He continues, “We’re second cousins, which is perfectly legal and acceptable. You’re the eldest daughter of Lorenzo Pontrelli and the one woman who can solidify my position as don of this family.”
My lips part, but no sound emerges. Though the word on the tip of my tongue isNO. No way in hell. I will not be trapped here as hiswife. I’d rather die than marry a mafia man, especially a don. Especially as abusinessarrangement. That’s just insulting.
He stands up, only to sink down on one knee as my horror grows more fierce. Pulling a small black velvet box from his suit pocket, he flips it open, revealing an enormous pink diamond engagement ring.
At any other time, from any other man, that ring would be absolutely perfect.
“Help me hold my new position, and I will give you everything your heart desires. Be my wife, Elena.” His throat bobs with a harsh swallow. “Please.”
That agonizingpleasethrows me for a second. He never says please. That word slithers beneath my defenses and wraps itself around my heart. It makes me question everything I think I know.
Until I realize that he’s simply manipulating me with that one little word.
I stand on shaky knees and throw my napkin on the table. “No. Let me make myself quite clear. I willnevermarry you.” My cheeks grow warm with fury, even as my confusion twists and tangles into knots. Thank God my voice is steady, because I don’t feel an ounce of calm. “You’re everything I hate in a man. The epitome of what I despise about this world. I’d ratherdiethan ever tie myself to you.”
Breathless, I spin on my heel and run back to my bedroom. I can’t believe I just said all of that to him. For the first time in my life, I voiced my true feelings and it felt good.
Amazing.
Freeing.
To hell with the consequences that will surely come of it. I had to draw the line somewhere, and this is it.
CHAPTER 8
Maximo
That didn’t go as planned.At all. I sit in my office, a cognac in my hand, as I replay the scene on the rooftop over again in my head. She despises me, hates me, and would rather die than be my wife.Cazzo.
My chest tightens like it’s in a vice. I’ve loved Elena for years and yet she’d ratherdiethan be mine. That shithurts. She’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted, the only one I’ll ever desire. She has my heart and soul, and her every rejection guts me. I wish she didn’t have this kind of power over me, but she does.
Now I have to decide what to do about it—about us. I should give her what she wants and let her go. But I… I’m not that good of a man. I fucking love her, and I can’t give up on her until she understands and learns to love me too. Will that day ever come? Will she ever have feelings for me other than hatred? Or am I doomed to a life of unrequited love?
Honestly, her feelings toward me are worse than I thought. I hoped she at least likedsomethingabout me, anything at all. But no, she doesn’t. She despises me. My heart squeezes, and I swallow down more cognac.
I can’t admit defeat. Though I will say I’ve fucked up. I never should have sent her those text messages. But she kept pushingand pushing, and I snapped. She’s so damn defiant when she wants to be. Even so, I can’t allow that to happen again.
This is all going wrong. I was supposed to seduce her, make her fall for me so slowly that she believed it was her idea all along. Then I found out that she’s planning to leave and all my thoughtfully laid plans crumbled. Now I have to trap her here, I’m forced to clip her wings.
And that proposal… What a fucking mess.
At least I know how she feels now. I know my starting place, what I have to work with and overcome. I’ll give her tonight to think over my proposal. Tomorrow I’m going to have to press the issue.Nosimply isn’t an answer that I can accept. I’ve pined for her for too long. She has to understand, even if I have to force her to see the truth.
No one will ever love her as much as I do. She’s safe with me, cherished, and I’ll give her everything she wants. All she has to do is give in. To sayyes. To trust me with her future. Our fates are entwined. I don’t understand how she doesn’t see that. But she will. I’ll make sure of it.
My phone pings with a new message. Dragging my palm across my face, I sigh, and pick it up.
Lazaro:
Another truck went missing. Luxury goods. Just vanished en route to the warehouse. I’m telling you it’s those Irish. We need to do something about it.
Fuck. Not this shit again. For the past several months, pretty much since I took over as don, someone’s been messing with my business. First they were intercepting couriers and robbing them, now it’s escalated to shipments of goods going missing. What next? More importantly, who’s behind it?
Maximo:
It’s not the Irish. Pull together some soldiers and go check it out. The truck has to turn up somewhere even if it’s a junk yard.
Lazaro:
