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I’m quicker, my hand grasping her arm firmly. “Don’t even think about running,” I warn, my grip unyielding. “This is serious. I won’t let you get hurt. You will marry me, or I will have no choice but to keep you prisoner.”
Her voice is small, a mix of defiance and resignation. “What a choice...”
I lean in closer, my voice a growl. “Which is it going to be? Are you my bride or my prisoner?”
I resist smiling. She has no idea that whatever she decides, she’s going to become both my bride and my prisoner.
For the rest of her life.
3
EMILY
As the helicopter blades gradually slow, the rhythmic whirr diminishing to a dull hum, I sit immobilized, my heart thundering in my chest.
He’s been stalking me since I turned 18. The realization should terrify me, send me running. But it doesn’t.
Instead, there’s a perverse sense of safety that envelops me, knowing he’s been there, in the shadows, watching over me.
It’s wrong, so terribly wrong to feel this way, yet I can’t deny the thrill that courses through me at the thought.
The memory of his touch in his office, just before the building was attacked, lingers on my skin like a brand. It was fleeting, yet so charged with electricity that it left an indelible mark on my very being.
His fingers, gentle yet firm, undoing the top button of my blouse, the heat of his breath... it was more than just a physical touch; it was an awakening.
Now, here in the helicopter, every glance from him sends a jolt of longing through me. I find myself yearning for his touch again, craving the closeness we shared, however brief and inappropriate it might have been.
It’s a yearning that goes beyond physical desire; it’s an ache for connection, for the intensity of emotion that he seems to draw out of me effortlessly.
His presence is like a gravitational force, and I’m helplessly caught in its orbit. The way he moves, the intensity in his eyes, the timbre of his voice - every aspect of him draws me in, deeper and deeper.
It’s as if he’s unlocked a part of me that I never knew existed, a part that is dangerously attracted to the very thing that should scare me the most. He killed a man, yet I never wanted him more than now.
I glance at him, taking in his strong profile, the set of his jaw, the determined look in his eyes. There’s a part of me that wants to reach out, to bridge the gap between us, to feel his touch once more. But I’m held back by a mixture of fear and anticipation, unsure of what it might unleash within me.
I’m acutely aware that marriage is a strategy for my survival, yet I can’t help but be drawn to the fantasy that it could mean something more. Can he tell that I wish it was real?
Or am I acting like a lovestruck teenager? An obsessed groupie, not a grown woman? God, he’s so mature, and I’ve no clue what I’m doing. Except wanting him to consummate the marriage as soon as the ring’s on my finger.
He’s telling me he’ll lock me away in his house if I say no. I should be terrified of this ruthless mafia boss. But I’m not. I feel safer next to him than I would feel being anywhere else.
I’ve no doubt all his talk about obsession is just his way of getting me into bed. He’s probably fucked dozens of women using those lines. But it feels so real, I can dream, can’t I?
He turns to me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Are you ready, Emily?” His voice is deep, sending shivers down my spine. “Will you marry me?”
I hesitate, then muster a nod, feeling a strange mix of fear and excitement. “I guess.”
Alessandro smiles, a predator sensing his prey’s vulnerability. “Guess? I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response from my soon-to-be wife.”
His words are laced with a possessive undertone that should petrify me, but instead, it ignites something within me. I glance up at him, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s just... this is all so unexpected. It doesn’t seem real.”
He leans closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “I know, Emily. It is real. And sometimes, the unexpected things in life are the most thrilling.” His hand gently lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Tell me, have you ever been with a man like me?”
The question catches me off guard. “No, I...” My voice trails off as his thumb traces my lower lip. I want to tell him I’ve never been with any man at all but words fail me.
“I thought so,” he murmurs, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “You’re so beautiful, Emily. It’s... intoxicating.”
I feel a heat rising within me, his words weaving a dangerous spell. I should be repulsed, terrified even, but his dominance is alluring in a way I can’t deny. I look at those lips of his and wish he’d kiss me with them.
