Trying to placate the situation, I approach them carefully and explain by saying, "We had a long day at the beach. She fell asleep on the couch, and I lost track of time going over paperwork on my computer."
Salvatore's attention snaps to mine, and he narrows his eyes. "If you touched her…"
I hold my hands up defensively. "I would never," I tell him honestly, and I fuckin' mean it. "I want to keep my head," I say with a smirk, attempting to crack a joke, but Salvatore is in no laughing mood.
"Nothing happened, Papa," Adeline says quickly, and I can hear the tremor in her voice. "I swear. I swear on Mama's grave," she whispers, her lower lip trembling as she holds back tears.
Salvatore stares at her face, studying her, perhaps trying to see if she's lying. Then he releases his tight grip on Adeline's hair and pushes her to the floor. She falls on all fours and stays down like the good little doll he raised her to be.
He turns to me and holds up a stubby finger. Salvatore is about as wide as he is tall with a huge paunch he carries around with the swagger of a much taller and thinner man. "No more mistakes, Giovanni. My daughter is not sometoyto be played with," he barks.
I almost laugh out loud considering he treats her exactly as such, keeping her up on a shelf and not allowing anyone to look and touch as if she's a prized vintage toy still in the original wrapping.
Schooling my features, I nod and tell him, "It won't happen again. You have my word."
Sal grabs Adeline by the arm and hauls her up, his grip no doubt leaving bruises. "I'll deal with you when I get home," he threatens in a low murmur. Then he pushes her towards his awaiting bodyguards, who escort her out the door.
Salvatore motions for them to leave, so they do, but he decides to stay. He's not done with me yet. We both know I fucked up, and we both know what must happen because of it.
"Honestly, Sal, she fell asleep and ---."
But I don't get to finish my sentence before he socks me right in the jaw. I remain standing, though, not giving a fuck whether the stocky Italian before me keeps hitting me. I refuse to fall at his feet like a coward.
But the second hit never comes. Instead, Sal curls his fat fist in anger and says, "You only have a few months until the wedding. I suggest you keep your dick in your pants until then. I won't have my daughter being a fucking harlot, not fit to wear white when she walks down the aisle."
"Like I said, Sal…it was innocent."
He eyes me once more before nodding in satisfaction. "Good, good," he says, standing up straighter and fixing his suit, which got rumpled in the process of him showing everyone who's the boss around here…as if anyone could forget. "I'll see you tomorrow before I leave for Cali."
"Sure thing, Sal," I tell him, wiping the blood from my busted lip and giving him a final nod.
I watch the older man leave, and then I lock the door behind him. I'm already second-guessing my decision to sell Adeline to The Big Bad Wolf, but the deal is already done. If all goes according to plan, Salvatore will have no idea what I did, and we'll both be richer after the whole ordeal is over. Adeline will be back in her gilded cage before her father even knew she was missing, and I'll be able to sleep a hell of a lot easier at night knowing I have the funds to keep myself and my boss happy.
Still, the nagging feeling in my gut doesn't leave me as I toss and turn that night in bed. In the stillness of the night with only the sounds of my heartbeat to keep me company, I think I finally come to terms with what I've done to Adeline, the woman who is to be my wife.
I fed her right tothe wolf.
And I just may regret that decision for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 1
LUCIEN
I AWAKE FROM a nightmare, jolting straight up in bed, drenched in sweat. After struggling out of the maze of tangled sheets, I swing my legs over the side of the mattress. Running my hands through my damp hair, I draw in deep, urgent breaths as I try to forget the visceral assault on my senses that just occurred.
It's the smell that stays with me the longest. It's as if the overwhelming stench of cigarettes, booze, chemicals and cat piss somehow seeped into my lungs, drowning me in my sleep.
Memories of my horrible childhood come to me almost every night in the form of petrifying, vivid nightmares. And no matter what I do, peaceful sleep always seems to escape me.
Standing, I make my way to the en-suite bathroom, ready to begin my day even though the clock on the nightstand reads that it's three in the morning. As I walk, my body is coiled with tension, and I just can't seem to shake the nightmare.
My childhood was something you'd likely hear about on the local news station. I could be one of those people that they invite on daytime talk shows to discuss their horrible pasts and how much suffering they endured as a child. Hell, I'd have enough material for a two-part episode, keeping the audience riveted to their seats and crying in pity.
But my past was never discovered by talk show hosts or police officers or case workers, for that matter. I knew from a young age that no one was coming to rescue me or save me from my retched life like in all those godforsaken fairytales I read as a young boy.
No. I had to suffer and endure as best I could until the age of twelve…when everything suddenly changed.
My savior came in the form of my uncle, my mother's brother, whom I had never met before that day. William visited our single-wide trailer in the middle of the blistering hot summer to tell his sister that their father, my grandfather, had passed.
