though I quickly pushed it aside. She was just a nineteen-year-old girl, and no one here took her seriously. Not yet. But I couldn't stand the idea of Beomgyu choosing her, of him using her for his amusement.

I tried to focus, pulling my attention back to the dance floor where Taehyung's hand found my waist. His grip was firm, possessive. I flinched, and I saw the slight shift in his expression-something cold, something calculating. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer.

His voice was low as he spoke, the words just for me. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone unreadable.

I didn't respond immediately, my mind too tangled in a web of emotions. His touch on me was possessive, yes, but it felt colder than I expected, like a reminder that I belonged to him now, body and soul.

Lily's shrill laugh cut through my thoughts as Beomgyu led her onto the floor, his hand low on her back. It was a playful moment for everyone else, but for me, it felt like a warning. A reminder of what I had just stepped into.

The music played softly in the background as we waltzed across the floor, my eyes flicking back to Lily and Beomgyu, their laughter a sharp contrast to the silence I felt swirling around me. My chest tightened further.

I needed a few moments to myself or I'd lose it. I lifted my gown off the ground and hurried to the edge of the garden where grass met the bay
before I walked down the few steps that led to the dock where a yacht was lying in wait. To my right a long beach stretched out. The ocean was black under the night sky and the breeze tugged at my dress and ripped strands from my updo. I stepped out of my high heels and jumped off the dock, my feet landing in the cool sand. Closing my eyes, I listened to the sound of the waves.

The wooden boards creaked and I tensed before glancing over my shoulder and spotting Mo-eum. She shook off her own shoes and joined me on the beach, wrapping an arm around me.

"Tomorrow you'll leave for New York and I'll head back to Moscow," she whispered. I swallowed hard. "I'm scared."

"Of tonight?" she asked.

"Yes," I admitted. "Of tonight and every night that follows. Of being
alone with Taehyung in a city I don't know, surrounded by people I know even less, people who might still be the enemy. Of getting to know Taehyung and finding out he's the monster I think he is. Of being without you and Yoongi.

"We will come to visit as often as Father allows it. And about
tonight." Mo-eum's voice turned hard. "He can't force you."

I let out a choked laugh. Sometimes I forgot that Mo-eum was younger
than me. These were the moments that reminded me. "He can. He will."

"Then you'll fight him with all you've got."

"Moeum," I said in a whisper.

"Taehyung is going to be Capo dei Capi. He's a born fighter. He'll laugh at me if I try to resist. Or my refusal will make him angry and then he'll really want to hurt me." I paused. "Mother
told me I should give him what he wants, that I should try to make him be good to me, try to make him love me."

"Promise me you'll be strong. Promise me you won't let him treat
you like a whore. You are his wife." Mo-eum said.

"I promise." I said Mo-eum turned and her expression
darkened.

"Taehyung sent his lapdog. Maybe he was worried you'd run."
I followed her gaze to find Liam standing at the crest of the small
hill overlooking the bay and the dock.

"We should have taken that yacht and ran away."

"Where could I run? He'd follow me to the end of the world." I
glanced at the elegant diamond bracelet around my wrist. I didn't know Taehyung, but I knew men of his kind. They were possessive. Once you belonged to them, there was no escaping. "We should go back. The wedding cake will be presented soon." I said to Mo-eum.

Taehyung's eyes settled on me the moment I returned to the festivities.
Many guests were already drunk, and some had moved up to where the pool was and were taking a swim fully clothed. Taehyung held his hand out and I bridged the distance between us and took it. "Where were you?"

"I just needed a moment to myself."
There was no time for further discussions as the cook rolled a table
with our wedding cake toward the center.

It was white, had six tiers and was decorated with rose flowers. Taehyung and I cut it under another round of applause, and put the first piece onto our plate.

Taehyung picked up a fork and fed me a bit as a sign that he'd provide for me, and I then fed him a piece as a sign that I'd take care of him as a good wife was supposed to.

________________________

It was close to midnight when the first shouts rang out that suggested Taehyung and I retire to the bedroom.

"You wed her, now bed her!"

Beomgyu shouted, throwing his arms up and bumping into a chair. He'd drunk his fair share of wine, whiskey, Grappa and whatever else he could get his hands on.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was sober. The small inkling of hope I'd
harbored that he'd be too drunk to consummate our marriage evaporated.

Taehyung's answering grin, all predator, all hunger, all wanted, made my heart pound in my chest. Soon most of the men and even many women joined in the chorus.

Taehyung rose from his chair and I did the same, even though I wanted to cling to it with desperate abandon, but I had no choice. A few looks of
understanding and compassion from other women were directed my way,
but they were almost as bad as the jeering.

Moeum rose from her chair but Mother gripped her upper arm,
holding her back. Kim Do-hwan shouted something about a bed sheet, but the sound and colors seemed dimmed to me, as if I was trapped in fog.

Taehyung's grip around my hand as he led me toward the house was the only thing keeping me in motion. My body seemed on autopilot. A large crowd, mainly consisting of men, followed after us, their chant of "Bed her, Bed her!" growing louder as we entered the house and ascended the staircase toward the second floor where the master bedroom was. Fear was an insistent throbbing in my chest.

I tasted copper and realized I'd bitten the inside of my cheek hard. We
finally arrived in front of the dark wooden double doors of the master
bedroom. The men kept clapping Taehyung's back and shoulders.

Nobody touched me. I would have wilted if they had. Taehyung opened the door and I walked in, glad to bring some distance between the leering crowd and myself. The shouting rang in my head and it was all I could do not to clamp my hands over my ears.

"Bed her! Bed her!"

Taehyung slammed the door shut. Now we were alone for our wedding
night.

________________________

Author's Note:

Whew, what a chapter, huh?

The tension between Miso and Taehyung is only just beginning, and you can feel the storm brewing, can't you? From that kiss on the dance floor to the garter scene (intense, right?), every moment screamed of power dynamics and hidden vulnerability.

I know you're probably wondering-what's next? Will Miso find a way to hold her ground? Will Taehyung reveal a side of himself we haven't seen yet? And, of course, will Mo-eum and Yoongi stay close enough to protect her from what's coming?

Stay tuned, because things are about to get even darker, more complicated, and yes, a lot messier. As always, thank you for reading and for joining me on this rollercoaster. Don't forget to drop your thoughts below-what was your favorite moment? What do you think of Taehyung's little "predator grin"?

Until next time, take care and brace yourselves for what's ahead!

-lavendermiso