Page 7 of Coerced Wife

Mine.

I pause in front of the library and turn to face Dante. My tone leaves no guessing about how fucking serious I am about this. “I’m with Anya now. I’m not leaving her. Ever.”

“’Kay,” he says, raising his palms. “I was just wondering where you stood on the matter.” He grins. “Because if she ever became free game, I’d?—”

I point a finger in his face. “Stop right the fuck there or I’ll break a rule and kill you on this fucking spot.”

“’Kay,” he says again with a smirk.

Fucking dick. He knows how to rile me up. Probably gets a kick out of it too.

Schooling my features, I grab the door handle and prepare myself to walk into the snake pit.

I push open the door to find the family men gathered around the fireplace where an electric fire shoots orange flames over a flatscreen. Artificial as shit.

Stefano sits in his wheelchair in front of the digital display, an oxygen mask strapped over his face and his skeletal legs hidden under a blanket. Luigi stands next to him, puffing on a cigar. Smoking around Stefano says a lotabout Luigi’s concern for his brother’s health. Raphael sits on the white designer sofa facing the group. His father, Michele, flanks him on the right, and Giorgio sits on his left.

Giorgio catches my gaze when I enter.

Dante closes the door.

“About time,” Luigi says in a jovial tone, motioning for Antonio to pour the drinks.

Antonio breaks the seal of a ten thousand-dollar bottle of cognac. It’s customary to open the bottle in front of all the men participating in the toast. Poisoning is still a popular method of eliminating rivals. Just because the unwritten law states no man will draw blood at a wedding, it doesn’t mean someone won’t slip arsenic into your drink.

Dante takes up a position at my side, eyeing Michele’s men on the left who equals Luigi’s men in number on the right.

When Antonio has handed the glasses around, Luigi raises his. As Stefano can’t speak, it’s up to Luigi to make the toast.

“Today is a memorable day,” Luigi says, dipping his head and looking Raphael in the eyes. “Two great families will join forces. There’ll be no wealthier or more powerful organization than the Bianchis and the Morellis put together. Let’s drink on a bond that will be made in blood.”

A few wolf whistles follow.

Raphael smirks at the mention of taking his bride’s virginity tonight.

Motherfucker. It doesn’t show much respect for his future wife.

The bloody sheet will be presented to both sides of the family soon after the married couple have retired to their room.

Even if Rachele had been a virgin when I bedded her on our wedding night, I never would’ve submitted her to the humiliation. Raphael, on the other hand, seems to have no qualms about fucking his wife upstairs while a bunch of old men wait in the library to see proof of the consummation of the union. Us men get a choice. We can either accept or decline. The women are not so lucky. They’re stuck with whatever the groom decides.

Everyone watches Raphael with perverse expectation.

He accepts with a nod, making me respect him less and hate him more.

Luigi throws back his head and downs his drink, which is the cue for the others to follow. If you ask me, it’s a waste of a perfectly good and rare cognac that needs to be sipped in a warmed glass to release the vanilla and lime blossom aromas.

Raphael is next. Then Michele. Stefano is exempted, seeing that he can only ingest liquids through a pipe in his throat.

Dante looks at me from under his lashes as he lifts the glass to his mouth, wetting his lips without drinking.

While the men congratulate Raphael on his upcoming conquest, I dump my drink in the vase on the side table next to me.

I not only refuse to drink to a vulgar tradition and a man I don’t respect, but I also want to keep my wits about me when Anya is with me in the lion’s den. Let’s face it, half of the guests are from Morelli’s side, and I trust a Morelli just as far as I can throw him. The drink I had at the bar is more than enough. Besides, I’m driving.

Stefano gurgles, pointing a shaky finger at me.

“What’s that?” Luigi asks with annoyance he doesn’t try to mask.

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