AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Before I knew who you were, Villain.”
“There will be other kisses and all of them you’ll give without my asking, so I wouldn’t go around making promises that are destined to be broken.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that he needed to get his head checked, but he saw himself upstairs before I could speak, leaving me on the landing, blinking away my shock.
How did he even know where to go?
But the answer was clear.
He’d been here before.
He knew my father.
And he didn’t like him one bit.
I spent the next two hours chain-smoking in the kitchen, pacing back and forth, and making myself cappuccinos only to throw them away after one sip.
Smoking was the only bad habit I was permitted to maintain. My mother said it helped with curbing my appetite, and my father was still of a generation where it was seen as sophisticated and worldly.
It made me feel grown-up when, otherwise, I knew I was being babied and sheltered.
Two of my father’s lawyers, and two other people who also looked like attorneys, entered our house twenty minutes after Wolfe went up the stairs.
Mama was behaving strangely, too.
For the first time since I was born, she entered Dad’s office during a business meeting. She came out twice. Once to provide refreshments—a task our housekeeper Clara was normally assigned to do. The second time, she got out to the hallway upstairs, mumbling hysterically to herself and accidentally knocking down a vase.
When the office door finally clicked open after what felt like days, Wolfe was the only one who came downstairs. I stood, as if awaiting some life-threatening medical verdict. His last remark had put snakes in my stomach, and their bites were lethal and full of venom.
He thought I’d kiss him again.
If he asked my father for a date, though, he was going to be sorely disappointed. He wasn’t Italian, wasn’t from an Outfit family, and I didn’t like him one bit. Three things my father ought to have taken into consideration.
Wolfe stopped at the curve of our stairs, still on the last step, silently stressing how tall and imperial he was.
How small and insignificant I was.
“Are you ready for the verdict, Nem?” The corner of his lips curved sinfully.
The hairs on my arms stood on end, and I felt like I was on a roller coaster the second before it dipped. I had to take a shuddering breath and brave the waves of fear crashing against my ribcage.
“Dying for it.” I rolled my eyes.
“Follow me out,” he ordered.
“No, thank you.”
“I’m not asking,” he clipped.
“Good because I’m not accepting.” The harsh words felt violent on my lips. I’d never been so rude to anyone.
But Wolfe Keaton earned my wrath, fair and square.
“Pack a suitcase, Francesca.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pack. A. Suitcase,” he repeated slowly as though my deciphering his words was the issue, and not their irrational content. “As of fifteen minutes ago, you’re officially betrothed to yours truly. The wedding is at the end of the month, which means your silly box tradition—thanks for the story, it was a nice touch in my proposal—is intact,” he delivered the news coldly as the floor beneath my feet quaked and shattered, sending me spiraling into an oblivion of anger and shock.
