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His accent is more Italian than Boston, more coolly composed than brutally cold. His voice is mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time, and the sound of it makes my heart race, either out of fear or a foolish sense of excitement, I'm not really sure.
La Stregaseemed so convinced earlier I won't say 'no' to marrying her grandson, and now I think I know why. They say attraction can be fatal...and I don't think it can get any more fatal than this, with Cesare Marchetti striding towards me like a biblical lion looking for something to devour, but instead of running away I find myselfbreathlessandunwillingto move.
I feel like I'm a lamb about to be swallowed whole...or one that's about to be slaughtered by marriage, and the most terrifying thing about all of this is how neither prospect makes me want to run away.
My heart is actually pounding with excitement, and I can barely keep still when he finally slows to a stop before me, and the scent of his aftershave lures me in like a moth to a flame.
Holy...shit.
I'm terribly scared of him still, but I also find his scent terribly appealing. Does this mean I've officially started losing my mind?
"There's no need to look nervous," he murmurs. "I'm not going to harm you."
Says every serial killer, natch.
"You are no use to us dead—-"
If I needed any more proof that he's related toLa Strega,that would be it.
"Or married to someone else," he finishes silkily. "But you're not thinking of marrying another man...are you, Penelope?"
I'm tempted to say 'no' just because he scares the shit out of me, but...
"What about you?" I dare to ask. "Are you really okay with marrying...me?"
"Sì."
His dark gaze glitters down at my person as he says this, and I fight against the urge to run away.
Memories devour my soul, and I'm back in the cage of my past. It's just me and that monster again in the shower, and bile rises to my throat.
I remember feeling ashamed by my nakedness, remember blaming myself for catching the eye of someone bigger, stronger, and meaner. It was that part of my life which taught me what it truly meant to be prey, in a world ruled by animals whose only thought was to harm me.
I look back at Cesare, and even though he's so much bigger and stronger and meaner than the foster father who tried to force himself on me—-
He's different.
Maybe this is just me finally losing my mind after everything's that happened. Or maybe this is just my hormones going on overdrive, since it's my first time to meet a man I find sexually attractive.
I can't explain it. I just know, I just feel the truth all the way to my soul. Cesare Marchetti isnota good man, but he'snotand willneverbe evil the way my foster father was—-
"Ifwe marry," I begin.
"You mean 'when'we marry," he puts in smoothly.
Like grandmother, like grandson,I can't help thinking, with how both of them are acting like our wedding is already a foregone conclusion.
But while that's obviously not the case, I think I should let it go for now...since I still have a more important question to ask, which is—-
"What kind of marriage do you think we'll have?"
"Are you asking me if I plan to fuck you?"
My face turns red. "No!"
"The answer is yes, by the way."
"I don't care," I manage to choke out...even if I'm not quite sure I'm telling the truth.
