Page 18 of Wicked Angel

I nodded and glanced around once more, eyeing Angel’s delicate profile as she stared at an advertisement. “So, what exactly are we doing here, Raff?” I questioned after a long pause. Not that the summer shops and farmer’s market weren’t a pleasant place to spend an afternoon, but I had yet to figure out our purpose in coming here.

“I figured it would be good for Angel to get out. And for the two of you to spend time together while still giving us some privacy to discuss the wedding and all of those pesky little details.”

“Is that it?” I prodded, knowing there was more.

Raff chuckled, smirking at me. “You’ve always been observant. I’m glad to see that hasn’t withered over the years,” he joked before sobering. “I also wanted to discuss what to expect when the ceremony is over. For when you take my place.”

I didn't say anything, mulling over his words.Weddingwas still such a foreign concept to me, but the longer I thought about it, the more open to the decision I was.

“I'm assuming that I will be taking over as soon as the wedding is complete?”

Raff sighed before nodding. “As much as I love my family and what I do, I would rather transition everything over before it's too late.” I looked at him, noting the deep-set lines around his eyes and mouth. Raff was growing older, one of the oldest mafia bosses in the United States, and I could only imagine what would happen if his family was left without a successor.

“Yeah, I can understand that, although I'm still a little shocked that you would pick me,” I admitted. We’d known each other for many years, but I had never truly considered us that close. I was a good pick for Angel, but one thing I’d learned from him long ago was that Raffaello Price always hadseveralmotives for why he did what he did. Before I could ask, however, his phone started to ring. Holding up a finger, he dug his cell out of his pocket and stepped away. Giving him some privacy, I sought out Angel in the crowd. My soon-to-be bride. My fiancée. Youthful. Innocent. Just one look at her and I already wanted to corrupt her. It was intoxicating.

8

ANGEL

He was thirty-six—exactly twice my age. A ‘businessman’ according to my father, which was code for he made his money by doing illegal shit. That was it. That was the entire breadth of information I managed to glean from my father. To say I was frustrated would be an understatement.

Even if he didn’t voice it, I knew the truth. Gaven Belmonte was a talented man … in the art of killing. More than that, he obviously had my father’s complete and utter confidence because it was only a few short days after our littledinner datethat I found myself striding along the street next to him as we ran errands and did things any normal couple would do to prepare for their wedding. Except we were as far from a normal couple as possible.

“You seem nervous.” Gaven’s words were lilted with amusement.

I shrugged and lied. “Of course not.”

“Oh?” I could feel the burn of his attention on the side of my face, but I ignored it as I perused the veils and shoes on the shelf of what felt like the hundredth shop we’d visited today.

I scowled at the white lace and the stick heels that would topple any awkward bride and send them straight to the floor. Heels definitely had to be the invention of a man. They certainly seemed to only do two things—raise a woman’s ass and keep them from running away. Heat encompassed my back where I stood in front of the stand of stilettos.

“See something you like?” he asked.

Dimly aware that the two of us are being watched by the guards that have followed us this time—due to my insistence—as well as the store clerk’s, I tempered my response. “I’m not into heels,” I said.

Reaching past me, Gaven plucked a pair of diamond studded stilettos from the shelf and held them in front of my face. “Really? I think these would suit you perfectly.”

I gaped at the three-inch spike on the back of the shoe. “No.” I snatched it from his hand and set it back on the shelf before turning and sliding past him. I exited the shop and started walking, knowing full well he’d follow. He had no other choice. Halfway up the block, I stopped outside of a jewelry shop, my eyes finding the ad centered in the window. A young woman held out her hand to showcase the beautiful, studded diamond ring she wore.

Bright sparkling eyes, a gasp frozen in time, all expressing how happy she looked while I stood there with a frown. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was an actual woman and not an ad, was she genuinely happy or was it all a sham?Like myengagement,I thought with a scowl, my own fingers fiddling with the empty-for-now space where a ring would soon sit. Sighing, I ripped my eyes away from the photograph and looked back to make sure I wasn’t alone before continuing down the road.

Although this was supposed to be another 'date'—if one could even call these forced outings dates—Gaven was several paces back, speaking quietly to my father as our guards scanned the street.

"Don't go too far ahead, Miss Price," one of the guards called out.

"I'm not," I replied lightly, throwing him a tight smile.

It didn't matter, though, how many steps ahead I took, it wouldn't take long at all for Gaven to catch up with me. Both literally and figuratively, the feeling of his eyes tracking me through the crowd practically burned against my skin. If I ran, he would chase because, for all I knew, these were my last days with any modicum of freedom. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could actually do it.

I’d contemplated it before. The thought of being trapped in a world soaked in blood and vengeance was part of the reason I’d gone into computer technology as a major to begin with. There was so much you could do with technology these days—one could even rewrite an existence if one knew how. I could fabricate a completely new identity. To do that, though … I’d have to say goodbye to everything I’d ever known. My family. My home. My dad…

Despite being a mafia boss, my father had always been good to his family; I’d been allowed to leave the house, study, travel, and converse,existaway from the family business—just not without guards. That didn't mean Gaven would be the same though. For all I knew, he’d keep me locked up until he was sure I was carrying his heir.

An heir …My hands went to my stomach.A child that I would conceive with him to continue the Price lineage.

I shook my head. His wants were preposterous. I was too young to have a baby. Hell, I was hardly old enough to be getting married, especially to someone like Gaven Belmonte. I peeked back once more at my forced fiancé. And yet … I couldn't help but watch him when he wasn't staring at me. His face was so perfectly cut—almostthe epitome of DaVinci's law of human beauty. I suspect had he not lived a life of crime and blood, he would’ve been a model or an actor and he would've kept that handsome symmetry. Now, however, his nose leaned slightly to the side, as if it had been broken one too many times, and there was a small scar above his eyebrow that ruined the portrait of perfection. It was that one and another—smaller and slightly curved that peeked out from his collar.

The edge of marred beauty on Gaven was by far even more dangerous. The perfection may have been soiled, but the image of a savage man who hungered for something darker was all too foreboding. From where he stood several paces back among several other guards, Gaven’s eyes lifted and met mine. His lips curled up in amusement as if he could sense the direction of my thoughts. A startling amount of heat rushed to the surface of my skin as I whipped around and faced away from him, nearly tripping in my haste to get away from that impenetrable gaze of his.

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