Page 5 of Unspoken Ties

“Ok,” I said quietly.

He only desired to marry me for the benefits associated with my family’s name. The only moments Ettore would show aninterest in me were when it benefited his social standing. I would otherwise be free to live my own life.

I also had no idea what to do with the power I had just inherited. What was I supposed to do with this newfound responsibility I didn't want?

Most importantly, I owed him my life. I was a sheltered, naive girl, but even I knew that was a debt that was near impossible to pay back. Even this marriage wouldn’t cover what he had done for me.

“Fantastic,” Ettore held my right hand and unceremoniously pulled Dillon's ring off my finger, tossing it across the room into a metal wastebin. Then, he took a box out of his pocket. He opened it and carefully slid the new ring on to my finger.

“How were you so sure I was going to say yes?” I sputtered, my face turning bright red.

“Oh, I was going to make sure you said yes.” He shot me a sadistic grin. “By any means necessary.”

When he spoke those words, his tone was not threatening but rather suggestive. The innuendo hung in the air between them like a thick cloud of smoke, hinting at underlying desires and intentions. It was a subtle but powerful weapon, one that could easily disarm and entice its target. Especially with looks like his.

“Still here,” Felix said.

“Make use of yourself and clean this up,” Ettore said, gesturing to my pile of vomit on the floor.

“Have I been reduced to a janitor? Last time I checked, my resume included professional killing and drug trafficking.”

“Find someone to clean it up.”

“At least I’m head Janitor.” Felix stood and left the room, going to look for a grunt to clean up the mess I had left behind.

Ettore’s gaze fixated back on me, and my eyes quickly flitted towards the floor. “Oh, and Hilaria,” his voice caused a shiverto run down my spine, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Don’t expect me to be a loving, doting husband.”

He was warning me up front he was going to ignore me. In the back of my mind, I had held some hope Ettore would want to get to know me as a person and make this a genuine marriage. One based on love and not benefits and debt. But his response killed any dreams I had left.

“Liria,” I responded quietly, still looking at my toes on the floor.

“What?”

“You can call me Liria.”

I had said it spur of the moment. Only my best friend called me by my nickname. Everyone else in my life referred to me by my full name my parents had given me. I hated it. It was an ugly name, and I always felt it didn’t suit me. Now, with both of them gone, it felt appropriate to use the name I liked better.

“Alright then. Time to go home, Liria.”

“Ok. I live in the gated neighborhood.”

Ettore would know what that meant. It homed many rich people, including celebrities, politicians, and mafia families. I waited for him to respond, but all I got was an amused look from him.

“We’re going back to my place.”

“Huh?!” I said, shrinking away from him.

My father was fiercely traditional. Growing up, I had never given more than a handshake to a boy my age. Even with Dillon, the only thing I had done was give him a hug, and we had been engaged. Staying over at a man’s house was out of the question.

“N-No, that’s ok. I’ll go back to my place.”

“It wasn’t an option, Princess. I’m sure the men that killed your father are out there looking for you right now.” He fumbled around in his desk drawer for something, and I saw him pull out a set of keys. “And we’re engaged. You’re moving in.”

Before I could protest, Ettore had grabbed my wrist in a firm grip. His touch was electric, causing my heart to race and my stomach to lurch with a strange mix of fear and anticipation. He led me out the door and down a labyrinth of shadowy corridors until we reached the exit door.

His car was a sleek black vehicle that looked like it belonged in an action movie, not real life. Ettore opened the passenger door for me, and I hesitated before sliding in, feeling the cool leather under my fingertips as I buckled myself in. He slipped into the driver's seat fluidly, starting the car with a purr that echoed through the enclosed space.

As we sped through the city streets, I stole glances at his profile. He drove with an effortless grace, one hand on the wheel while the other rested on his thigh just inches from my own. The silence between us was deafening, but Ettore seemed unfazed by it.

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