Oh my God.Could he be a little more self-important?
I am sick to death of self-important men sitting back, puffing out their chests, and thinking they rule the world.Believing they can order their children around, force them into a marriage they don’t want for the sake of legacy and stability when they are the ones responsible for the instability in the first place.It is all such a joke.“Is that so?”I mutter before smearing pink gloss over my lips, glancing his way in the mirror.
“And until very recently, I had your family to thank for that.”There’s the tiniest bit of resentment in his words before he clears his throat and slides his hands into the pockets of his charcoal slacks.“Let’s put that behind us.Let bygones be bygones.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” I remind him with a tight smile before capping the gloss and returning it to my clutch.Grinding my teeth, I force my trembling hands to steady myself before standing.“Anyway, we’ll be missed if we’re gone for much longer.It’s been fun.Guess I’ll see you at the wedding.”
A frown draws his heavy brows together.“Is that it?I come in here, hoping we could?—”
“What?”I ask, standing toe-to-toe with him, pretending not to notice the way his gaze crawls over my face in a way that makes my core flutter.“What were you hoping we would do?Did you want a little preview of the wedding night?Or maybe you were coming in here to tell me you have no say in any of this and you’re being forced into it, like I am.Is that it?”
I’d swear the air is crackling by the time he asks, “What if it is?”
“Then I would say you might as well have been born a girl, since you clearly have about as much control over your life as I do.”Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I add, “I thought you were supposed to be the future boss.”
“I am.”His jaw tightens, his chin lifts, and now I see in front of me the kind of man who could lead a mafia family.Ice cold.Imperious.Why does he have to be so hot on top of it?
Forget hot.Maybe I could afford to think about his square jaw and deep-set, sultry eyes if he didn’t walk in here like he owns the place and me.My shoulders roll back before I ask, “But you still let your papa boss you around and force you into an arranged marriage in the twenty-first century?”
“It’s for the good of our families.”He slides his hands over the front of his jacket, brushing invisible lint off the lapels.Those big hands now bring to mind how easily he could hurt me.How quickly this could all turn on its head.“And like I said, it’s happening whether you like it or not.”
He might as well be made of ice.No wonder I feel so cold inside.
“Is that what your father said to you?”I ask, and the way his brows pull together tells me I hit the bullseye.I would stick around if I felt like hearing the answer, but I don’t, so instead, I leave the room without glancing his way again.
I’ll be seeing more than enough of him before much longer.
3
DANTE
Adaptability is not one of my finer qualities.
Which makes the weeks leading up to the wedding even more torturous than they would be otherwise.
There’s this ringing in my ears that never stops.The volume changes, but the sound is always there if I listen hard enough.There is also a sense of walking through life stoned, not a sensation I particularly enjoy, which is why I haven’t touched drugs in years and rarely have more than a glass of wine or a scotch.Too much of a good thing dulls the senses.
And no amount of caffeine will sharpen them, considering I’m on my third triple-espresso and still feel foggy as I sit in my father’s study, skimming the latest news reports on shootouts in the city and surrounding suburbs.It’s not only the Vitali family or ours involved, but the Alessios, the Scarpettas, and even the lower-level peons we never paid much attention to in the past.
They’re sharks who smelled blood in the water.Like it or not, our war with the Vitalis created enough instability that everyone decided they wanted a piece.Like they can swim around, gobbling up the remains.Right now, they’re fighting among themselves as if they are pawns going head-to-head on a chessboard.
“They’re going to bring this fight to our front door sooner rather than later,” Papa concludes, slamming a newspaper onto his desk after reading another story.
Luca looks my way, his mouth a grim slash across the bottom half of his face.“I don’t like the color you’re turning,” he warns Papa.I guess the memories of Papa’s‘incident’are as fresh for him as they are for me.The two of us carried him up to bed while he was out cold, not knowing whether he was breathing at first, and the relief when he regained consciousness.It’s incredible, the number of thoughts that can race through a person’s mind in a few short minutes—the number of regrets.
I promised myself then and there not to get in the way of the peace, both in the family and outside it.I would do everything I could to ensure Papa never reached that point again.
Which is why you’re going to shut up and get married, Dante.
Rolling my head from side to side to ease the tightness in my neck, I grunt my agreement.“You know everything is going to even out once we make it clear Santoros and Vitalis are a united front.We only need to bide our time until then.”
“And of course, you can have your honeymoon once the dust has settled,” Papa promises.It’s an offhanded sort of promise paired with a wave of his hand before he goes back to his newspapers.As far as he’s concerned, he will single-handedly keep print journalism alive.
When Luca snorts softly, I look his way.“Something funny?”I ask.He should know better than to tap dance on a minefield.
Holding up a hand, he shakes his head but can’t stop smirking.“No, nothing funny here,” he replies.“I was just wondering where the two of you would honeymoon when the time comes.You’re not the frolicking-on-the-beach type of guy.”
“Some of us don’t have the chance to bethatguy.”I honestly don’t care if we ever have one.“This is a farce, anyway, and we all know it.I don’t see why we have to keep up with the charade.”
