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“This marriage won’t work if you fight me.”
“Said the predator to its prey.” Despite the slight shake in her hands, there was an edge of sarcasm in her voice and that grated at me.
“I’m not the enemy.”
“I know,” she responded.
“It’s good to hear you realize that—”
“You’re the devil.” She practically spat the words out at me.
I was stunned into silence for a moment—not something that happened often—then I felt my hackles rise. “Look, we’re getting married, one way or another.”
I saw a fire spark in her eyes. Perhaps she wasn’t as docile as I had first thought her to be.
“I’m used to dealing with unwilling people, reluctant to do what they need to do. And you need to realize that you have no choice in this matter. It’s been decided and the contract has been signed." These were the stark facts of the situation. "There’s no way out for you now, and all the pouting in the world isn’t going to change things.”
“Pouting?” Her tone was incredulous.
“Yes, pouting. I won’t stand for it now, and I won’t stand for it once we’re married.”
“And what will you do if Ipout?”
“You should know that I have no conscience,” I advised her with a hint of warning.
“I’ve already gathered that. Is that all?” Her tone was angry, but I could see a faint glimmer of tears in her eyes.
I clenched my jaw. “For now.”
She went to walk past me. I was standing right next to her, and she appeared to take great care not to touch me as she passed.
I sighed as I watched her go. Once she was gone, I went to the drinks cabinet and poured myself a glass of whisky, knocking it back in one go.
I knew I shouldn’t be so affected by this girl, but it angered me that I was no longer in control of the situation. I prided myself on being in control of every aspect of my life and I thought I knew what I was getting when I’d signed the engagement contract. She had appeared pleasant and seemed the perfect bride to make a show of strength to the rest of the Società.
Now, however, I wasn’t so sure. Having an out-of-control wife definitely did not fit in with my plans.
Jessica Bonardi certainly wasn’t someone I would have chosen to marry. Although everyone referred to her as a plain Jane, she wasn’t plain, but she sure as hell was awkward. I couldn’t see our marriage being a pleasing relationship, nor the sex.
Maybe it was her age—she was only eighteen and seven years younger than me. Perhaps I should have insisted on a more mature bride?
What the hell had I got myself into?
CHAPTER 3
JESSICA
The day after the disastrous celebration dinner and Rafael’s words to me, I finally plucked up the courage to tell my mother what had happened at the doctor’s clinic.
As my words tumbled out, I saw her expression veer between incomprehension and anger.
She grabbed my arm and marched me into my father’s office, repeating what I had just told her, while I stood next to her quivering and my face turning bright red through shame and embarrassment.
“For God’s sake!” bellowed my father. “First Juliana, now you. Both my daughters are whores. Do you know what it would do to my standing in the Società if this got out?”
My mother couldn’t help herself from interrupting my father. “Emanuel Santino is Capo, so he is justified in doing whatever he wants. But, Jessica, really you should have stopped him.” She said this despite my telling her how I had tried to fight him off.
“What happens now?” I whispered through my tears. “I can’t marry into that family.”
