Then Rafael leans closer and says something too low for me to catch. Whatever it is, it is brief. And when they turn backaround, my father's expression has done something I have never seen it do in fifty eight years of hard living.
It has gone careful.
Which in my father’s world is very close to fear. He returns to the front pew without another word.
Rafael comes to stand beside me.
His jaw is tight. Shoulders locked. He is angry, genuinely angry, and that alone is disorienting because men in this world do not get angry on behalf of the woman. They get angry about the deal, the optics, the inconvenience. Not this.
I don’t even know what to think.
He turns and looks directly at me, green eyes staring deep into my soul. "Do you want me to stop this?”
Yes. God, yes, obviously yes!
Every functioning part of me is screaming yes.
"You're supposed to be my bride." He tilts his head to watch me. "Which means you can tell me what you want right now and no one in this building has a say in that." A glance toward the pew where my father sits. Then back to me. "So answer me honestly, Little Gia. Do you want me to stop this wedding?"
Little— Little?!I bristle.
I glare up at him.
Say yes. Gia, for the love of everything, say yes.
"If I say yes," I bite. "What happens to my sister."
Something flashes across his eyes.
"That's not a yes," he grunts.
"No. It's not."
He steps close enough that I have to tilt my chin up to hold his gaze, close enough that I catch his cologne again before I can stop myself.
God, he smells so good, I want to push my nose into his neck and inhale deep.
"Then understand what you're agreeing to," he says, quiet and even and completely serious. "Not a marriage on paper. Not separate rooms and polite distance. You become mine. Fully." His eyes don't move from mine. "Do you understand what that means for a man like me, Little Gia?"
Oh, if he calls me little one more time, I’m going to jail and my YouTube therapist is getting sued.
"Stop calling me little.” I snap and he just blinks, a small twitch at the side of his lips as if waiting for my answer.
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?" I frown at him.
"I'm making sure you know what you're walking into." A pause. "So, tell me, Little… Gia."
Fucking bastard.
I hold his gaze. I think about Laura sitting back down in that pew. I think about my father's face when he threatened me and the complete absence of any option that doesn't end with her getting hurt.
"I know what I'm walking into," I say.
He looks at me for one more beat.
"Tell the priest," he nods toward the man.
I turn. "We can proceed, Father."
