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“I was busy,” I state, thinking about the drying canvas still sitting on the easel.
“That’s okay,” Victoria steps up, her voice just high enough to get on my nerves. “I’d love to know what you were doing. I don’t like parties like this either. I always have a headache at the end of the night.”
“Don’t tell him that, Victoria. We don’t want him to think you’re no fun.” Her mother awkwardly fidgets with the pearl necklace around Victoria’s neck to make sure it’s lying perfectly.
“It’s really no issue.” I down half of my champagne, and my father’s jaw sets, his teeth grinding together.
“If you’ll excuse us for one moment. We will be right back.” He grabs my shoulder, squeezing hard as he pushes me through the crowd.
For a man in his seventies, he’s still in great shape. He doesn’t look his age, so he thinks he can still control me.
We get out of sight; I grip his arm and twist it behind his back, throwing him against the wall until he can’t move. “Listen to me, Father,” I sneer the word because I’m tired of these games. “You do not control me. I am in charge. I am the one who makes the decisions now. Not you. You will not force me to do anything, and I sure as fuck don’t want anything to do with that Rossiti girl. You’ll wait until I’m happy, or you’ll get the hell out of my house.” I add more pressure to his arm, and he grunts, giving a slight nod of his chin.
I let him go and take a step back, rolling my shoulders to calm down.
“I didn’t think you had it in you, to be honest,” he says, rubbing his arm. “But you do have to marry, and you don’t have long, so I suggest you make the best of this party.” He tugs on the lapels of his tux but stands in front of me, his hand cupping my jaw with a hard slap. “I’m proud of you for standing your ground, but rules are rules, son. Pick someone to marry tonight, or I’ll call your brother.”
“You must not care about the family name at all if you want the torch to go to him.” Before my father can say another word, I’m walking away, plastering a smile on my face as I survey the room for a potential match.
I feel like I’m a predator, and all the women here are prey. What kind of person hosts a party like this?
“Adrian,” a smooth, elegant voice stops me in my tracks.
“Daphne,” I greet the gorgeous redhead, kissing her on the cheek. “How are you?”
“I should ask the same,” she smirks, her red-painted lips leaving a trace of gloss behind on her flute. “You hate things like this.”
“I do, but it comes with the job. You wouldn’t want to go into an agreement, would you? We marry, you can still do what you want, and I can do what I want.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. Daphne is the perfect woman for this. She isn’t interested in me. She doesn’t want to be tied down. She’s too dominant for that. She is actually a Madame at a local BDSM club. “No harm, no foul, what do you say?”
She purses her lips, and her big, blue eyes with a thick coating of black mascara narrow at me. Her nails clank against the champagne flute as she thinks. “Why? You have all these available women at your disposal, Adrian.”
“I don’t want any of the women here.” Why would I want someone I don’t trust? Daphne isn’t from a prominent family. She’s successful on her own and she’s helped so many by forging illegal documents to get others out of the country, for their safety. She has reach in high places that I don’t understand, but together, we could make an amazing team.
But only a team. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“But there is someone,” she prods, taking a step closer. “Dance with me and tell me all about her.”
I’ve never told a soul about Mable. “Do we have a deal? As my future wife, you can know anything you want.”
She sighs, holding out her hand as she waits for me to take it. “Dance with a lady first, Adrian.”
I smirk, gently taking her hand in mine, then bend down to kiss the top of it. Her skin is soft and flawless, but I know she holds a whip at night. These hands have dirty sins attached to them, and they aren’t as clean as they appear to be. “Yes, Madame,” I tease, and she lifts her brows at me, a smile tugging her lips.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come down to the club? You’d make a great dominant.”
“It’s not my thing, Daphne, you know that.”
“But whips and chains are so fun,” she purrs, her nails tickling the back of my neck as we dance in front of the fireplace.
My father stares at us from beside the fireplace. He leans against the brick, and the flames illuminate his face, worshipping him as if he is the devil himself.
Hell, if he had it his way, he would be.
“So, tell me about this woman. She must be pretty special to capture the attention of Adrian Benedetti.”
“I haven’t seen her in a long time, but she’s always held my attention.” I’m careful not to lie, but I choose to not tell the truth.
That I’m obsessed with a woman I held in my arms for less than ten minutes. I'm unbothered even now, dancing with Daphne, my arm around her waist, and the natural seduction that pours off her in waves.
