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“I want an agreement between us. I want just this one thing.”
His jaw tightens.
“My brother. Put me down as his legal guardian. You can do whatever you want to me and I’ll do what you say, but you leave him alone. No contact. No nothing.”
“Will that make you happy?”
“I don’t think you care about my happiness. You don’t have to pretend you do. I see you for what you are now, and I won’t forget again.”
He shifts his gaze away and for one moment, I see something that doesn’t fit. Doesn’t belong. A flicker of something almost painful.
When he returns his gaze to mine, it’s gone. “You used to see a different me.”
“I was wrong.” It hurts to say the words.
It takes him a moment, but he stands, holds out his hand. “Come.”
“Do you agree?”
“You know I can’t do that. Now don’t make this harder than it has to be. My intention is not to take him from you. The opposite. It was always to give him to you. Think of it as a wedding gift.”
“A wedding gift?” I can’t believe him.
Before I can say more, he takes hold of my arm and lifts me to my feet.
“Our guests are waiting.”
16
Stefan
The wedding ceremony, as fraudulent as it feels, is legally binding.
The small room is pretty enough, with high ceilings and large windows. Blue drapes with little yellow flowers on them match the carpet and the upholstery of the chairs situated to face the large antique table at the front.
It’s all old and a little dusty but it will serve its purpose.
Gabriela doesn’t walk down the aisle toward me. I walk her, her arm tucked into mine, the small bouquet of flowers something someone must have handed her on her way in because I’ve never seen them before. She holds them absently, her eyes locked on the front of the room.
It’s like she’s not here.
Like she’s blocking this out.
At least she’s not crying. Not fighting. She won’t, though. There’s too much at stake.
If she doesn’t do this, she will lose her brother.
If she does, she’ll gain guardianship of him. Well, I will, technically but I don’t have any interest in Gabe Marchese apart from using him to screw his father especially when he thought he’d screw me in the process.
He cut Gabriela out of the will entirely. Reverted to the old family rule of inheritance to the first-born. She doesn’t know this yet. If she did, she’d only accuse me of taking guardianship of her brother for the inheritance, and she’d be right. But that’s not solely my reason. I meant it when I said I didn’t want her to be sad.
Did Marchese think I’d give her back when he changed the will? That I’d call it quits and tuck tail? No. He’s too clever to believe that.
But when it comes to Gabriela, Gabriel Marchese is odd. He lets his emotions get in the way of his thinking. No, not emotions, exactly. How he is with her is strange, to say the least. It’s more possession than fatherly love that rules him.
And I don’t think that possession has anything to do with me.
The memory of how he looked at her at our engagement party returns and I find myself tugging her a little closer.
She turns to look at me.
Sad little thing.
Collateral damage. Remember Antonio. Remember your father. Remember why you’re doing this.
We reach the front of the room and stand before the mayor who will be the officiant of this sham marriage. Rafa stands at my side and Millie at hers. The only other guests are a handful of soldiers and the mayor’s family.
Gabriela doesn’t deserve what she’s getting. I know it. I’ve known it from day one. But she is choosing how this goes. I mean it when I say I don’t want to be her enemy, but she makes it impossible.
Collateral damage.
The mayor signals for the few witnesses to sit down and he begins the ceremony. Gabriela answers for her part with little nudging from me and I wonder if anyone’s noticed she understands the Italian just fine, only she answers in English.
When the time comes for the rings, Rafa takes two out of his pocket and hands them to me.
I take Gabriela’s hand and repeat the mayor’s words as I slide the ring—a wide platinum band that matches her engagement ring—onto her already crowded finger.
She looks down at it as I do it. Down at our two hands. Mine big, hers so small, so delicate, it disappears inside my palm.
I can crush her. It wouldn’t take much.
When it’s her turn to place the ring on my finger, she meekly takes the ring I offer her, a matching band of platinum, and repeats the mayor’s words, pledging her obedience to me, as she slides it onto my finger.
She doesn’t look at me once.
