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“You will do…” His words trail off in a grumble. “Comewith me.”
“Where are we going?” I ask but follow out of morbidcuriosity.
“To my office, where I’ll provide proof that you and I aremarried.”
“Pff, sure,” I scoff.
Sebastian ushers me into his office, and I nearly gasp at the gorgeous view of the mountains from the floor-to-ceiling windows that take up the entire back wall. Besides the spectacular view, his office is simple with its black two-seater leather couch, coffee table, utilitarian computer desk with a shiny black surface, and matching high-back chair.
My legs take me directly to the glass wall, where I stare off into the distant mountains and imagine getting lost in their depths. “Greta?” I turn at Sebastian’s voice to find him holding out a white embroidered envelope for me to take.
I take a step back as though the simple white envelope is a snake ready to strike. “What is it?”
“Open it,”he orders.
Again, curious, I take the envelope with trembling hands and pull out the thick tri-folded document. My pulse thunders in my ears, and my brow dampens when I read the big, bold words at the top of the document.CERTIFICATO DI MATRIMONIO,and below it are my and Sebastian’s names and signatures.
I swallow around the lump in my throat as I read the date that says we married nearly three months ago. “This… How…” I can’t complete a coherent thought as I look at my signature. A perfect match.
But that’s impossible.
“Do you see now?” Sebastian comes to me and tilts my chin to bring my eyes to his. “You’re my wife. You’re Greta Marius.” I shake my head vehemently, and his hand drops. “What more proof do you need, Greta?” His tone turns edgy, and I can feel his growing aggravation.
“This has to be forged,” I accuse, then startle when he slams the side of his fist into the glass next to my head.
“Enough! I’ve played your game long enough. You’re my wife, and I understand you’re sick, but you will accept what I say.”
My eyes narrow. “What happened to being patient, oh loving husband of mine?” I regret my mocking words the moment they pass my lips.
Sebastian’s blue eyes blaze with fury, and the next second, my back hits the glass wall, and his hand wraps around my throat. My nails claw at his wrists as I struggle to breathe, and my teeth clench together painfully. I lift my knee to strike, but he knocks it out of the way and presses his big body against mine.
“You will watch your tone, wife. Here are your choices: You can live a privileged life, wanting for nothing,” his grip tightens, “or spend your days locked away like a disobedient pet.”
My vision goes fuzzy, and my hands fall limp to my side. I’m seconds away from blacking out when he drops me, and I land hard on the hardwood, gasping and sputtering for oxygen. “What will it be, Greta? Privileged wife or caged pet?”
I study the man in front of me: the maniacal look in his blue eyes, the tick in his jaw, his nostrils flaring with barely controlled rage. I’ve never been more terrified of a person in my life. Emiliano is a brutal don who basks in torturing his enemies, but at least he has lines he won’t cross. With Sebastian, I get the eerie feeling that he’d not only cross those lines but turn and give them the middle finger. Sebastian is a different beast entirely, and one that makes a cold chill scamper across my skin as he watches me from above, waiting for me to submit. This man undoubtedly doesn’t care that I am a woman or his wife. He will hurt, torture, and take from me in the most monstrous ways if I don’t obey.
That’s why, with a jerky nod, I agree to be a good little wife.
Sebastian smiles in triumph and then sits in his office chair. “Good girl. Now crawl to me. Crawl to me like a good obedient wife,” he orders.
And I obey.
4
Present Day
Emiliano
One month. An entire fucking month with no word or clue as to where Greta could be. Lorenzo hacked into airport surveillance cameras, flight manifestos, and anything else we could get into to see if she caught a flight out of the country. So far, nothing. My men scoured the streets of Rome, questioning neighbors and business owners, but none have seenmia perla. Our last sighting of her came from a CC camera across fromBasilica Santa Maria. I watched, heart pounding at the small glimpse as an exhausted Greta slumped against the ancient church doors in defeat, only for the camera to glitch and go offline moments later. That’s when I knew there was more to Greta’s disappearance. My jewel was clever, but she was alone in an unfamiliar country and couldn’t hide her tracks this well without help. Or my worst fear. Shewas taken.
“Nothing new from your father,” Boian reports as he walks intomy office.
“You’re losing your powers of persuasion, my friend,” I throw back and receive the middle finger from my second-in-command.
“The man is missing all his fingers on his right hand, nearly blind in one eye, and if it were not for the doctor we brought in to keep him alive, the burns would have festered and killed him.” He drops his big body to the chair across from my desk. “The old bastard is either tough as nails or doesn’t knowanything.”
“And thefamilies?”
