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He stands. The men around him do to, as does my uncle. Anton chuckles and walks around the table towards the mafia kingpin. They shake hands formerly. It’s like they’re setting a real estate deal. I just stare in shock. I know this is reality, but my brain is still racing to catch up.
My heart beats quicker. This is happening too fast. Much faster than I really thought it would. My uncle turns and smiles at me. He crosses the room to where I stand and comes to a stop in front of me.
He smiles cruelly. “You are his now.”
“Uncle…” I whisper hoarsely. My eyes dart across the table to the cold, hard, ruthless king of a mafia empire. Fear grips me.
Anton keeps smiling. “Be a good girl, Katrina,” he growls. “Be dutiful. Do not bring shame on this family or ruin this for us.”
“Uncle...”
“You will please him. You will keep him happy. Remember what I told you,” he hisses. “Remember what happened to his first wife. Don’t make her mistake. Make him happy before he has to ask it of you.”
“Please,” I whisper. “Please, uncle…”
My uncle scowls. “Do not make me slap you in front of your new husband.”
I stare at him. “Husband?!” For some reason, I’ve never made this connection in my head. I’ve assumed this was a… a mistress situation or something. But husband?
Anton frowns. “Did you think I was renting you out?” He chuckles deeply. “You arehisnow, Katrina. His and his alone. And youwillplease him.”
I blink rapidly, holding back angry tears. My heart races “Because of Sasha.”
“Well, Sasha isn’t going to be sucking his dick as an apology, now is he?” my uncle growls. I blush deeply, feeling a little sick. “But yes, for Sasha.”
The favorite, I think. But Anton would never bother denying that. I could say no. I think I could. But what then? I make a scene, and Anton takes me away and beats me like he frequently does?
“Uncle—”
His hand darts out and grabs my wrist. His grip is painfully hard, and I gasp.
“Do not embarrass me, you little bitch,” he growls under his breath.
“Please…”
“Do not.”
“Please, uncle!”
Anton’s other hand winds back. I wince, bracing for the hit. But then a voice booms through the dark room.
“Enough!”
The room goes quiet. Anton freezes. My eyes look past my uncle’s frozen face. It’s Micheal. The man with the icy blue eyes, handsome jaw, and dominating presence. My new husband-to-be.
“Release her,” he snarls viciously.
Anton’s frown fades. He smiles warmly and lowers his hand. “Of course, Don Genovese,” he says good-naturedly. “Sometimes, these girls, they need…”
“Hold your fucking tongue,” Micheal hisses.
The elderly man with the cigar chuckles. He pats Micheal on the shoulder. “Good boy,” he grunts in what sounds like an Italian accent. He starts to walk towards the door. Half of the assembled Scaliamis follow him.
“Signorina,” he nods at me and tips his hat. I say nothing as he and his men filter from the dark room.
“Leave us,” Micheal grows from across the table. Anton smiles at me as his own guards start to leave.
“Do not disappoint me,” he growls quietly. “Do not embarrass me.”
