Page 111 of Isaia

I blink. “What?”

“You and Anthony will get married within the week,” he says, his tone firm, decisive.

My stomach drops. “That’s…soon.”

“If you’re both sure about this,” he continues, “then why wait?”

I grab the courage to glance at Anthony, and his gaze is still firmly on me—pensive, considering.

“Love,” Michele says to my mother, “you should contact the wedding planner who worked on the Martin and De Luca wedding. Get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”

“Of course. She did a splendid job.” My mom stands and places her hands on my shoulders, squeezing. “You’re making the right choice, darling. You’ll see.”

Tears sting my eyes, hearing the pride in her voice like I just did the one thing that secures her happiness—but she doesn’t know I did the one thing that would save her life.

Michele’s excitement radiates from him, and I want to scream, to tell Anthony to run, to tell my mom to get a new husband, and Michele to burn in hell. But I nod instead because I have no choice.

Anthony leans forward. “Are you okay with the wedding being so soon?”

“Of course,” I say, hiding my heartache. “Like Michele said, there’s no point in waiting.”

Anthony’s eyes linger on me, something calculating in his expression. “Great. Well,” he stands and looks at my stepdad, “Michele, if you’ll excuse me and my new fiancée. We have much to discuss. Alone.”

I glance at Michele, who gives me a sharp look, a reminder of what’s at stake, and I nod, pushing my chair back and standing.

Anthony leads me out of the dining room and into the study, where the air feels less oppressive but no less suffocating. He closes the door behind us, turning to face me with a seriousness that makes my throat tighten.

“Cut the bullshit, Everly. And tell me what’s really going on?”

I balk. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t want this,” he says, gesturing between us. “I’ve known you long enough to see when you’re putting on an act. What’s happening, Everly? Why are you doing this?”

Tears well up, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. “I’m agreeing to marry you. Willingly.”

“I don’t buy it.” He places his hands on his waist. “A week ago, you were in Chicago, making it clear that you chose Isaia. And now you’re here, agreeing to a marriage you’ve been dead set against since the beginning?” Concern flashes in his eyes. “Did he hurt you, Everly?”

“Who?”

“Isaia. Did he hurt you? Do you need protection? Is that why you’re agreeing to this?”

The mention of Isaia sends a pang straight through me, and I struggle to keep my composure—struggle to keep the pain from crippling me right in front of the man I need to convince, or I lose my mother.

But Anthony knows me; he can see right through me. If I tell him about Michele’s threat, that I’m being forced to do this, he’ll starta war against my stepdad. He made that clear. But while that war’s raging, time will be running out for my mom.

Michele doesn’t make idle threats. He’ll make sure my mom dies a slow, bitter death while Anthony keeps the promise he made me. And even if I tell my mother everything, she won’t listen to me. She never has—not when it comes to her husband.

I have no choice. I have to make this all seem real, and the only way to do that…is to lie.

“Yes.” The words slice up my throat. “You were right. I was in too deep, and being your wife is the only way I can get out of it.”

I know all about their rules, how wives are off-limits, something sacred no other man could touch, no matter the circumstances. If I can’t convince Anthony that this is what I really want, I’ll convince him this is what I need.

“Please, Anthony,” I beg, and his eyes darken.

“Tell me what he did to you. Tell me what he’s threatening you with.”

“Don’t make me say it,” I plead because there is nothing to say. There is no threat, nothing I need protection against except my stepdad, but Anthony can’t know. He can never know. “I know you’ve done so much for me, and you’ve always protected me. And now I’m asking you one last time to …keep me safe.”

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