“I’m not sure marrying you myselfwouldsave you,” I murmured. “I’ve got plans for the next several years, and they don’t include a wife. Once I rebuild my father’s empire, then I’ll settle down and find a nice woman who can give me a son.”
Scoffing, she pushed back from the railing and shook her head. “Men. All of you are pigs who see women as breeding mares.” Straightening her spine, she stared at me with hatred in her eyes. “Fuck. You.” The words exited through clenched teeth before she pivoted and stormed away.
Releasing a heavy breath, I ran my hand through my hair, wishing I hadn’t upset her. I was a man with plans—was that such a crime? Plans that didn’t include a dark-haired, feisty goddess who set my body on fire and inspired a protective streak I’d never felt before.
I lingered for several more minutes on the dock, wondering how I could save her...
Eventually resigning myself to the fact it might be impossible.
Anger welled deep in my chest at the unfairness of her situation, and I returned to the party, already understanding that my gorgeous Bianca had somehow burrowed deep under my skin...
But I didn’t have the foresight to comprehend how deeply she would become embedded in my soul...
Chapter 2
Bianca
The wedding reception was incredibly boring, much like all the events my father had forced me to attend since I turned eighteen. Much to his dismay, my mother hadn’t given him a son, so I’d become the family’s only bargaining chip. When Mom passed away several years ago, I’d understood there was no one left to protect me; no one left to prevent my father from promising me in marriage to help his business.
I thought he might marry me to one of the capos in his organization, but he’d suffered too many recent disasters for that to be an option. To smooth the situation over with the Rossis and the other families, my father had offered me to Victor.
“Would you like to dance, my dear?” a deep voice asked as I stood in the corner by the bar, observing the dance floor.
Victor Rossi stood beside me, his white hair slicked back above his dark eyes and expressionless face. He carried an air of importance, but also one of cruelty, and my eyes stung with the knowledge that I would have to give my virginity to this man in a week.
“Sure,” I said softly, placing my hand in his and allowing him to lead me to the dance floor. Sinatra sang Fly Me to the Moon as Victor slid his arm around my waist and clutched my other hand.
“You look stunning tonight, Bianca,” he said, his voice filled with a roughness that made me shiver. “Surely I’m the envy of every man in the room.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a weak smile. “That’s very kind of you, Victor.”
I swayed in his arms, noting how my body revolted at his touch; so different than how I’d felt just moments ago on the dock.
When Michael Caruso approached, I was pissed at the invasion of privacy. But as we spoke, my body had slowly transformed into one I didn’t recognize. Blood had pulsed through every vein in my body as his deep voice spoke words that would likely get him killed if anyone heard them. My heart had slammed in my chest as he’d spoke of saving me, his features so handsome under the stars and full moon.
I’d remained antagonistic, mostly because his musings were futile. He couldn’t save me, and we both knew it. No one could. I was destined to live a life without choice; without freedom. And if I dissented, I would be killed.
Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to dream for one moment. Visions of me going to college, laughing with girlfriends, and then meeting a man who fell madly in love with me who I could build a family with. Feeling my eyebrows draw together, I realized the image of my future husband was no other than Michael Caruso. How strange. I’d only met him for moments, but the impact had been profound.
“If you don’t open your eyes, you might lose your balance,” Victor said dryly, still swaying with me as I escaped into my vision.
“Sorry,” I said, lifting my lids to look upon his weathered face. Thankfully, the song ended and I cleared my throat. “I’m parched. I’m going to head back to my table and sit for a while. Thanks for the dance.”
“There will be much more than a dance next Saturday,” Victor said, his lips curving in a lecherous way that made bile rise in my throat. “I look forward to it, dear.”
Nodding, I turned and rushed to my table, sliding into the seat and chugging a nearby glass of water. Needing fresh air, I decided to head back outside, unable to stay in the stuffy ballroom any longer.
Since I hadn’t had luck with privacy on the dock, I headed down to the beach and removed my heels. Setting them on a nearby rock, I walked through the sand until I was underneath the dock. Cold water rushed over my toes, and I wiggled them, observing my purple toenail polish beneath my knee-length dress.
“At least your pedicure looks good, Bianca,” I muttered. “Way to find the positives.”
“You talk to yourself too,” a deep voice said behind me, and I gasped before whirling around and placing my hand over my heart.
“Jesus!” I hissed, gaping at Michael Caruso as he stepped toward me, his bare feet covered in sand. “You scared me to death!”
He stopped a few feet away, eyeing me as his hands rested in his pockets. “Sorry. I saw you beeline from the ballroom and wanted to check on you.”
“Look,” I said, lifting my hand and showing my palm. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but it’s futile. I belong to someone else, and if he sees you speaking to me, he’s not going to be happy.”
