Being here is like being in a palace.
Okay, maybe not quite as large, but still, this isn’t a normal size home for someone.
It feels weird to walk with him, weird to have a fake smile plastered on my face. I want to drop the false pretense, but I’m not sure who knows the truth here, and I can’t run the risk of creating more enemies.
It’s already hard enough to try to come up with a plan. Giana seems like a good ally. But I can’t be sure. For all I know, this is all part of the act.
Maybe Matteo has sent her in as the spy. A babysitter to report back to him. It’s okay. Better to keep my guard up. I’m used to it. I have lived the past twelve years protecting myself.
What’s another few?
The one thing I do know is I have to find a way to escape, not just from my father now.
The list keeps getting longer and longer.
If I could die of a heart attack, I probably would.
Holy crap.
What the hell am I going to do if he expects me to consummate this marriage?
Die.
I’ll probably die. Because with everything going on, and the fact he very well may be the biggest asshole in the world, there is no way I’m going to have sex with him, and I will kill him if he tries.
My head is swimming at ways out of this situation.
It feels like I’m being walked to my death via the guillotine. French Revolution-style. I’m in the right type of palace for it. If I wasn’t so scared right now, I might find my inner crazy funny. Hell, I’d probably roll my eyes at myself, but I am scared, and no ridiculous thoughts of the corrupt royals getting their heads chopped off will make me feel any better.
Even if that is exactly who I married.
A ruthless monarch.
A king of death.
A handsome devil who will probably kill me in the end.
The blood rushing in my ears is so loud, I wonder if he can hear. My heart thumps frantically. With each step I take, I try to act like I’m not scared.
No part of me likes to show weakness. Throughout my life, I have tried to master my emotions, but Matteo brings out the worst in me. I barely know him, and I can already tell.
All of these feelings are usually schooled, especially fear, but now they run rampant.
Like a runaway train with no brakes.
It’s only a matter of time until I crash and burn.
Stop. I can do this. There is no other choice. I’ll do what must be done to survive. My spine turns to steel, and I follow him.
Together, we walk up a grand staircase, down a long hallway, and to a destination I can only imagine will be his bedroom. Or maybe a torture chamber.
It’s dark, there are no lights on, it could be because it’s an older estate, or maybe that’s on purpose. Maybe the staff was instructed to leave it dark to creep me out and scare me into being pliable. Knowing Matteo, this wouldn’t surprise me.
It’s like one of the estates that belongs on a Regency TV show.
And thinking of my life, apparently I belong on the show, too.
Other than myself . . . do marriages of convenience actually happen? I want to laugh at how crazy my life has become.
I’m so lost in my ridiculous train of thought that I don’t even notice when he stops. My body collides with his. My front hitting his back.
Quickly, I move back, putting distance between us. Please don’t turn around. Please don’t make me feel like a bigger idiot.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, he swings open the door.
The room, like the hall, is pitch-black. My stomach tightens, but then he does something I don’t expect. He turns back around, steps around me, and begins to walk away.
“You’re not—” I start and stop myself.
What the hell am I doing?
Shut up, Viviana.
He looks over his shoulder, and even in the dimly lit hallway, I can see that damn smirk that I swear he only uses on me, spreading across his face.
“Coming . . .?” His voice is low, purposeful, and most of all, seductive. My eyes must widen because he laughs at me, it’s more like a fucking chuckle, but it still makes me feel small.
Don’t let anyone make you feel this way. I stand taller and wait for the ridicule, something that, after living with my father most of my life, I’m prepared for.
Nothing comes out of his mouth, despite me expecting him to say more. Instead, he completely ignores me, looking back in the opposite direction, and resumes walking, leaving me there standing in the hallway like an idiot.
I watch as his shadow fades, and it’s only then that the breath I am holding escapes.
That was close. Too close.
Then another feeling hits me. One I really don’t want to read into . . . disappointment.
It’s not that I wanted to be with him tonight, but he didn’t even want to be with me. For some reason, even though I know I’m his pawn, a part of me liked the idea that maybe a man as dangerous and sexy as Matteo wanted me . . .
Stop.
Don’t go there.
You got lucky tonight, and if you keep standing here waiting, your luck might run out.
Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, I scurry into the room, flip the light switch on, and make quick work of shutting and locking the door.
No unwanted guests allowed.
Now alone and safe, I let myself admire the room.
It’s gorgeous.
Straight out of a magazine.
A large four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room. On top of it is the fluffiest pink comforter I have ever seen adorned with tiny little flowers. But it’s the giant pillow and shams that make me want to jump into it and sleep my life away.
Which is exactly what I plan to do.
With the wedding out of the way, I feel more relaxed. Now that I don’t have to worry about him spending the night, I’m able to strip down and get into bed. I’m not surprised by how tired I am. It’s been insane the past few days.
The problem is, now in my bed, my brain starts to scream at me.
Tomorrow.
What the hell will you do when you have to face your parents?
The scarier question is, how will my father react? He will see this as an act of war. Lines will be drawn in the sand. I have picked the side I’m on, but now the terrifying thought is, what if I chose wrong?
The endless fears of what he will say plague me, but eventually, they lead to exhaustion, my brain too tired to think anymore.
Before I know it, I’m opening my eyes, and the early morning sunlight streams in through the big window.
It illuminates the space and causes me to squint. I forgot to pull back the drapes last night. I’ll have to remember for the future.
With a stretch of my arms, I let out a large yawn. After enjoying the comfort of my new bed for a beat, I pull back the blankets and kick my legs out from under them.
When I step out and onto the floor, I regret it a second later. It is cold against my bare skin. My toes curl as if that will warm them, but it won’t. The only thing that will help is finding my socks or slippers.
I look around the room, trying to remember if I unpacked last night. I didn’t. There in the corner is my open suitcase, and on top of it is half my clothes. Wow, I made a mess last night looking for my pajamas. After walking over to my suitcase, I take a moment to look around. It’s the first time I’m able to really see anything. The room is much larger than I noticed last night. It’s also much more intricate than it appeared in the darkness of the night. The walls are white with ornate, detailed molding. There’s also a large chandelier over the bed. How did I not notice any of this yesterday?