Page 8 of Prized Possession

I don’t need to turn around to know Marcus Morelli is standing behind me, and I curse the way my body tingles for a completely different reason at hisproximity. His closeness doesn’t make me freeze up the way other people do, and it takes every bit of willpower not to think about why that might be.

Jacob chuckles, reaching out to shake hands with his friend. I look up at Marcus, hating how small he makes me feel, even with these ridiculously high heels on. He’s not even looking at me, and that sets my teeth on edge more.

“Well, you are an arsehole, but I can’t say I’ve got any plans to kill you,” Jake responds.

“Speak for yourself,” I mutter under my breath.

Apparently, I wasn’t as quiet as I’d hoped when Marcus lazily flicks his gaze over to meet mine. He looks at me with those piercing blue eyes, like I’m nothing more than an annoyance to him, and my temper rages beneath the surface.

“I’d like to see you try.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his voice that should wind me up, but the deep breathy tone only makes me feel hotter. Blush spreads across my cheeks, and I really hope it’s hot enough in here for me to be able to pass it off as being overheated.

“You wouldn’t see me coming.” It’s a much quicker comeback than I was expecting, and I’m quietly pleased with myself…or I am until he opens his mouth with a retort.

He leans in close, his breath fluttering across my ear so that only I can hear. “I’d definitely watch if you were coming.”

My heart races, feeling like it’s going to beat out of my chest. A shiver ripples down my spine, and I hate how my stomach turns like I’m a teenage girl with a crush.

My mouth flops open and closed like a fish, while my brain whirls, trying to think of something to say to that.

Is he flirting with me?

Before I can come up with a response, he steps in front of me, giving me his back, in a dismissive gesture that stuns me. I’m startled, but mostly I’m angry that he can say something like that to me, and then block me out of the conversation like I’m not even here. To say this man gives me fucking whiplash is an understatement.

He’s talking to my brother like I’m not behind him, and I have to lean around him to try and be part of the conversation. Marcus steps in when Jake calls over the server to order more shots.

“I told you, I’m not getting pissed tonight. And you promised me you’d take it easy too,” Marcus says in that annoying authoritative voice he uses, sounding more than a little judgemental.

Jake’s eyes narrow at him, and I can see he’s just as annoyed by Marcus’ meddling as I am.

“I said I wouldn’t do drugs, and I’m not. I never said anything about drinking.”

“Your eyes are like fucking pinpricks, Jake. Don’t lie to me,” he seethes, but my brother just rolls his eyes at Marcus’ judgemental tone.

“I didn’t take anything in your club, like I promised. You never said anything about me taking them before I left hope. Loophole!” he cheers, and I can’t help but smile when I see Marcus gritting his teeth.

I might not like my brother doing drugs, and I happen to agree with Marcus that he needs to drastically cut back on his partying, but I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy Marcus being wound up. The tick in his jaw and the fierce look in his eyes betrays just how annoyed he is.

“Since you’re already high as a fucking kite, you definitely don’t need any more alcohol,” he snaps, grabbing the two shots of vodka that the bartender had just placed in front of Jake.

Reaching around his ridiculously bulky frame, I grab hold of the shot glasses. Jake’s gaze flicks over to me, and Marcus has to turn around so that he can glare at me. I take advantage of this movement by throwing back both shots, one after the other, before slamming the empty glasses onto the bartop.

“Thanks, I needed those,” I state with a very smug smile. Before either of them can scold me like a child, I turn away and head towards the dance floor.

I hear their shouts from behind me, but I can’t work out which one is saying what. Honestly, I don’t care either. I’ve had more than enough of people telling me what to do recently. Tonight was supposed to be about me coming out, having a bit of fun, and forgetting all about the life that’s being forced on me in just six weeks.

When you have a giant ticking clock hovering over your head, counting down until your life will change forever, it makes you so much more aware of the time you have left. It makes me want to make my own decisions while I still can.

All my life, people have been making decisions for me, telling me what to do, and simply taking it if I refuse. This is all my life will be once I’m a mafia wife. I’ll be a trophy wife, forced to obey the rules of my husband, whilst being viewed as a second-class citizen in my own life.

I have six weeks until my life changes forever, and even though I’m no different than I was yesterday when the engagement was forced on me, I want to be different. I want to make the most of the next six weeks, by making all the decisions I can, while I can. It’s a false sense of freedom, and it’s only temporary, but it’s the best I have.

So, I’m going to drink way too many shots…because I can. I’m going to stand in the middle of the dance floor, dancing like nobody's watching…because I want to.

Then I’m going to pick a guy and let him take me home, making sure I’m the one to take all the pleasure I want, not him…because that’s what I need.

I need to be the one making the decisions, choosing what I’m willing to do and when I say no.

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