When I hesitate, Moretti presses his entire palm against my spine, urging me to my doom.
When we reach the altar, the priest smiles warmly, then invites the family to take their seats.
Matteo faces forward, along with his brother.
The priest begins in a calm and practiced voice.The ceremonial words are familiar, but I barely hear them over the buzzing in my head.
Moretti still has his hand on me, not trusting that I won’t run.
Within only a few moments, the officiant turns to Moretti to ask the first question.This may be the shortest ceremony in history.
“Dante Moretti…” The man folds his hands before him.“Repeat after me…”
As he speaks, his voice is steady, certain, like the outcome of this moment was never in doubt.
Then the priest turns to me and clears his throat, not meeting my eyes.“Valentina Russo…” His voice seems to echo around me.“Do you take Dante Moretti to be your lawful husband?To stand beside him as his wife, to honor the vows spoken before God and family, and to join your life with his from this day forward?”
Dear God.No.
Panic ricochets through me.
I can’t do this.Can’t.
How can I marry the man who kidnapped me?Who probably hurt my brother?A man with blood on his hands?
Moretti’s hand presses harder against my back.
To anyone watching, the pressure is invisible.But to me the warning is unmistakable.
Then he leans just enough that his breath brushes the shell of my ear.
“You will do this for the sake of your family.”
What the…?Fear races down my spine.
“One signal from me, and you’ll find out how little choice you have.”
Does he have my brother?Someone else from my family?Is that whose blood is on his hands?
Frantically I look around.No one has moved or reacted.“You can go straight to?—”
“Say I do, princess.”His voice is harsh and unyielding.“Or live with the consequences.”
ChapterEighteen
Valentina
The helicopter is loud enough to rattle my teeth.
The vibration hums up through the seat beneath me and settles somewhere deep in my ribs, a steady mechanical throb that makes it impossible to think in straight lines.
Less than an hour ago, I’d still been Valentina Russo.
But now…
A handful of strangers watched as Dante Moretti forced vows from my mouth and made me his wife.
As soon as the marriage license was signed, he grabbed my wrist, rushed me from the chapel, through a room that had balloons and champagne and a cake with our names on it.
