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I enter the kitchen and find Ella dressed in a stunning summer dress. Her long black hair is curled into loose waves, and she has a minimal amount of makeup applied that enhances the dewy glow of her naturally dark skin. I’ve never seen her dressed up and wearing makeup. She’s beautiful. She catches me staring and blushes. “Thought I’d make the effort seeing as my brother is forcing me to come to this stupid party.”
“Well, you look really nice, Ella,” I say sincerely, and she smiles. “And if at any point you feel overwhelmed, just let me know and we’ll go out together and get air.” She nods in appreciation. I don’t know Ella’s exact circumstances, but from what the guys have said back at the club, she suffered at the hands of her father.
The air changes when Anton steps into the room. He goes to Ella and kisses her on each cheek. “I apologise for earlier,” he says quietly to her. “Thank you for coming this evening. I know how hard this will be for you.”
She smiles at him. “I’m sorry too. It’s because I care.” Anton kisses her again, this time on her head, and shrugs into his suit jacket. “Michael is waiting out front. Let’s go.” He passes me without even a sideways glance, and I can’t deny that it hurts my heart a little.
Ella reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay,” she whispers.
Michael drives us to another large villa. The front of the building is illuminated with spotlights, giving it an inviting glow. We follow Anton and Michael up the steps, and when the door opens, a butler greets us, bowing his head as we enter. He leads us through the house, which is just as grand as the place we’re staying in. We’re taken out back, where the large garden space is buzzing with life. Anton takes my hand firmly. He must sense that I’m reluctant, so he squeezes tighter, preventing me from pulling away. He leads me through the throngs of people, stopping several times for guests to kiss his hand like he’s God. It’s a strange sight to behold.
We get to a patio area with some unoccupied seats. Anton pulls one out for me, and I sit carefully. The dress is pretty short, and I’m beginning to think my plan has backfired as I tug the hem down as much as I can. When Anton sits next to me, he runs his index finger along my exposed thigh. “You wore the dress,” he whispers, leaning in close. I stare ahead blankly. “Wise choice,” he adds, smirking.
“Just the dress,” I quip, pissed at his ability to annoy me with just a smirk.
He gives me a quizzical look and then it dawns on him what I’m saying. His eyes dart to the various parts of me that would normally be covered with underwear. The dress is double layered, and I checked nothing could be seen through the material, but I see him assessing to make sure. Now, I smirk and tug at the top of the dress that already hangs low across my breasts, exposing a little more.
“Do you know how important this evening is?” he growls. “And you think it’s acceptable to come here and behave like a whore?”
I bite the inside of my lower lip to stop me from reacting to his insult. “You said I should wear nothing but the dress. I was following your orders, master, as you requested.” I bat my eyelashes innocently, and he looks fit to burst.
“So, you thought you’d get back at me by playing your little game because I was specific in what you wear?”
“I don’t like being told what to wear.”
“You’re playing a part. Tonight’s about my capo, Luke, who died. This is a celebration of his life. His mother specifically requested that the women wear light colours and the men wear suits.”
I glance around at the guests and briefly close my eyes. A lump forms in my throat, and suddenly, I feel like there’s not enough air. I’m saved as an elder woman approaches us, taking Anton’s attention away from me. He stands and leans over the table to kiss her cheeks. He reaches to my hand while the woman is hugging him and pulls me to stand. He speaks Italian, but I know he is introducing me because I hear my name.
The woman kisses my cheeks and speaks to me in Italian. “She says you’re very beautiful,” Anton interprets, his expression blank. “But, of course, she doesn’t know you’re pantiless at her son’s celebration of life,” he adds, cocking his eyebrow. My cheeks flush, and I pray that she doesn’t understand any English.
The woman grasps both my hands in hers and begins chatting animatedly. “She says she gets good feelings about you. She knows you’ll be in my life forever,” says Anton. I scoff, and he scowls at me. “She says there will be times that you are angry with me, but you are a good thing in my life and you have to stick with me through the rough times. The good times will be worth it.”
I narrow my eyes in his direction. “You’re making this up,” I mutter.
Anton laughs. “I swear, I’m not. Maria can see into the future.”
Maria guides my face back to look at her. I feel like I’m under real scrutiny as her eyes pierce mine. I’ve never believed in this sort of thing, but she stares so intently that it’s hard not to. She begins talking, but this time, she’s looking at Anton as she speaks. He bows his head as she talks to him. “What’s she saying now?” I ask. Maria shakes her head at him like she is disappointed, and his eyes are filled with an emotion I’m used to seeing in men. It’s guilt.
“Nothing. It’s about her son.” I know it’s a lie, and I commit that look to memory, so the next time he lies, I recognise it.
“You’ll give me a son,” he adds, his eyes fixed on Maria. “Soon.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Now, I know you’re making this up. Can she feel that we’re fake news?”
“Is the sexual chemistry flying between us fake news?” he quips. “No one said you had to be in a relationship with me to give me a son.” I screw my face up. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll have a child with Anton Martinez. I get daily whiplash from his moods as it is. Spending my life raising his child would be torture.
Ella joins us, and thankfully, Maria’s attention is drawn to her. They embrace, and when Maria begins talking to Ella, tears fill her eyes. They wander away together, and I’m left alone once again with Anton.
“If you’re going to be the mother of my children, you’d better dress appropriately,” he quips, sitting back in his chair. I snatch a glass of something clear and bubbly from a passing waitress.
“Maria is wrong,” I say firmly. “I wasn’t prepared to bring a child up alone with Hulk and I’m not going to do it for you.”
Anton laughs. “If you think you’ll be aborting my child, then you’re wrong. I’ll lock you up until the child is born.”
“And force me to raise it?” I snap.
“Once the child is born, I won’t have a need for you.”
