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“Every day is a rough day, Emelia.” I pause for a second and eye her over as she starts to pick her outfit. My anger starts to mold into something deeper, like it’s searching for an outlet, and before I can stop myself, I’m on her, my hand gripping her neck with enough force to keep her still and show her my authority.
“Nico!” she gasps.
“You listen to me, and you better not lie to me, Emelia. I would hate for you to end up being a newlywed who didn’t even make it through her honeymoon.”
She gulps, and I feel it against the palm of my hand. Her eyes widen, and this is the first time I see true fear there. It's not the kind I saw when I nearly killed her pathetic ex.
“You think hard about this, wife. And I mean really hard and pick your next words wisely.”
She claws at my hands, and a tear falls, so I loosen my grip. It's not my touch causing her tears though; it's the fear of God in my eyes burning into hers.
“Wh-What?” she stutters.
“Is your father fucking with my outfit, and did he send his walking siren of a daughter as a distraction? Was this an alliance, or are you a fucking decoy, Emelia?”
Her eyes search mine, as mine do hers, and there is no sign of deception. I can smell, see, and sense that shit from a mile away. Like sharks smell blood in water.
“No, he didn’t. I was sold off to you so you two could shake hands and be allies, Nico. I swear.” Her words are rushed.
Is this fear talking? Or is it blatantly obvious that she’s lying, and I can’t decipher between the two?
“Emelia!” I yell, my face inches from hers, and my free hand comes up and punches the wall next to her head.
“Nico, I swear it. I know nothing. My father said this was a deal to end the war between you two. He feared you and knew his sons would be too weak to keep up the war. They would have died at your hands, and you would have taken over his outfit. So here I am, the treaty between two families. That’s all I know.”
I release her.
That’s real fear.
Even if her father has a plan of deception, why would he tell her that? Notelli treats his daughter worse than a rabid dog. Why would she know anything?
That doesn’t mean it hasn’t been his plan this entire time though. And if this is the case, when we uncover it and can prove it's true, will Emelia choose me or her family?
Because if she doesn’t choose me, she becomes the enemy.
And Ineedher to choose me.
If nothing but to make my victory even sweeter.
“Fine. We will invite your family to our place when we get home, and we will see just how true that is. I really hope your father isn’t fucking with my business, Emelia. That would be a shame, wouldn’t you agree?”
She gulps, rubbing at her neck.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Louder, shoulders back, Emelia.”
“Yes. I said yes,” she hisses, and I step back, grabbing my things and moving to the master bathroom to get dressed.
“Be ready in an hour.” Shutting the door, I lean over the sink before bringing my face close to the mirror. My hands grip the lip of the counter hard. My face is red, the veins in my neck are protruding, and I can feel that burning feeling in my stomach, the need to take what calms me and brings temporary relief. The urge to hurt, to take someone and release that anger upon them, is bubbling hot inside me.
There is a part of me I keep cornered until I need to unleash it. I keep it dormant, reserve it, because once I let it free, it's unmatched, untouchable, and unstoppable.
I am the reaper, an unhinged madman with no regard for others. The most dangerous type of man there is, and I would hate for this to turn into a bloodbath.
I suddenly imagine Emelia covered in blood, and something else churns in my stomach, and I really look myself over.
What the fuck was that?
