Page 8 of Cruel Tyrant

“No, I don’t want you to fucking lie, I just want to understand what the hell you were doing.”

I pat the chair her brother had been in just a minute ago. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”

“I’d rather stand. If I get any closer, I’m going to try to stab you in the goddamn throat. An arranged marriage? And you knew about it?” She practically gags on that last part, and if I were a normal person, I might even feel bad about it.

Instead, I feel nothing, only the urge to get the fuck out of this overly crowded building.

“I’ll remind you that you’re the one who assaulted me that night.”

“You dragged me into a bathroom,” she says and throws her hands up. “What the hell was that?”

“I planned on cleaning you up. What actually happened was a pleasant surprise.”

“You fucking knew.” She takes a step closer. “That whole time, you knew, and you didn’t say anything. You just let it happen. You let me embarrass myself.”

I hold up a hand as the waitress arrives. She puts two drinks down on the table, a wine for Stefania and another whiskey for me. I take a couple big sips, holding the glass with my left hand because the cold feels good on my scars. Stefania’s staring at the burned, mottled flesh, and when I raise my eyes questioningly, she quickly looks down at her feet.

“How was I supposed to tell you?” I ask, keeping my voice as measured as possible. “It wasn’t my place to break that news. I was there that night to meet with your brothers, not to speak with you, and what happened between us was a total fluke of good luck.”

“Good luck?” She laughs bitterly and grabs her wine, downing half in two big gulps. “God, I’m so fucking embarrassed by this whole thing, and you’re just sitting there like this is no big deal. We’re supposed to get married and we freaking—” She cuts herself off like she can’t say it.

“We had a very special moment together in the men’s bathroom of this club,” I say, struggling to keep a straight face. I can’t help but fuck with her. She’s getting so damn flustered and I find it beyond sexy when her cheeks flush red and her jaw works. “Isn’t it better that we’re getting married now?”

“No, not at all, and I never said I’m going to marry you.”

That makes me sit up. I’m not exactly thrilled about this situation either, but I wouldn’t dare refuse to do my part for my family, even if that means taking a wife I don’t want, even a wife who clearly despises me now.

“I wasn’t aware you had a choice,” I say, which makes her even more angry. Although I don’t know why—it’s not like I have a fucking choice either.

“I don’t know how it works where you come from, but my brother isn’t going to force me into anything. Maybe it screws up your stupid plans, but you can marry your freaking hand for all I care, because there’s no way I’m spending the rest of my life with you.”

I take a slow, deep breath to keep myself calm. She’s upset right now, which is completely understandable, but I don’t think she understands what refusing this marriage will do. I gesture at the chair next to me again.

“Please sit down and listen to me for one second.”

“No, I said what I came here to say, and now I’m done. I’m not marrying you. Good luck being a prick to someone else.”

“Stefania,” I say, struggling to keep myself under control. “You stubborn, selfish girl, sit down and just listen.”

“I’m stubborn and selfish?” Her eyes widen and a shocked laugh escapes her lips. “You’re saying that I’m the selfish one?”

“If you break this marriage, you will be screwing up months of negotiations and putting your entire family in jeopardy. I don’t know what your brother told you, but this arrangement isn’t some fucking fairytale fantasy love story. This is about the survival of both our organizations. Now, sit down and listen.”

She doesn’t move. I can tell I have her attention at least. Her face softens and she looks skeptical, but she’s not yelling at me anymore, which is a step in the right direction.

And it helps that I’m not lying.

“Talk fast,” she says and sits on the very edge of the chair. She downs the rest of her wine. “I’m out of here in two minutes.”

I rub my face, beyond frustrated by this entire situation. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down on her in that bathroom, except I don’t think I’ll ever really regret that. The look of ecstasy on her face as she came on my tongue is worth this fucking headache.

“Your family is weakened from years of fighting a war,” I tell her, speaking quietly enough that she’s forced to lean closer. “They need our connections to the Mexican cartels for better access to drugs, and they need it fast before their rivals begin pushing into their territory.”

“We have no rivals,” she says, waving me away. “The Milano Famiglia and the Rinaldo Famiglia are both allies. There are no other crime families in Philadelphia.”

“Not yet, you’re right, but the New York families are going to move in soon. Those sharks smell blood in the water, and they plan on muscling onto your turf now that you’ve been beaten up and weakened, and it’ll work unless your brother does something drastic.”

All of that is true. Renzo allegedly had spies in the New York families and they reported back on their plans, which happen to match the rumors we heard from our own little listening network. But I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

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