Page 117 of Sinister Intentions

“So that’s the reason you’re still insisting on this marriage?” Jemma whispered.

I stared straight ahead and focused on the traffic in front of us. Now, that was a question that had no easy answer. Actually, it had. Because the simple “no” on the tip of my tongue was easy and, at the same time, unbelievably complicated.

It would open a can of worms I was not ready to tackle right here, right now, and definitely not in front of my brothers.

“There’s a lot of things we have to talk about,” I began cautiously, “but I need you to understand?—”

“Enlighten me then,” she said, her tone guarded but also challenging.

Always challenging. “Why don’t we talk about it all after we’ve talked to your father?” I said.

The way she scowled at me was annoying as hell. As if she expected the worst from me…even now.

I rubbed my neck. “How about, instead, you tell me what you and Isabella talked about?” I said because there was something bigger going on. Something in the way they’d acted told me it was something serious. And not knowing made my skin crawl.

“Maybe we should talk about that later, as well,” she retorted, avoiding eye contact.

“Damn it, Jemma!” I slammed my fist against the seat in front of me, frustrated by her refusal to open up to me.

“Watch it,” Dante snapped.

I took a deep breath, tried to regain my composure. “From now on, we’re in this together. The least we can do is be honest with each other.”

We turned into the underground parking garage beneath Salvini Global Enterprises, and the dim, flickering lights cast eerie shadows across her face, so I couldn’t read her reaction.

She glanced around, her eyes darting from corner to corner like a trapped animal searching for an escape route. “Fine,” she muttered, still not looking at me. “Let’s lay it all out in the open after we’ve talked to Dad.”

I twisted in my seat and faced her. “You’re not scared of me, right?” My heart clenched at the mere thought of her feeling that way. But how could I blame her if it was the case? I had forced all of this on her—I was still forcing her. And at the same time, there was no chance I was letting her go.

Ever.

Our start wasn’t ideal. Hell, I couldn’t have handled things more poorly. But I couldn’t change that now, and she was a feisty one. If anyone could ever handle me, it would be her. “Look at me,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

She finally met my gaze, and I saw uncertainty in her eyes. My chest squeezed tight. “Whatever happens, you’re mine now.”

Dante killed the engine, which gave my words unnecessary emphasis, but a little embarrassment wouldn’t stop me.

“We’ll face whatever the future brings together. And I promise, we’ll be okay,” I said, hoping she could see the sincerity in my eyes and hear the conviction in my voice.

We would make this marriage work. Because for some strange reason, I’d found my perfect match in all of this.

The moment of silence stretched, but thankfully, for once, my asshole brothers kept their mouths shut.

“Alright.” She sighed, relenting. Then she glanced around the parking garage.

“Where are we exactly?”

“Salvini Global Enterprises headquarters,” Hero said.

She nodded. “And we’re here because…” she asked. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Helicopter’s on the rooftop,” I said. “We’re heading to Boston to see your father. Since there’s a 24-hour waiting period on the marriage license anyway, I figured we may as well do this the right way and tackle this conversation head-on.”

“Of course,” Jemma muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “Let’s do this the right way.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “And let’s add another lovely trip to this already fantastic day.”

“Jemma,” I warned, and the muscle ticking in my jaw betrayed my impatience.

“Sorry,” she said sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. “I forgot you’re the boss here. And I need to learn my place.”

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