I didn’t spot the host until I was halfway down the long red carpet that lined the center of the room. Nobody paid me any attention and snagging a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, I took a moment to admire the dark prince who’d ordained himself my better half. He stood at the far end of the room, facing me, although he hadn’t seen me yet. Unlike the other men in the room, it was easy to see why Mr. Salvatore would draw anyone’s interest without effort. From the seamless fit of his dark gray suit and black button-down to hair perfectly styled yet casually complemented by a few fallen locks across his brow, to the look of utter boredom with the men vying for his attention, the man was in a class of his own.
Everything about him screamed power and raw seduction. If I wasn’t being sold into a marriage for which I hadn’t been given a reason yet, I would’ve found the man undeniable eye candy that I might be keen on. In another lifetime perhaps.
“What the hell are you doing?” My father’s abrupt appearance hid me from Mr. Salvatore’s view. “Jesus Christ, girl, do you have any idea who you’re disobeying?”
I glowered at him. “What’s wrong, daddy dearest? Afraid you might need to return those precious millions?” I downed the glass of champagne, the cold slide of the liquid the perfect combination of sweet and acidic. “Jesus, this is probably some expensive shit.” I held the glass up. “What are we celebrating? My demise?”
He dragged a hand through his hair then shook his head with an impatient sigh. “Don’t you get it, Gianna? Even if I return that money, there’s no guarantee Mr. Salvatore will call off this wedding.”
My brow creased, I tilted my head. “Why is that? You did sell me, didn’t you?”
His eyes roamed over my face and I kicked myself for even blinking at the idea that he looked genuinely sorry. “When Mr. Salvatore sets his mind on something, the chances of swaying him is a million to one.”
“Then I guess you have fifty chances to try, don’t you?” I choked out a laugh.
“If only it were that simple.”
“What does that mean?”
“Please, Gianna, just go get yourself changed and return before he sees you.” He grasped my arm and gently nudged me in the direction of the door.
Exhaling on an exasperated groan, I glanced up and froze. Being shielded by my father, I had no idea how Mr. Salvatore ended up on the other side of the room. Now, he stood between me and the door like the brazen lord of hell. Large, tall and so freaking diabolical in both body language and expression. His black hair shone under the recessed light above him, creating a halo in mock contrast. Yet together with that chiseled jaw kissed by a five o’clock shadow, it gave him an enigmatic appearance, a dark mystery that would no doubt devour my soul and not be sated. I swallowed to rid the arid taste in my suddenly dry mouth. His brand of evil hidden beneath a beautiful face, one wouldn’t suspect of anything remotely terrifying. I knew better.
Determined to show him I wasn’t intimidated, I squared my shoulders and tilted my chin, pouring as much defiance into the act as I could muster. My gaze locked with his and fire burned torrent flames in those translucent grays before the hardening of his jaw signaled what was coming. His steps the slow prowl of a panther, he neared me, and it took physical effort to stay my ground. I was sure every vein in my body was ready to pop from holding myself so rigid. The longer he stared at me, the harder it became to keep my composure from weakening.
He stopped only when the tips of his expensive shoes kissed the tips of my white flats. “What the fuck did I tell you about disobeying me?” he snarled. I flinched, trying my best to keep from crying out or worse retorting with a cheeky comeback. Then he leaned in, so close, I could almost taste the spicy scent of his bourbon. “I asked you a fucking question,bella?” his voice rose a fraction and a quick sideward glance told me he’d attracted the attention of his guests, who’d gone quiet. Even the music disappeared.
Run, Gianna, just run,I urged myself, but for all the fierce bravado I displayed a moment ago, I was suddenly too afraid to move—trapped like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. “I didn’t feel like wearing that dress,” the words rushed out when I found the courage to speak, regretting the reply the second it left my lips.
The darkness filling those eyes reminded me of the thunderstorms I used to hate until Zayne—only he wasn’t here to save me, to remind me that my fear was a figment of my imagination. Yet, looking at this man, I had to acknowledge that imagination could translate into reality.
Next to me, my father cursed under his breath then took a step forward. “Let me get her changed, Mr. Sal—”
“Everyone out!” Mr. Salvatore barked. His gaze, a thunderous hurricane, trapping mine.
I could see people leaving in my peripheral vision and I suddenly didn’t want to be left alone with him. Stupidly, I broke eye contact to search for my father, but he left the room without so much as a backward glance. Why had I not listened to him? I tried to pretend I wasn’t afraid, biting my bottom lip until I tasted blood.
The slam of the door closing hit my chest like an overzealous gong that wouldn’t stop pounding until I realized it was my heartbeat that was going wild. Who was I kidding? I was freaking the shit out. Mr. Salvatore moved to stand at the head of one of the two long dining tables. Silently, I watched as he removed his suit jacket and tossed it over a chair. Then with precise folds, he rolled up the sleeves of his black button-down, exposing the corded veins snaking under the tattooed skin on his forearms. The tension in the room palpable in the way my breathing turned uneven.
“Come here,bella.” The deceptive quietness to his tone even more chilling than the bark a moment ago. “Stop biting your lip,” he demanded, and I let go of the soft flesh. My steps hesitant, I approached him, keeping my gaze trained on those gray irises that seemed to be aware of my every move. “Strip.”
My stomach churned and my lungs forgot to exhale on the last breath. “W-what?” I wasn’t sure what I expected him to do to me but that definitely wasn’t it.
“What did I say about repeating myself?” His soft tone a dire conflict to his darkened eyes.
The room began to spin as ideas of his intention popped into my head. Even if a part of me thought I could handle anything he threw at me, I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for sex. Not with him or anyone for that matter. Regardless of what he’d done, the other part of me still believed my heart belonged to Zayne.
“The longer you take, the longer the punishment,” he warned.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I bit my lip again, hoping the pain with blank out the humiliation. Dropping my gaze, I reached for the first button on my dress, my hands shaking so badly, I fumbled.
“Eyes on me, girl.”
Fear stifled the words on my tongue, and I lifted my eyes to meet his but only for a moment. I froze. My attention faltering from those silver orbs, dropping to his strong hands. Rigid knuckles with symbols I didn’t recognize tattooed on each finger, flexed as they wrapped around his belt slipping out of the last loop.
I gasped. More from imagining what he intended doing with it than the chill air hitting my naked body as my dress slipped to the floor. “What are you—”
“Those too,” he cut me off, gesturing to my underwear. I did as he asked and immediately crossed my hands over my chest, folding one thigh over the other to hide my exposed mound. “Drop your hands and stand up straight,” he ordered. I did. His eyes followed the contours of my body and I tried not to squirm, hating that he was taking his time. “Bring me your panty.” Picking it up from the floor, I handed it to him. “Turn around.”
