Page 10 of Blackmailed Marriage

It’s not your job to do this.

You hate her.

Aria’s the enemy.

And that pesky side of his brain reminded him that Aria didn’t have a clue what her father attempted to organize. She was told who she was going to marry. Like him, she didn’t have a say in any of it.

Shoving his blankets off, because now he was pissed, he was going to head downstairs to his office and have a stiff drink. Something strong, like his best aged whiskey. He did have every intention of going downstairs, but then found himself stepping across the stairwell, and within minutes, he was outside of Aria’s bedroom door.

This was the one she chose. He told her when he brought her home, to just pick a place, and to leave him the fuck alone. He didn’t even know if she had chosen this room on purpose. It was furthest from his own bedroom.

Go back to bed.

Open the freaking door.

Dante gripped the door handle, twisting it. He’d done this plenty of times in the past eight months, and by plenty, at least eight times. Every time she was supposed to be at the prime of getting pregnant.

He’d gotten used to having to use lubricant to make her wet. Aria had never been turned on by him. Like him, she’d been doing her duty, and she had done so without a single complaint.

She had proven time and time again to be a good wife. Without argument, she was ready for the parties he told her they were attending. She always stood in the corner of the room. Vile whispers traveled and he heard what people said about them, and he didn’t care. He was more than happy to allow people to dig their own graves. If anyone said anything to him directly, their punishment would be swift.

To help torture her and make her life miserable, he pretended he couldn’t hear them. He wanted her to live in hell. But now he didn’t know why.

He walked into Aria’s room, closing the door behind him, and looked toward the bed. There was a small night-light on that cast a soft glow in her bedroom and made it possible for him to see Aria. She looked so small, so fragile.

He wanted to close the gap between them and wake her up, so he could rid himself of these feelings. Dante moved toward the bed, intent on forcing her to wake, to say something, to remind him that she was Phillip Lewis’s daughter, who had trapped him in this situation.

He’d never seen her sleep. Closing the distance toward the bed, he couldn’t help but look down, and her face was … relaxed. At peace. This, he wasn’t expecting. Aria often possessed a furrow between her brows. She always had a frown on her face. Troubled thoughts.

Staring at her now, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was dreaming about him. He reached out as if to wake her, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. With the glow of the light, Dante looked at her.

Aria hadn’t wanted this either. She didn’t ask to be married to him. No one had offered her hand in marriage. She was a lot older than most brides.

He couldn’t bring himself to move.

She looked … pretty.

He knew a lot of people considered Aria a plain beauty. Her brown hair not exactly the prized blonde of her sister. Now, as he looked at her without any anger or hatred, Aria held a softness about her, a different kind of beauty. He suddenly wanted to see her brown eyes, but he wasn’t going to wake her. There would be time for him to look into her eyes.

In the corner of her bedroom, he saw a chair, and he knew he shouldn’t stay. He lowered himself into the chair and watched her sleep. The minutes ticked on and he had every intention of leaving her to her peace. Only, he felt the heaviness of sleep suddenly weighing him down, and he didn’t want to leave her bedroom.

Eyes closed, he started to drift off to sleep.

Chapter Four

Aria tried not to panic as she woke up and found her husband fast asleep in the chair in the corner of her bedroom.

Glancing around the room, she didn’t know what she expected to find. Guards, soldiers, all expecting to kill her. She’d not done anything wrong, but that didn’t mean lies couldn’t be planted on her.

There was no one else in the room with her and Dante.

She still held onto the bed sheet for dear life, hoping against hope this wasn’t the calm before the storm.

If Dante wanted to have her killed, he could have already organized it by now. Once she realized that sad truth, she still didn’t let up on the sheet. Why was Dante in her room?

She tried to ignore the man opposite her and focus on how she was going to get out of her room. He was near the door to her en suite bathroom. Even her closet was behind him as well. She would have no choice but to sneak past him, and use another bathroom in another room. Some of her clothes might still be in the laundry room.

Dante’s asleep.

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