Page 7 of Black Widow's Kiss

Silence drew out between us as I got dressed.

Fine, I’ll admit it. I’m not in the best mood. There was a reason father’s men found me where I was. I can’t always be the ball of sunshine I am without a little release. Father had interrupted my release. Now I was tense.

Sliding into the silk suit Yuki had handed me, I patted at my unruly hair and exited father’s museum-sized office. Crossing the hallway with my obedient sister in tow, we approached my room and I head to the mirror.

My reflection made me sick to look at. All of my siblings were fine porcelain dolls. Even my brothers. I was burnt ceramic. Instead of lying submissive and perfect, like a proper Japanese, my hair was a wired scrub brush sitting on my head.

Barely hiding my disgust, my focus shifted catching Yuki staring back at me in the mirror.

“Well, don’t you look creepy,” I said not getting Yuki to look away.

“I have something to tell you.”

Turning back to the mirror, I pushed my fingers into my curls picking them out.

“And what’s that?”

“Father plans on marrying you off.”

As if she had choked the life out of me, the blood drained from my face.

“I begged him not to.”

My mind swirled. What was going on? Married? Me?

“If he expects me to give him an heir…” I began struggling to remain on my feet.

“It’s not that type of marriage,” Yuki said lowering her head.

“I see. And what type of marriage is it.”

“It’s to the head of the Ricci family.”

Picturing who that was, I almost laughed. He didn’t have his father’s brutal reputation but he wasn’t much better.

“So, I am again to be our father’s whore. Like mother, like son.”

“It won’t be so bad. And I’m sure it won’t last long.”

“You mean because I’ll kill him?” I asked feeling the black widow rest its legs on my shoulders as I stared at her.

Yuki didn’t respond. What could she say? Instead, I spoke.

“And when is this meant to happen?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” I coughed in shock. “He really wants this man dead, doesn’t he?”

Yuki’s eyes met the ground. I laughed. My father was marrying me off to a straight man. Why would my husband-to-be agree to this? Does he even know I’m a man?

What happens when he finds out? And am I supposed to go without sex until one of us dies? If I get my needs met elsewhere, will he think he can treat me like those people do their cheating wives?

His name was Dante, wasn’t it? He was certainly the hot one in that family. Chiseled body, icy eyes, and ink from neck to wrist. I wouldn’t mind him treating me like his wife in one way. I wonder how long it would take him to remember I have a dick.

Pulling off my jacket, I headed to the closet.

“What are you doing?”

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