Page 146 of King of Obsession

‘I can’t wait to kiss you, my bride,’ Franco intoned. ‘And breed you. Even if it means doing it with a gun to your head.’

I stared in scorn and horror at his dry and cracked lips and closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear, that this could all be a bad dream I would soon wake from.

But when I opened them, the reality was still there.

Franco smiled, a look of triumph in his eyes as if he had wonsomething.

Maybe he had.

He saluted, as did Rocco, before exiting the room and leaving me to ruminate on my coming nightmare.

Chapter 31

CLEO

Time passed, and without a watch, I had no idea of how long.

Rocco came for me, his sneer a cruel reminder of my vulnerability in the hideous, frothy lace dress they’d procured.

I kept my hiking boots on, part in defiance and hoping to escape this incubus somehow.

‘Let’s fucking get this started.’ Rocco snarled and brandished a Glock, pushing me out of the cell with rough hands and herding me with rough pushes to one of their outer barns on the compound.

The air was cool, the breeze whipping my hair about, adding to my discomfort.

A storm was brewing, and heavy, gray clouds loomed ominously in the sky, sending a shiver of fear down my spine.

With a sudden, deafening crack of thunder, the rain poured down, catching us off guard.

Rocco rushed me toward the barn, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

I hadn’t expected the weather to turn like this, but somehow, the tempest was a sign of nature’s righteous wrath about the unsanctioned union.

The gale raged, battering the old shed with a fury that shook its foundations. The downpour pounded against the weathered wood, and the wind howled through the cracks.

Inside, the Contis had gone all out.

Wildflowers adorned the makeshift altar at the far end of the space, and makeshift lanterns hung from the beams.

I almost puked.

The guests, a small gathering of the Conti and Caputo capos, huddled together on wooden benches.

Their faces were closed off as they stared at me take my first steps down the aisle.

I wondered if they pitied me or, perhaps, didn’t care.

Rocco shifted, his boots scuffing against the floor.

I caught his eye briefly, a flicker of something passing between us. Was it hate? Pity? I couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter. I was too far gone.

As I walked, the storm outside appeared to grow louder, as if trying to force its way into the space.

The wind whipped through the cracks in the walls, lifting the edges of my veil and causing the flames in the lanterns to dance.

At the altar, Franco waited, his eyes never leaving me.

He wore a simple shirt, trousers, and a wedding jacket. The outfit emphasized his yellow ex-con skin, how worn and tiredthe man was, and how an insane evil lurked in his eyes.

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