I’m at the top of my mixology class, and it’s freaking fascinating. A lot of chemistry is involved with alcohol. Making it, mixing it. You name it.
It’s more than just shaking up some margarita mix with tequila and pouring it into a salt-rimmed glass over ice.
Not that my father will ever know about any of that. He had strict guidelines about where and what I should study. Thankfully, his accountant pays the college directly, so the asshole in front of me is none the wiser.
He might just pick up that handgun and press it to my temple if he got even a whiff of what I’ve been studying.
And given I’m only allowed to leave the house without a guard for class, I plan to keep it that way.Not that he gives a shit about me anyway.
“Excellent morning,” he agrees, watching me with hard, dark eyes. I don’t remember a time in my life when my father looked at me with kindness. “You’ll need to change into something more appropriate. Slacks at the very least. A dress is better.”
I do my best to keep my face neutral. My fatherhatesemotions. “Are we going somewhere?”
My mom died when I was young. When I turned sixteen, it became my job to be my dad’splus-oneto every social event you can think of. And because my father ranks so high in the Italian Mafia, there are a lot of events to attend. I hate them. I’m not friends with anyone, I don’t have anything in common with any other women there, and I absolutely despise small talk. I’d rather be the one behind the bar, mixing drinks.
But since I’ve been in college, my father hasn’t expected me to be on his arm quite as often, and I’ve welcomed the reprieve. It’s why he’ll think that I’m getting an MBA for the next two years.
I hate being a socialite.
“Youare going somewhere,” he replies calmly and cuts a piece of bacon with his knife and fork—who eats like that?—and puts it in his mouth. “I’ve agreed to an arrangement.”
My potato-loaded fork stops halfway to my mouth.
No.
With my blood running cold, I shake my head, but he keeps talking.
“This partnership will benefit the family. Adam Damien will be a decent husband, and you’ll give him babies so we both have an heir. It’s mutually beneficial.”
I would rather die.
I have no idea who Adam Damien is.
And I don’t want to.
I’m still shaking my head.
“You knew this was inevitable, Eloise.” He leans back, obviously bored with me, convinced he’ll get his way. “This is our world. You’re twenty-three. Most girls have been married off by the time they’re your age.”
“But I just—my education.”
“I don’t think they’ll miss you in your bartending school.”
My eyes fly up to his, and he smirks.
“Did you think I didn’t know about all of that nonsense? That I don’t have you followed to make sure you’re safe? Come on, you know better than that,cara mia.”
My shoulders roll forward as fear wraps its talons around my neck.Christ, he knew?
“I let you have yourbalordoclasses, but it’s time for that to end and for you to do your duty to this family. Damien and his men will be here in less than an hour, and you’ll go with them. Move in with him so you canget to know each other better before the wedding next month.”
Bile rises in the back of my throat. “Can’t I just get to know him by going on regular dates?”
Dad shakes his head. “He wants you under his roof to keep an eye on you. I don’t have a problem with that.”
I blink at him. “So you sold me.”
I never speak out against my father like this, but holy shit, he sold me!
