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In this moment, I choose Nico.
My father wouldn’t torture me for betraying him. No, he’s too much of a coward to do that. He would be quick.
But Nico? He would be ruthless, and I don’t want to suffer through my death. I want it to be painless and quick, so it’s Nico I choose to be loyal to.
I realize I didn’t respond, and quickly, I nod, keeping my eyes forward and holding back any snide remark that would make him angrier. I’ve now met the devil in his human form, and I never want to strip the flesh and meet the real him.
When my father comes, I will tell him I’m no longer his inside man, and he can do what he needs with that information. But it will not be me who helps him take down Nico.
My husband keeps a tight grip on my thigh and goes back to taking in the sights. He releases a deep breath and says into the open, “What a beautiful day, isn’t it, Emelia?” His smile is cunning and all knowing. He acts as if he isn’t practically paralyzing me with dread.
“Very.”
“We will shop a little, then enjoy some lunch. Then we can relax on the beach,” he states.
I’m not sure what to say, so I go with the easiest thing I think up quickly. “Thank you.”
“Of course, my bride. It's our honeymoon.”
Another chill tingles up my spine. What the fuck is he doing, and how do I get it to stop? I’d rather take his anger than these false niceties that intensify and solidify his power and control over himself and me.
The boat docks, and he stands, taking my hand and gripping it painfully. I wince, and he looks back at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I look at the bodyguards and lower my voice. “You’re hurting me.”
His eyes search mine, and I hold my breath, terrified of his response. But he just loosens his grip, kissing my knuckles before interlocking our fingers.
This gesture throws me off, and when I finally feel somewhat steady again, I look up and give him a soft smile. “Thank you.”
He grunts, and that’s that. We head toward the Grecian streets, and he never lets go of my hand.
He’s placed his guards strategically, two in front of us and two behind. The tension is still there, and I just want to breathe and focus on something else, so I window shop, seeing all the beautiful things this town has to offer.
We pass a jewelry shop, and as we continue forward, I do a double-take at the piece of artwork they have in the window made up of a string of gorgeous diamonds.
“Would you like to stop and look in there, Emelia?” Nico asks, his first words since the boat.
“Oh, no. I just saw this pretty choker. They’re stunning, but I’ve never owned one. Never thought chokers would look good on me.”
“And why is that?” We keep walking.
I shrug. “I don’t have the neckline for it. That’s what my mother says anyway.”
“When has your mother ever told you anything that held the truth? You couldn’t just buy one on your own? Wear it for yourself when she wasn’t around?” We cross the street, him looking both ways and guiding us.
“Never, now that you mention it. And I was never allowed to buy things they didn’t approve of. Besides, I wanted my grandmother’s. They were special,” I confess, seeing my sweet grandmother's face in my head.
“Did she leave them for your mother?” he asks.
I shake my head.“No, for me. But Mother kept them for herself, and that’s when she told me chokers are not meant for women with larger frames, like me.”
His hand tightens briefly, then loosens, and I sneak a look up at him. His eyes are covered in Ray Bans, so I can’t tell what emotion they hold, but his jaw is stiff.
“They body-shamed you? Real winners. You didn’t believe them, did you, Emelia?” He stops us then, in the middle of the sidewalk, and people just move around us. You would think they’d seem annoyed by him stopping—us two and his four large bodyguards—but now that I’m conscious of it, every person has moved briskly and avoided Nico and me.
Lucky bastards.I wish I could fly under the radar, or run and hide. Anything to get away from this terrifying man. I almost want to whisper “help me” to each passerby, but I don’t want to be responsible for the death of an entire village.
