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“I expect you to sit next to me,” I tell her as she moves more toward where her family sits across the table. She drops her head in submission and nods.
“Head up, Emelia. I won’t have a wife who acts small amongst others.”
Her head snaps up, and she glares at me.
There she is.
I know she’s a firecracker waiting to be lit, to skyrocket into a spiral. To fly free from her confines and let whoever is in her way feel years of pent-up wrath.
She steps up to the seat next to me, and with attitude behind her movements, she sits and scoots in, loudly dragging the chair with her to emphasize her annoyance.
“Emelia. Enough!” her father hollers, and my fiancée’s back seizes, her hands going to her lap and her head dropping once more.
Interesting.
This will be interesting.
Because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this dinner until his mouth is full, as he chokes on the barrel of my fucking gun.
CHAPTER TWO
EMELIA
I hate my father.Hate that he makes me cower and docile around others. Wanting for years to have a voice, freedom, and a place where I don’t need to fight for respect and lose it so easily was a futile dream. I stand no chance.
But Nico, he makes me so angry, confused yet intrigued. It’s a hot and cold type of behavior I can’t decipher. One second, he is telling my father I am someone he needs to respect, then he’s bossing me around. Basically, I’m to be respected by others but still treated like property by my husband-to-be. History repeats itself, and this is the most abhorrent part of it all.
We pray—the young women in this life—that we will be able to break free, but we’re just passed on to another power-hungry man with no regard for us as humans. We are made to kneel at their feet, used to fuck like we are nothing but holes and have their children. All while we play the perfect submissive wife, turning blind eyes to so many different things, including their indiscretions with their mistresses.
I won’t lie when I say it felt good and truly amazing to watch my father cower in front of another man. To feel just a small dose of what I do when he talks down to me. Nico is a good bit older than me at thirty-two, and he has experienced a lot of men infected with power trips, I’m sure. Himself included. Does he ever get annoyed by his own arrogance?
He’s beautiful. That is the worst part. He must be 6’2” at least. His hair is midnight-black and trimmed nicely, showing a slight hint of gray just at the temples. His smile, the cocky one he showed earlier, is perfect and white. It almost makes him seem human and not at all the monster dressed up nice in an expensive suit.
How many men has he killed while wearing that suit and smile? Those broody green eyes—how many times have they watched life leave someone at his command?
More than hundreds, I’m sure. I did research. His father died when he was just nineteen.
He became a boss at nineteen.
This almost—not completely, but almost—has me feeling sorry for him. That’s too young an age to take on such a responsibility. A life of crime, violence, and killing. No wonder he’s hardened and callous—ruthless and cruel. That’s what he is. Everything I learned about him led me to one conclusion.
I’m marrying a monster. An asshole. A man with no restraint. The most dangerous men in our history have been like this. And the women at their side? They have been the most miserable and misplaced women in all the world.
I hope I never have a daughter. Knowing part of this deal is to have a child makes me the sickest.
I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but to a child who wouldn’t be born into blood so vile, with a man who loved me and who I loved. That was the fairy tale I believed in and never had a chance to have. I never made it out like very few women in our world did. No one ever came and saved me.
The only one who has, this one, is another man who wants to lock me up in a cage and pluck out the few feathers I have left. I’ll be naked and bare soon, stripped to nothing but shame, misery, and captivity.
This is a fate I never want a daughter to have to suffer. Maybe I will be barren, and then I won’t have to bring any children into this dreaded life.
“The reception will be here in our ballroom, proceeding the ceremony at the church. We have everything in place. Many made men are coming, and we want it to be perfect. The planner can show you everything.” My mother’s voice comes through my haze, and I bring my eyes up and look at her, then glance at Nico before landing on my plate.
“No need. I just want the guest list. I need to make note of everyone in attendance and make sure we aren’t missing anyone,” he says, taking a sip of his wine. I watch in my peripherals the way his jaw works and his throat bobs as he swallows.
“Sure thing. You don’t want to know the colors? Theme? Anything?” my mother questions with a surprised tone as her voice moves across the table to where we are.
“No. You can tell my underboss, Giulio, this information, and I will make sure I have the things I need.”
