Page 74 of His Bride

My stomach twists, knots pressing against my ribs. My heart is beating so fast, I’m sure it’ll rip out of my throat at any second.

“I have an idea. We could get started now.”

I want to tear his flesh with words. Find a gun, pistol-whip him. I want to punch his face, as hard as I can. Harder than I know I ever could. I want him to bleed and beg me to forgive him for saying such things. But while I’m no pushover and I’m really struggling not to make one of those things a reality, I have to stay calm. If I fight him, I’ll only taunt the beast he is. Make it all twenty times worse…if that’s possible.

I’m just not sure how, because I’ve never beenthatgirl—the one to roll over and play dead.

“Maybe we’re not suited,” I say, keeping my voice flat. “There are so many more women from other, more powerful families, Aurelio, who’ll be the perfect wife for you.”

“I don’t want them. I want the one promised to me.”

“I’m not good wife material.” My jaw tics. “Not even Caelian wanted someone like me.”

“Shut your mouth.”

Immediately, I know it was the wrong thing to say, but that’s my point. I’m not a docile mafia wife in the making. It’s why I ran, why my so-called relationship with Caelian is in shambles. There isn’t a single ounce of obedience or compliance in me.

“Besides it’s not the amount of power, it’s what someone has, and the alliances and people your father owns. Gateways for me and my interests.” He stalks up to me. “Your father’s power with mine will combine and make me an equal to the Dark Sovereign. They’re already weak, with me taking out Alexius.”

“You didn’t take Alexius out. He’s not dead.”

His hand is around my throat, squeezing. “Permission is needed to fucking talk,” he grits. “I pulled the trigger, shooting one of the most powerful dons in this entire goddamn country. I’m already amassing allies. And your father has certain…assets…that once in my hands put me in a position to destroy that family, take their shit, and take Chicago. Or I can destroy your brother. Your choice.”

My blood freezes. “We had a deal. You don’t touch my brother.”

“The deal,” he says, “is you do whatever I want.” Then he smiles as his gaze travels over my face. “Fail to do so, and our deal is off.”

The cold realization of my situation suddenly grips me, and I grit my teeth. Caelian was right. Aurelio has no intention of keeping his end of our deal.

He’s studying me now, like I’m livestock he plans to purchase and wants to make sure I’m all fattened up and healthy first.

“Hmm,” he muses, circling me. “Some things will have to change. Your hair, it needs some red, something to liven you up a bit. You definitely need to wear more make-up, have those plump cherry lips of yours always painted pretty for me.” He stops and leans in from behind, causing me to shiver. “I like lipstick stains around my cock.”

He grabs me, hauls me in, and kisses me, wet, opened-mouthed, his tongue sliding over my lips. It’s like a dead slug, and I shove at him, desperately wiping every trace of him off my mouth.

Something snaps. I’m unsure whether it’s fear, anger, or a little bit of both. But I feel a wave of reckless defiance wash over me.

I whip around, meeting his smug stare with a fierce glare of my own. “You might think you own me because of a little piece of paper, a ring on my finger, and a five-second fuck on our wedding night. But make no mistake, I will never be yours.”

Pure rage explodes across his expression. He comes in fast, calculated, and hits me across the face, sending me reeling back under the crack of his hand, the explosion of pain, the stinging, throbbing heat.

I hit the floor, gasping for breath. The room spins around me in a dizzying whirl of colors and shapes. I can taste blood, metallic and bitter, on my tongue.

It hurts, but the shock hurts more. And the moment I look up at him towering over me, witnessing the look of glee on his face, I know two things. One, he held back. Two, he gets off on hitting women.

I should simper, or at the least, be quiet. Apologize—my brain short circuits at that. No. I’ve got nothing to apologize for.

“Does that make you feel like a big man? Hitting women?” I snarl, as I clamber to my feet. “Because it does quite the opposite. Caelian’s right. You have a small dick.”

“You fucking whore!” He grabs my hair, dragging me to my father’s desk.

“Let me go, or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“You?” He laughs, his other hand digging into my arm as he pushes me face-first into the desk, pinning my head down, his hips shoved against me.

He’s hard.

“You’ll make me regret it? You’re nothing more than an ex-Del Rossa whore whose father traded her to save his son’s life.” His grip on the back of my neck tightens, spit flying from his lips and hitting my cheek. “Baby doll, I control your brother’s fate. I control your fate. So you better learn how to control that cunt mouth of yours or there’ll be some nasty, bloody consequences.”

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