This might be the most senseless move I’ve ever made.
Dumber than trusting Vinny.
I’m calling his bluff, and it’ll either result in my murder or him realizing I’m not a goddamn doormat.
With the silence and agility of a lion on the attack, he grips his hand over mine on the knife handle and clenches it so tight that I wait for my hand to break. I gasp, fighting to hold back his move’s effect on me.
I attempt to pull away, but his grip is too firm. His hand is steady as he forces us to drag the edge of the knife along my jawline.
“There are so many ways I can use this on you,” he hisses into my ear with a callous laugh.
I whimper when he lowers the knife and presses the tip into my neck. The pressure is light, but it’s still there.
This man is a literal psychopath.
And my handing him the knife might make me one as well.
CHAPTER 12
CRISTIAN
I will end up killing this pain-in-the-ass woman before we even make it to the altar.
Natalia irritates every single one of my goddamn nerves.
Hell, even nerves I never knew existed.
And that’s saying a lot, coming from a man like me.
I run the knife over Natalia’s throat.
A rupture of pleasure seeps through me when she shudders.
I won’t slit it.
At least, not right here.
Under us is a one-of-a-kind rug imported from Italy. Even the best dry cleaner in the world can’t clean blood from wool.
And because I’m the monster everyone says I am, I nudge the tip of the knife into her skin—it’s gentler than what I’d use with a man who crossed me, but still enough pressure to pierce her skin. She jumps, and a single drop of blood surfaces from the puncture. Her breath is so loud that I wouldn’t be shocked if Gretchen could hear it from the kitchen.
Hell, if Benny could hear it from outside.
With the confidence of the twisted man that I am, I run my thumb along the wound of her neck and play with the blood between my fingers. She exhales when I press the finger into my mouth and groan.
She stares at me, wide-eyed and in disbelief.
I lower the finger from my mouth, bring it to her lips, and then push it into her mouth. There’s no stopping my grin when she bites into my finger, no doubt creating her own puncture in my skin.
I fucking love it.
I draw back and release my hold of the knife, and she tips forward. She grunts when I yank the knife from her and toss it onto the table. It clatters against Benny’s plate.
I misjudged the little pest in front of me.
When she came to me, scared for her life, I saw her as weak.
But sweet Natalia is starting to prove herself.
Her newfound bravery might be a result of her knowing she’ll die soon, so she might as well go down shit talking. But she’s playing with fire and will be the only one burned between us.
I will marry her.
Our little matrimony will bring me closer to getting what I want.
When she keeps that pretty little mouth shut for longer than five seconds, I return to my seat, ignoring the broken dishes. I sit, and Natalia squirms in her chair. She stares at me, unblinking, as if she needs to keep her eyes on me, waiting for my next move.
I clear my throat and level my tone. “Are you done pushing my buttons so we can talk about the wedding?”
She throws her head back and mockingly laughs. “Yes, let’s go from the man who wants to marry me, holding a knife to my throat, to nuptial plans. Sounds very compos mentis.”
“A little knife play never hurt anyone …” I wipe a hand across my mouth and smirk. “At least, not me.”
“You were born in the pits of hell, weren’t you?”
Yes.
I was born into this family, and we’ve been ruthless for decades. Mercilessness runs through our cold veins, and cruelty is ingrained in my twisted genes. From the moment I took my first breath, I was the future of the Marchetti family. My aunt once said that my mother added venom to my formula.
I reach across the table, snatch a handful of muffins from a basket, and throw them onto her plate. “Eat something other than goddamn strawberries. I need a healthy wife.”
“Is a wedding necessary?” She takes a muffin. “Can’t we go to the county building or a drive-through?”
It’s comical that my little nuisance here assumes I want to spend an entire day getting married when I have more important shit to do. But it’s customary to have a large wedding where we spare no expense.
“Not if you want our marriage to be believable. Everyone will already be suspicious with me marrying again, your being Gigi’s friend, and your affiliation with the Lombardis.”
I hold her gaze, showing her my distaste, giving her a moment to realize how repulsive I find her association with them. My mother referred to them as the cockroaches of organized crime. They were untrustworthy fucking idiots and failed to pay debts. It’s improved some since Vincent took over, but they’re still scum. Scums who need to die slow deaths.
“They’ll be suspicious and think it’s weird regardless,” she mutters before popping a bite of muffin into her mouth. “Trust me, marrying you doesn’t sound too alluring.”
“Marrying me prevents your throat from actually being slit by someone else.” I rub my knuckle over my neck at the same spot where I had the knife against hers. “Although, if last night was any indication of my future with you, I’m certainly not complaining.”
She glares at me, her thick black lashes nearly hiding her eyes. “That was a moment of weakness and will not happen again.”
“Fine by me. I don’t beg for pussy.” I cross my arms. “What are your plans today?”
She perks up in her chair at the subject change. “I need to get clothes from my apartment, so I don’t have to wear these ridiculous cocktail dresses—”
“Those dresses cost more than your life.” I pause to correct myself. “Not technically since the Lombardis were willingly to pay a high price for you.”
This time, she flinches at my response but quickly composes herself. “Those are nice for going out but not for everyday wear.”
“Someone will take you to your home.”
“Then, I need to go to work.”
“Do you still plan to work?” I ask dryly with a frown.
Natalia’s job makes her vulnerable. She can easily be taken, blown up, or shot there. If something like that were to happen, it’d take time and be harder for us to point the finger at the Lombardis. If Vinny kills my wife, my family will expect me to avenge her.
“Yeah,” Natalia answers as if I should’ve already known the fucking answer. “My life doesn’t stop just because I have a madman after me.”
“It kind of fucking does.”
“To clarify, bills don’t stop.”
The thought of having someone sit at the gallery and babysit her is a waste of a man, a terrible use of resources. Any of my guys would also be upset if I had them sitting in an art gallery all day instead of handling business. It’d be a goddamn headache to deal with.
“I’ll pay them.” There we go. Problem solved. Headache gone.
She scrunches up her nose. “Hard pass on the sugar daddy offer. I need you to keep me alive, not support me financially.”