I crossed my arms. “What is your problem?’
“My problem is with you and everything your family stands for.” There was no mistaking the rage in his arctic glare. “The only reason I went through with this sham of a wedding was because one day I will take over the family business, and then I’ll have the power to weed people like your father from our world.”
I held up my arms. “I don’t have anything to do with my father’s business, and I couldn’t care less about any of it. I’m here because I had a duty to fulfill.”
His mocking laugh filled the room, the sound gnawing at my spine. “Duty?” he blurted. “What the fuck do you know about duty?”
“Please leave.”
His laughing ceased, the smile vanished from his face, but I forced my courage to the forefront.
“I said leave.”
But instead of turning around and walking out, he moved closer, his jaw clenched and irises hard. “Turn around.”
“What?” My eyes widened.
He stalked forward, his entire demeanor threatening and dominant, like a predator consumed with bloodlust as it regarded its prey. “I said. Turn. The fuck. Around.”
My heart stammered inside my chest, my mouth instantly dry. I could hardly find my voice as fear tightened its grip around my throat. “No.” I breathed out heavily, my legs hardly able to stand under the weight of terror.
He snarled as he lifted his arm, throwing his glass across the room. I gasped when the loud crack of shattered glass splintered to sharp shards just as he reached out and grabbed my waist. With the flick of his wrist, he forced me to turn, and a rush of air escaped my lungs as he pulled me against him, his arm snaked around my middle, securing me in place. “You listen to me, and listen well because I am only going to say this once.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, causing chills to travel down my spine. “This is my fucking house, and if you ever disrespect me again, I will have no choice but to teach you a lesson.” He jerked his hold tighter around my waist. “It’s already a goddamn embarrassment having to call a Moretti girl my wife, so believe me when I say the urge to whip some manners into you is fucking strong.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think as fear froze the blood in my veins, his touch cold and cruel.
“Now, say you understand.”
I closed my eyes, struggling to find my voice when he shoved his fingers through my hair, the bobby pins pressing into my skull as he gripped the strands in his palms. I yelped as he pulled my hair, forcing my neck to the side. “Say you understand,” he demanded with a voice laced with malicious threats.
I managed to take a breath. “I understand.” My whispered words were almost inaudible, but thank God it was good enough for him to let go of my hair, loosening his grip around my waist a little.
I kept my eyes closed, his scent of black pepper and spice filling the air around me while my heart tried to break free from my chest one beat at a time. But it was when I felt him reach for the zipper of my dress at the back of my neck that my insides turned into a vise with barbed wire piercing my flesh. My mind had already raced into the direction of any woman’s worst nightmares. Panic suffocated me, and I whimpered as he brushed his nose against the skin of my neck while easing the zipper down my back. My legs grew weaker, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep myself upright, not while he attempted to undress me, his intentions unclear and threatening.
As he slipped the zipper all the way down, I held my breath and heard him inhale, his nose gently touching the skin below my ear. “There is nothing as vile as the stench of cheap perfume.”
Abruptly, he let go of me, and I rushed to the other side of the room, tripping over my dress which was no longer kept in place. My chin slammed against the hardwood floor, the taste of blood exploding in my mouth. Tears stung the back of my eyes as my dignity collapsed along with me, and I was unable to lift myself. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay there on the ground with the hope the Earth would swallow me whole.
All Gian did was stand there not even attempting to help me up, glaring down at me as if I was nothing but a peasant at a king’s feet. “Clean yourself up, and don’t be late for dinner.”
With that, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving me a mess on the cold floor. For the first time that day—the worst day of my life—I allowed myself to shed more than just a single tear. I sobbed. I crumbled under the weight of my existence, and I indulged in my own weakness by weeping, mourning a happy future that would never be mine.
Chapter Five
“Fuck.” I slammed my bedroom door, the walls reverberating around me. I could still smell her goddamn perfume. It lingered all around me. Maybe the scent clung to my clothes, hence why the fragrance of mandarin, rose, and vanilla refused to abate.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket and ripped the shirt from my body, buttons clattering across the wooden floor. Annoyance pumped through my veins, and I could feel it gnaw at every bone. I knew I’d never have the luxury of choosing a wife of my own. It was a sacrifice men in my position had to make time and time again for their families. It wasn’t something I looked forward to, but I knew it had to be done. But when I learned the name of the wife my father had chosen for me, I questioned every goddamn decision I ever made for our family. For our pride and wellbeing. Daniela Moretti never once crossed my mind as an option. A Silvestro-Moretti alliance was right up there with the world finding out who really killed JFK. Never-fucking-happening. Yet it fucking happened, and now I was stuck with this woman under my roof. It had only been hours, and already she was getting under my skin. That damn kiss we shared in front of all those guests, in front of the priest, and God—it was nothing but a closing act to one motherfucker of a charade. And I made sure I gave them all what they came for—one good fucking show. But imagine my surprise when I placed my lips against hers and actually fucking liked it.
What the fuck was that about?
Warm. Soft. The taste of watermelon lipstick exploding in my mouth when I forced her to open for me. Part of me hoped she’d retreat and slap me in front of the entire church when I lapped my tongue in her mouth. Make a real spectacle of herself and embarrass her family. Her father. But of course, she didn’t. Daniela Moretti had been primed for this day, for the day she had to fulfill her duty, and it seemed like she had the backbone needed to do just that.
I pulled my hand through my hair and let out a breath. She provoked me by disrespecting me in my own house, something you shouldn’t do to a man who has a taste for inflicting pain. All I wanted to do was tear that fucking dress from her body and whip some manners into her. The best part, the part that really fucked with my head? When I snaked my arm around her waist and felt her body tremble against mine out of fear of what I would do. Of what I could do. The part where I liked watching the vein in her neck pulse and race with adrenaline while she dreaded my next move.
My phone rang, and I glanced at it vibrating on the bedside table. Barrucio Silvestro. I wasn’t ready to talk to my father. Not yet.
I pulled on a clean pair of trousers and shirt, clothing that didn’t carry her stench, slipped my phone in my pants pocket, and headed down to the dining room. There were a million things I’d rather do than have dinner with my wife, but if we were going to sell this fake marriage to the world, we both had our roles to play, and to do that we had to at least attempt to communicate.