“I won’t love you.”
“But then . . .?”
“I expect you to be faithful. I expect you to eventually bear my children, but I will never love you.”
“And you? Will you be faithful?”
He levels me with a look that makes it obvious he thinks I’m an idiot. Of course, he won’t be. I know men like him. Men like my father. They are all cut from the same cloth.
My teeth grind together. There are many not so nice words sitting heavy on my tongue. Instead of shouting them out, I take a long, deep inhale and then blow the air out of my mouth. It does little to calm me. I refuse to be married to a cheating pig. “No.” My head shakes back and forth. “I won’t marry you and be faithful unless you agree too. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.”
“You can’t expect me to be one thing and then you don’t follow by the same rules. . .”
“Again, I think you misunderstand what is happening here. There isn’t a democracy. You don’t get a vote. You will marry me. Regardless of your belief that you have a say in it, you don’t.”
“No,” I say again, and now my voice is higher pitch. But he doesn’t seem swayed at all. Instead, he looks like he’s having fun at my expense. “You’re an asshole.”
“If I was an asshole, I would leave you to my cousin. Do you know the difference between my cousin and me?” I keep quiet, not wanting to hear what he has to say. “The difference is . . . I won’t touch you unless you ask. I will take care of you. Once we are married, if you make me happy, I’ll make you happy in return. But he . . . let’s just say he will use and abuse you, and after he gets whatever he wants from your father, he’ll get sick of you.” He pauses for a moment. “You’ll probably end up dead or worse.”
He doesn’t say anything more.
“I gave you time to try to make the right decision, but since you obviously can’t and won’t come willingly, I’m making it for you.” He stands. “Let’s go.”
“What? Go?”
“Yes. We have to get stuff ready.”
“Ready for what?” I sound like an idiot. I know this, but I can’t wrap my head around what’s going on.
“We’re getting married.”
My eyes go wide. “Now? Like, tonight?”
It feels like my head is spinning, as if I’m on a merry-go-round, and I’ve just stepped off. The world’s out of focus. He’s speaking, but I can’t make out his words over the ringing in my ears. I shake my head, pushing the fog away.
“No, Viviana. We are not getting married today.” His voice is low and condescending. I want to take off my spiked heel and throw it at him, but something, and not just the gun still pointed at me, makes me think that’s a bad idea.
“When are we getting married?” My voice cracks.
“We will be getting married later this week.”
The breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes my lips in an audible sigh.
“Oh. Okay . . . good, and here I thought you were secretly an ordained priest, and we would be hitched by the end of the day,” I murmur under my breath, but still loud enough for him to hear me.
I wait for him to make a sarcastic quip of his own, but instead, he nods, looking at me expectantly.
“Now that we have that settled. We have to leave, Princess.”
This has me really confused. He just said I have a few days. I take a step back, distancing myself from him.
“Why would I go anywhere with you?” I ask.
“One, I’m your future husband. Two, I wouldn’t put it past your father to force your hand just to spite me.”
“But why? I really don’t understand why everyone wants to marry me so badly. None of this makes sense at all.”
He moves a step toward me.
Two pieces on a chessboard.
His height makes me feel small in comparison. He must be six foot two or maybe even six foot three. I’m short, less than average standing at five foot two, but compared to him, I’m tiny.
“You are the key to Salvatore getting what he wants.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“Port access.”
My eyebrow raises, and I place my hand on my hip, not really understanding or believing my whole future has to do with docking his boat. It seems a dumb reason to marry someone.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” Matteo’s one-word answer makes me dig my nails into the fleshy part of my palm. This is my life we are talking about. I deserve more than that.
“What you are telling me is that according to my father and your cousin, I’m being bartered to dock a boat?” My teeth clench.
A large exhale leaves his mouth, and I can tell he is already done with this conversation. He looks bored with me. The sentiment is mutual. I want him to leave too.
“It’s not about one boat.”
“Then what more can it be? Why else do you need port access? Why else is my father attempting to pawn me off for port access?”
“Drugs.”
His blunt answer is shocking. Most would tiptoe around these things, but then again, Matteo Amante isn’t like most men.
The room is silent. You could hear the sound of a pin drop if I were inclined to drop it.
The only noise penetrating the space between us comes from beyond the window where the occasional horn can be heard. This time, I’m pissed. I step forward, getting closer to him. I stand tall, steeling my spine.
“Seriously, did you basically tell me my only worth to you is so you can import drugs?”
He shrugs at my attack. I’m like a little gnat he’s shooing away. “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”
“Doubtful,” I mumble back under my breath.
He laughs. But it’s not a funny laugh. It’s a laugh that makes my stomach tighten.
Evil and sinister.
His hand reaches out and tucks the piece of hair behind my ears. “You’re so innocent, dear Viviana. Like a princess locked in a tower, never to have seen the real world for what it is.”
“Hardly. You don’t know me. You might think you do, but you know nothing of what I have seen.”
“Not a whole lot if you think that’s the worst it can be. Let me tell you something . . . Princess.” He smiles as he tests the nickname on his tongue. “Many things are much worse than drugs.”
He waits for me to ask, but I feel like the other shoe is about to drop, and I can’t bring myself to say anything else.
There is a pregnant pause. One I fear will change everything when it ends.
“Salvatore might sell drugs, but that’s not why he’s desperate for access. He wants the port so he can bring in women.”
It feels like my heart is about to explode. “Women as in . . .?”
“Yes. My cousin traffics women. Or at least that’s the plan once he can convince your father of the alliance.”
Fight or flight kicks in. The need to run out of my apartment and toward safety floods my system, but I can’t. There is no safe place in my life. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere my father won’t find me, so instead, I remain where I am. This is the better option. I can turn a blind eye to drugs, people choose if they want to buy them, but women, that is not something I can ever move past.