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“Quinta Rosa do Vale already belongs to me. As do you.”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m certain he can see it through my jacket.I need a plan.A foolproof one. And I need it now.
I dig into my tote for some balm and glide it over my lips as he watches quietly. Chapped lips are the least of my worries, but it buys me a little time.
Maybe,maybe, he owns the property—I’ll need to see proof—but this is the twenty-first century, and human beings cannot be owned like pets.Not even in Porto.
I can’t come up with a viable plan.Nothing.All I can do is draw this out, hoping that something will come to me—before it’s too late.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His eyes blaze as he speaks.The victor with the spoils in reach.“Your father bequeathed me the property on the condition I marry you. It’s time for me to make good on my end of the deal.”
Every inch of me is numb. Inside and out. It’s almost as though he’s speaking in tongues, using words and phrases no mortal can comprehend.
I’m a pawn in a deal.Chattel for barter.
My father arranged my marriage—to a Huntsman. The very people responsible for my mother’s torture and death.Papailoved her with every piece of his heart. Every single one. And he loved me. I’m sure of it.
I glance up at Antonio. His eyes are soft, and I see what looks like pity in his expression. But no regret. There’s nothing that even resembles regret or remorse, and he’s certainly not seeking forgiveness. Men like him never seek forgiveness. Not even with their last breath.
If I want to be free of him, I need to appeal not to his heart or conscience, but to his practical sense. Because in the end he’ll do what’s best for him.
“You don’t want to marry me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts slyly. “Not any more than you want to marry me. Maybe less.”
Could he be more of an asshole?
“Here’s the truth, Daniela. Even if frivolous emotions were part of my nature, I would never marry for love. When I take a wife, it will be strictly a business decision. You were offered to me with a priceless piece of property.” He shrugs. “Why not you?”
I swallow hard, my insides quivering.
His tone is emotionally bankrupt. Devoid of all passion—let alone anything approximating love. It’s chilling. Even if he wanted me just for sex, it would feel more humane. This is a cold, calculated business decision.One I had no voice in.
I don’t know what my father was thinking.
Papaiknew my pain. He never invited Antonio to our home while I was there—not until he was dying, and then only that one time. My father knew the risks involved with marrying into the Huntsman family—especially when he was gone and couldn’t protect us. I can’t believe that, in the end, he chose this for me. That he would take this kind of risk. I don’t believe it.
“My father would never arrange a marriage between your family and mine.”
The words come from my mouth, but I almost don’t recognize myself speaking. It’s as though I’m standing outside my body, watching the events of my life unfold.Disassociating.I’ve never had therapy, but I’ve learned a lot about trauma. The last time I experienced something like this, I was twelve.Maybe I haven’t toughened up.
“We’re going to have serious problems,” he warns, “if you don’t start trusting my word.”
“We already have serious problems.” My voice is flat and hollow, reflecting the defeat I feel inside.
Antonio raps his knuckles on the polished desk. “The circumstances are unique, and I imagine this news comes as a shock.”
A shock?A shock is when wet fingers touch a live wire. This is ripping my beating heart from my chest and stomping on it.
“I’ll humor you, today,” he adds, like he’s doing me a big favor. “But this will be the last time I provide evidence to back up my word. And it will be the last time you accuse me of being a liar.”
He hands me a laminated sheet of paper from the desk. “That should address your concerns.”
I stare at the page. At first, the individual letters are all I see. The black lines and swirls blending into one another. Eventually I begin to make out words.
It’s a simple contract. One sheet of paper, front and back, signed by Huntsman and my father. My heart clenches atPapai’s familiar scrawl.
