“Can’t imagine why,” I murmured behind the lip of the glass, sipping the tart, bubbly liquid. Gaven only chuckled at my response, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. I suppose it didn’t matter that I wasn’t twenty-one yet. It wasn’t the first time Gaven had given me a drink, and I doubted it would be the last before I was technically and legally allowed to. I’d hazard a guess that most people in this room had all done far worse than underage drinking.
“Why don’t we sit for a moment? I can’t imagine those heels are very comfortable,” he stated, eyeing the white stilettos I’d been wearing for the last few hours. Not trusting myself to speak, I let him guide me to our designated seats at the head table.
I didn’t want to admit to him or myself that despite the heavy weight I felt solidified during our ceremony, I was slowlybecoming accustomed to the realization that I was now married. I was now attached to another person—a murderer for all intents and purposes—for the rest of my life. For some reason, it didn’t scare me as much as it had weeks ago. In fact, I could picture the future a little more clearly now.
As Gaven pulled out my chair for me, I scanned the room, taking in all of the talking, dancing, and crowd milling about. Everyone seemed to be having fun or was at least occupied, except for two. Jackie and my father stood off to the side of the room, my father’s frown hard as he glared at my sister. Jackie was dressed as pristinely as always. Her dress was formfitting, the back nonexistent with a lot of skin showing. At first, I thought that might have been the reason our father was so upset. She often pushed the limits of how he expected his daughters to dress, and I was sure he was saying something about her attire which was more appropriate for a nightclub than a wedding.
Unfortunately, there was no way to know what they were actually saying, but whatever it was, I could tell my father was not happy about it. That was nothing new, but what was new was the serene expression on her face as she spoke to him. Where he grew redder and redder in the face, hers never changed.
Whatever their problem was, it wasn’t mine right now. I had enough on my plate. I brushed it off.It was my wedding day, so instead of going over to smooth their argument out, I took another sip of my champagne and looked at Gaven. After a moment of examining his features, from the droop of his eyelashes to the chiseled cut of his jaw, his lips twitched and he spoke. “Staring isn’t very polite, you know,” he murmured, still not looking at me.
I shrugged. “You stare at me all the time, so I thought it was only fair to do the same,husband.”
His gaze sliced to me at that last word, and an intensity sparked in the depths of his eyes. “That mouth of yours is goingto get you into trouble.” Heat laced his words, but instead of shrinking back, I merely smiled and took another sip of my champagne.
“Is that so?” I challenged in a soft whisper, earning a deep guttural growl from him as he leaned into me.
We were married now, and maybe I should have still walked on eggshells for fear of what might happen, only I couldn’t stop myself. Before the wedding, I had held on to a non-existent sliver of hope that it wouldn’t happen. That, by some miracle, I’d be cut free from this arrangement. Nonetheless, I wasn’t; I was now tied to him and my family’s life of crime, and somehow, that fear of him had lessened because of the fact that his ring now sat on my finger. This was my life now, and in spite of what Jackie had advised, I couldn’t let it consist of biting my tongue.
“Oh, absolutely,” he whispered, “and I’m going to enjoy every moment of punishing you for it. As will you. However, as much as I would love to fold you over my lap and paint that ass red for everyone to see, now is not the time.”
Fire licked my veins, wetness pooling in my core, but before he could continue, a waiter came by with another set of champagne flutes to replace our empty ones. “Of course, it isn’t,” I replied, forcing my tone to stop shaking. “You wouldn’t want to show Raffaello Price just what you do to his daughter behind closed doors.”
“You’re not just his daughter anymore, Angel,” Gaven replied. “You’remine.”
A shiver skated down my spine at that, but I didn’t dignify his words with a response of my own.
“So,Mrs. Price,” Gaven said, redirecting the conversation, “tell me … what was little Evangeline Price planning to do before being married to a hitman?”
I sighed, taking a large gulp of the fresh alcohol in my hand as I settled back into my chair. “You know what my plans were,”I reminded him. “ I wanted to go to college. I wanted to find a life outside of all of this. I never wanted to be married—certainly not this young.” I looked down at my hand, where the heavy rock that he’d slid onto my ring finger on my left hand rested. What scared me more than his hand, more than him fucking me and locking me up to get me pregnant with his precious fucking heir, was more subtle than all of that. I was afraid that he could see right into my mind, right through me.
“What would you have gone to school for?” he asked.
I blinked, shocked that he would even be curious about such a thing. “Computers,” I blurted out without thinking.
“Computers?” he repeated, his tone lilting with surprise. I could feel his attention on my face, but I didn’t meet it.
I shrugged. “I’m good with numbers—but computers are more interesting. Technology is advancing quickly in the world. To understand that is to understand the progress of our society.”
“You speak of progress and yet were born into a family as traditional as they come.” Gaven’s voice sounded amused by that fact. The contradiction wasn’t lost on me, either.
“Perhaps I’m most interested in progress and technologybecauseI was born into a traditional family,” I suggested, grinding the words out as a newfound fire overtook me.
“How unfortunate.”
I gritted my teeth at those words and finally shifted my gaze to his. “Are you pitying me right now?” I demanded.
He arched one brow as he stared down at me. “Does that upset you?”
“Yes.” There was no use lying. “It pisses me off.”
His lips twitched again. He liked that. Upsetting me. Pissing me off. I frowned. “Why do you antagonize me so?” I asked.
Gaven’s gaze continued to hold mine. “I like seeing you emotional,” he admitted. “Your face grows pinker the angrier you get.” His hand lifted—slow so as not to startle me—and hegently brushed a finger down my jawline. “You have such youth and fire in you. I didn’t realize how much I missed that about myself.”
“I’m sure you’ve started more than a few fires yourself,” I shot back.
He laughed, the sound startling although not at all unpleasant.
