I grip the wheel tighter, his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. He’s right. I am scared. Scared that the woman I’m falling in love with will wake up one day and realize she deserves better than an arranged marriage to someone like me.
“So what do I do?” I ask quietly.
“You trust her. You let her have tonight with her friend. And when you see her in that club, you prove that you meant what you said about respecting who she is.”
I nod slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Okay. We check that she’s safe, have a drink, then we leave her alone unless she needs us.”
“Good plan,” Fed says with approval.
As we pull up outside Inferno, the bass thumping through the walls, I take a deep breath. Fed’s right. This is a test—not of Carmela, but of me. Whether I can be the man worthy of her, or just another controlling bastard trying to cage a wild bird.
I’m about to find out which one I really am.
19
CARMELA
Itake another sip of my drink, the bitter liquid burning my throat as I watch Sophia move her body to the pulsing beat on the dance floor. The flashing lights and pounding music assault my senses. We’ve been here for hours, and the excitement has worn off, replaced by a dull throb in my temples.
A sleazy guy slides up next to me at the bar, his eyes roaming over my body like I’m a piece of meat. “Hey, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?” he slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol.
I glare at him, disgust twisting in my gut. “No thanks,” I snap, turning away from him. But he doesn’t take the hint, his sweaty hand grabbing my arm.
“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he whines, trying to pull me toward him.
Anger flares through me, and I yank my arm out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I’m married.”
The words come naturally now, not strange or forced as they might have weeks ago. Married. To Silvo. And the thought of anyone else touching me makes my skin crawl in a way that has nothing to do with duty and everything to do with desire.
I shake my head slightly. When did that happen? When did I start thinking of myself as truly his?
But I know the answer. It’s been happening gradually—through every heated glance, every vulnerable conversation, every moment when he proves he sees me as more than just a trophy wife.
I down the rest of my drink, setting the glass on the bar with more force than necessary. Maybe coming here was about proving I still could—that I haven’t completely lost myself to being Mrs. De Luca. But now that I’m here, surrounded by groping hands and leering stares, all I want is to be home with Silvo.
The realization should scare me, but it doesn’t. Not anymore.
I scan the crowded club for Sophia, spotting her still lost in the music. I’ll give her five more minutes, and then I’m dragging her out of here and going home to my husband. Where I want to be.
Sophia’s eyes meet mine, and I mouth the word “Restroom.”
I turn to head toward the restroom, pulling out my phone to finally check the messages I’ve been ignoring. Three missed calls from Silvo. Five texts. My stomach twists with guilt—I should have checked in, let him know I was okay.
But before I can read his messages, a large hand grabs my arm and yanks me backward.
I stumble, slamming against the rough brick wall near the club’s back hallway. Panic surges through me as I look up into the leering face of a man I’ve never seen before. His eyes are glassy, and his breath reeks of cheap beer.
“I’ve been watching you all night, beautiful,” he slurs, pressing his body against mine. I try to shove him away, but he’s too strong, pinning me in place with his bulk.
“Get off me!” I shout, my voice drowned out by the pounding music. I struggle against his hold, twisting and clawing at hisarms, but it’s no use. No one can hear my cries for help over the din of the club.
Bile rises in my throat as I feel his hand sliding up my thigh, pushing the hem of my dress higher. His touch makes my skin crawl, and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for this nightmare to end.
Suddenly, a dark figure looms behind my attacker, yanking him off me with brutal force. I gasp, my heart pounding as I recognize Silvo’s enraged face.
His eyes blaze with fury as he slams the man against the wall, his forearm pressed against the drunk’s throat. “You dare touch my wife?” Silvo snarls, his voice deadly.
The man sputters and chokes, his eyes wide with fear. But Silvo shows no mercy, his fist slamming into the man’s face with a sickening crunch. Blood spurts from the man’s nose as he crumples to the ground, whimpering pathetically.
