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“Oh, then I should leave. I wouldn’t want you to have to converse with another asshole.”
His words make me chuckle as some of the tension leaves my body. “Are you an asshole?”
His eyes narrow. “Oh, you have no idea.”
“A ringing endorsement. You’re not exactly making yourself look good.”
“I know who I am and what I want.” His eyes rake over me, making me shiver.
“And what do you want?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He leans in closer to me. “Do you want me to let you in on a little secret?”
“Sure.”
“It involves you.”
I blink. “Wha—”
“Gemma!” My mom’s voice echoes throughout the hall. I spin around to face her. “What are you still doing out here? You need to come back to the party.”
“I was just …” I look over my shoulder and frown. Mystery man is gone, as if magicked away.
“Come on.” She grabs my arm, tugging me behind her. I wrench out of her grip.
“No!”
“What did you say to me?”
I take in a breath and square my shoulders. “I said no, Mom. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be married to a man I barely know. It sounds like torture.”
“I barely knew your father before I married him, and we had a love that lasted for years and still lasts even after his death.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come you moved on so fast with Uncle Franco?” I know it’s another low blow. I’m in full-on bitch mode tonight, and I can’t stop myself.
Mom’s lips twist into a sneer …
… right before she slaps me.
The pain is so sudden I jump back a step. My mom is a gentle woman. She’s never laid a hand on any of us before.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mom hisses. “Iloveyour father. Now, you’re coming back into that party, and you’re finding a man you want to marry. You are going to make this family proud, even if I have to drag you to the altar myself.”
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“Fine. Hate me all you want. Just get in there.”
I glower at her as I walk back into the party. A man approaches me right away, but I recognize him. His name is Will, and he’s one of Franco’s guards. He’s not here as a suitor, so I have no idea why he’s coming over to me.
“Here.” He hands me a handkerchief. It’s only after I’m holding it I realize tears are slipping down my face.
“Thanks.” I dab at the tears. “Why are you being nice to me? You’ve never spoken to me before.”
“You just looked sad.”
“Will, I’m not marrying you.”
He chuckles, taking a step back. “A man can dream, right?”
