She gasps. “Aweek?”
“Yes.” My brow furrows. “Didn’t your father tell you our honeymoon would last a week?”
“No. I thought it would be a couple of days, just long enough to… finalize our union.”
Realizing what she means, I bark a laugh. “Finalize our union? I think you mean consummate our marriage. Or better yet,fuck.”
She cringes at my crude language. I don’t think she’s faking her reaction, she really is a naïve virgin. At least Lorenzo told the truth about that. He made sure I never forgot that I was getting a virgin out of this deal. A pure wife. One to do with whatever I wanted. If anything, he seemed envious, which always left me unsettled.
“Since you’re being difficult, I’ll just choose whichever colors I like,” I tell Elena. “You’re mine to dress now anyway. You’ll wear what I give you.”
She murmurs a word under her breath, but I hear it. “Stronzo.”
I level a glare on her. “Yes, I am an asshole. Do yourself a favor and remember that. We’re not friends, we’re not even friendly. Your father and his men murdered countless people of mine. You’re nothing more than my enemy’s daughter, and a means to end this bloodshed. I’m not even sorry that I killed your brother.”
She cringes.
I revel in her reaction. “It was his death that finally made Lorenzo come to the table and negotiate a peace. You and I had to sacrifice ourselves for that peace, but I don’t ever expect us to like each other. Hate me all you want, I don’t give a damn. But you willnotbe disrespectful. Are we clear?”
She glares at me, cold fire burning in her stormy eyes. “Crystal clear.”
“Good.”
The flight attendant delivers our drinks and I settle into my seat, swiping through my phone and ordering my wife the clothing I want her to wear. It takes me the rest of the flight to finalize the transactions and have it all arranged to be deliveredtomorrow morning. I may have gone overboard with buying not only clothes and shoes, but perfume, cosmetics, and jewelry. Even some lingerie.
A sick kind of satisfaction courses through me at having this level of control over such an irritating woman. She is my enemy’s daughter, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of making her do exactly what I want, all the way down to wearing the black silk panties I chose. Everything on her body will be there because it’s what I command.
I crave her hatred, so I may as well give her every reason to hate me. That’s the only way this marriage will work. I wouldn’t want to confuse her, to have her think that I might be capable of developing feelings for her—because I never will. I’ll never like her, much less love her, no matter how many years we are stuck together. This is a lifetime of hell for the both of us. So why hold back?
‘Till death do us part.
CHAPTER 3
Ravenna
Ifeel ridiculous walking around in a wedding dress all afternoon. But as that Celtic bastard pointed out, I don’t have anything else to wear. Elena’s honeymoon bag is with her…wherever she may be.
All I have is my purse, the only thing that’s mine, since even this dress belongs to my twin. My thoughts latch on to the incriminating evidence in my handbag—my ID. Elena and I need to swap our ID cards if this is going to work. Until then, I suppose I can claim that I lost mine. Another lie. They’re piling up so quickly, I’m drowning in them.
The situation hits me solidly in my stomach. Dear God, what have I done?
And where the hell is Elena? I can’t believe she did this to us—to me. Or should I start calling herRavennasince we’re swapping identities? I’m so confused—and tired. Adrenaline has been pumping through my veins all day, another spike hits whenever this Irishman speaks to me, or accidentally brushes his fingers over mine, or looks in my direction. I’ve had barely a moment out of his suffocating presence.
He’s such an asshole. My fight, flight, or freeze response has been on high alert for hours now. I know our families areenemies, so I don’t know why I was taken by surprise when he confessed his hatred for me.Me.What did I ever do to him besides be born into the Pontrelli family? But men like him enjoy holding grudges for as long as they can. I’m in for an eternity of hell. Who knows what evil things he’ll do to me now that I’m his property.
My heart slams against my ribcage when the big brute opens the door to our private bungalow and flips on the lights. It’s a honeymoon suite. No privacy except for the bathroom. The bed practically sits in the middle of the floor, covered in rose petals and chocolates, arranged in the shape of a heart.
The romantic scene before me is in stark contrast to the hostile energy sparking between me and my asshole husband. It mocks us. Tentatively, I take a step forward.
I can’t believe I’m married. This wasn’t supposed to happen, at least not like this. Can I still get an annulment if I chicken out tonight?
Yeah, and jump right back into war, only worse this time because any trust that’s been freshly forged between the Italians and Irish will be completely shattered. Irreparable. Forever.
No, I’m stuck in this mess. This is my life now. And I have no one to blame but myself.
The Irishman shuts the door behind me, and I jump at theclick. The sound is too loud in this quiet space. In the distance, a gull shrieks and the ocean waveswhooshalong the beach. This should be paradise, not purgatory.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, arms crossed, as he leans against the door frame.
