“I wish I could say something else.” The look she gives me is insecure. I know she does. “I wish I could say you don’t have to do this, that we can leave . . .” She motions around us. Not only do I not know where I am but it also appears we are in a heavily guarded compound. “But you can’t. You need to be strong.” I nod at her words, and she does as well. “Let’s go get you married.”
She pulls me along with her until we are inside. I feel like I’m a little girl whose mom is forcing her to go somewhere she doesn’t want. I’m a rag doll in her grasp.
You can do this.
No matter how much I try to pep talk myself, I’m not prepared.
I’m not prepared for the feeling that takes root in my belly as she leads me to where the ceremony is going to be. The wedding is taking place in the grand ballroom of Matteo’s estate.
I walk toward the aisle in front of me.
I can’t see him yet.
But that doesn’t stop the nerves that are running through my blood. My stomach feels like butterflies are swarming inside. My hands shake.
Tremors I can’t will myself to contain. My feet can barely walk, and it’s not because of the shoes. Although they’re high, they’re not what’s causing me the inability to make progress. No, it’s my fear.
I take a deep breath, willing myself.
Suck it up, Viviana.
You need to do this.
I take the step.
There aren’t many people here, no more than twenty. They line the aisle, waiting. I have to hand it to Giana. She did a very good job. You would never know she threw this together in twenty-four hours. Large calla lilies adorn the room, crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and a small scattering of tea candles add a level of ambiance.
To be honest, other than the circumstance of this wedding and the groom, the room is perfect.
It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself if I had been given the choice.
I wasn’t.
As I take each step, I finally allow my gaze to look at the front of the room, and that's when my breath hitches.
It actually freaking hitches.
As if I am a real bride, and this isn’t a sham marriage.
There he is.
Matteo Amante.
My future husband.
My hero or my demise.
The music in the background filters around us.
“Pachelbel’s Canon.”
I should walk, I need to walk, but instead, I’m stuck in this spot and staring at this man. He must sense my fear because his lip tips up into the damn smirk. The one that should come with a damn warning label. That one that secretly makes me quiver in fear. Stare too long and you’ll be transported to hell.
He doesn't do it often.
Usually, there is a scowl on his face, but this look is scarier than his norm.
This one makes him look sinister.
A normal person would see him and think he’s smiling at me. I don’t even know him, but I’m a good judge of character.
No.
He’s not smiling.
He’s plotting, and I have a bad feeling about it.
We stare at each other for a bit before I continue to walk.
It’s like in one of the movies where everything halts. That’s what it feels like when I make my way up to him. Like the world stopped, and it’s only the two of us, and my future is in his big, cold hands.
He’s standing in front of a priest. Time stops then as if someone put their hand on the second hand and made it. It feels like I’m frozen.
A very long second passes. Then another and another. My chest rises and falls as I will myself not to pass out.
The sounds start to fade in and out. I know what the priest is saying, yet I can’t hear the words. It’s as if my mind knows I’m tying myself to this evil man, and my heart refuses to hear it.
Matteo is standing close.
Too close.
It feels like his presence is sucking all the oxygen out of the room.
Everything is happening so fast.
My brain not able to comprehend anything.
I nod my head. I whisper words back. Then before I know what’s happening, the priest is proclaiming us husband and wife.
I can barely breathe.
The room around me is spinning.
Matteo steps forward, and his arm reaches out to steady me. I didn’t realize, but I must have been swaying.
The next thing I know, he’s wrapping me in his arms. Then he’s lifting my face, his green eyes gleam at me. They are full of emotions I can’t bring myself to understand.
He tilts my jaw up.
I can feel his gaze on my lips. I can feel his breath there, too, when he lowers his face to mine.
It feels like an eternity as I wait.
I know if I look up at him, he will be smirking down at me.
He wants to torture me. He wants to draw this out. He wants to make me crazy . . .
My brain screams for him to do something, and then he does.
His mouth connects with mine.
The pressure’s soft at first, and when I exhale, he takes advantage of the moment. Deepening the kiss, he slips his tongue into my mouth.
My eyes close, and for a moment, I forget why I’m here.
I forget where I am.
I forget who I am.
I allow myself to get lost in the kiss.
As I fall into the dark abyss of Matteo, I know I lose a piece of me to him at the moment.
This man will ruin me.
And if I’m not careful, I’ll let him.
7
Matteo
* * *
I have to hand it to her . . .
She’s gorgeous. Even more so now that she’s my wife. She’s a shiny new trinket to display on my mantel.
My property.
The desire to claim her pulses through my veins.
I do just that. I yank her toward me, seal my mouth over hers, and take the breath from her lungs.
She falls into it.
Pliant in my arms as I manipulate her into giving in.
Her small hands are on my chest, holding on to me for dear life. I allow myself to indulge for a few moments.
Until I hear my family cheering me on.
I had forgotten we had an audience. Now that I remember, I pull away and look down at her. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is swollen from my abuse.
She has the look of a woman who’s been freshly fucked, and if I don’t get the hell out of here now, I’ll do just that, and I won’t even care about an audience.
“Let’s go, Princess.” My voice is cold, and her eyes jut open. The change in her demeanor is immediate. Her back straightens, and her eyes narrow at me.
“You are such an asshole,” she grits through clenched teeth. I can tell she is about to storm away, so I grab her by the elbow and steer her out of the room.
Once we are back in the hallway, I stop. I can’t have her being defiant in front of my family. Although I trust everyone in my line of work, you can never be too careful.
“We will eat dinner, and then we will talk,” I command. My voice is rougher than usual, but then again, I’m more worked up than I usually allow.
She looks stunned by me, which makes me smile. She scowls in return.
“You think it’s funny, you being a dick?” she hisses at me.
“Actually, I do. Now let’s go.” I continue to pull her until we are in the formal dining room. The table is set. Candles and flowers everywhere. It’s not over-the-top.