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Enzo’s out the door the second the chopper stops, holding his hand out to help me step down. The chopper blades haven’t stopped completely, and the noise they generate is still deafening. Careful to avoid the rotor blade’s wake, Enzo hustles me up the stairs and onto the plane, Nathan following wordlessly behind. I try to steal a look at him, but he just shakes his head.
“Nathan, sit up in the cockpit.”
Nathan hesitates, but makes a sharp left into the cockpit as the crew shuts the outer door behind us. A private jet is a luxury—I know that. Most people would give anything to fly private. But being in here, with all the leather seats and the hardwood finishings, makes my skin crawl. I’m this close to beating on the windows and begging the ground crew for help. To please fucking let me out of here.
But I have to get back to my father.
Enzo and I sit halfway back in the plane, two wide-style seats next to one another. It gives me room but not enough. He grabs a drink from the minibar and downs it in one go while the engines rev. I want to confront him. I want to be the kind of woman who confronts him, here and now, consequences be damned. But I can only stare at the sofa across from us with its lap belts and sturdy cup holders.Please don’t die, Daddy.
The plane zips down the runway—too fast, too far away from Rome—and I find myself digging into the leather armrest with my fingernails. My ears pop. The pilot announces cruising altitude. The wind rushes by the windows, a soothing white noise. And Enzo faces me, expression carefully blank. I’ve seen this shit before in meeting rooms, and I don’t like it.
“Your wedding today was a mistake. You are not to tell anyone you did that, because you’re marrying Nathan one week from now.” He checks his watch, the bastard. “The press release is about to go out regarding your engagement.”
I don’t throw up, but it’s a near thing. “Daddy isn’t in renal failure, is he. At least, not the kind that’s going to kill him today.”
Enzo eyes me curiously. “Not today, no.”
“Am I even a match?”
He looks at the floor. “No.”
Oh My God. My knees turn to rubber, and it’s a small mercy I’m sitting down, or I’d be collapsed on the floor right now. I start to hyperventilate. “You tricked me.”
Enzo’s resolve is steely, flawless. His conviction in his own belief is absolute. The arrogant bastard.
“I did what I had to do. Marrying a Montague? What thefuckwere you thinking?”
I struggle to steady my breathing. “I was thinking I fucking love him, you asshole.”
“Love makes us do foolish things,” Enzo says, his words dripping with condescension. “Really, I thought you were smarter than your sister. I guess I was wrong.”
“She’s dead, you motherfucker.” I want to kill him.
“She is, the selfish bitch. You can blame her for what’s about to happen next.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s about to happen next?”
He sighs. “Really, Avery. Don’t you listen? You are getting married to Nathan. Next week. Pay attention.”
A flare of anger dissolves some of my anxiety. I force a cocky smile onto my lips. “You know what, Uncle Enzo? It doesn’t really matter what you’ve got planned. What’s done is done, and right now the marriage license I just signed as Avery Montague is being filed at County Hall.”
Enzo reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, a vicious smile on his mouth. “Thismarriage license?”
My stomach drops violently.How the hell did he get that?I try to snatch it out of his hand but my fingertips meet empty air. Enzo holds it just out of my reach, giving me a big, mocking cringe. “I don’t think so, kiddo. No niece of mine is marrying a fucking Montague.”
And then he rips the only proof of my marriage to Rome into tiny, tiny pieces, a tragic confetti that rains down on the carpeted floor of the jet.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
AVERY
I’ve spent my life learning to present a perfect public image. To always keep my composure, no matter the situation. I’ve clawed the way up the ranks at the Capulet corporation. I’ve walked through a ballroom during my own forced engagement party with my head held high. I refused to let my kidnapper kill me. I kept control, even at the end.
But watching the tiny scraps of my marriage license flutter onto the floor of the jet snaps something inside of me. I lash out with my fingernails, wishing they were razor sharp, and catch Enzo across the side of his clean-shaven cheek. He curses under his breath, the last of the marriage license falling to the floor, and I fumble with my seatbelt. Damn it. Damn it! I have to get away from him.
The belt comes loose and I bend forward, trying to get to my feet, only for Enzo’s big hand to come back across my windpipe. Enzo slams me back against the seat. In my peripheral vision I can see the red blotches across his cheeks, the blood rising against his skin. The thing about Capulet men is that they’ll hold it together in meeting rooms. But there’s no such restraint behind closed doors.
“I thought they’d fucked this behavior out of you, Avery. You were supposed to come back docile and pliable. I paid them enough to destroy whatever streak of self-indulgent temper you possess. You were supposed to come back weak, and scared, and ready to do whatever I said. I told them to break you. I didn’t want you back likethis.” He hisses this into my ear as he squeezes around my throat harder, tighter, and I freeze.
