Page 8 of Wicked Angel

I shook my head. “No, I don’t—Ican’tagree to this.”

My father’s face changed, shifting and morphing into one I knew too well. It was the face of the head of the Price Family—the immovable and unrepentant man who was responsible for things I refused to be a part of. Things that would almost certainly have him arrested and committed to federal prison for life if he were any less careful. And now … I was the next piece of his business plan. A simple pawn, no matter how much I worked on leaving this life behind.

"I've made my decision," he said, releasing my hands, leaving me feeling cold all over as the blood drained from my face. "It would be in your best interest to give Gaven a chance."

“This isn’t the medieval ages, Dad,” I hissed, my voice breaking when I realized Gaven was watching my humiliation with a curious and analytical gaze.

“No, but you are part of a very old-school family, Evangeline. My marriage was arranged too. Youwillagree to this.” It was a command, not a request. I wanted to protest harder, but I knew the truth—no matter how much my father might care for me, he would force the issue. Or choose someone far worse.

Heart hammering against my ribcage, I looked over to Gaven Belmonte. By all appearances, he wasn’t monstrous. Appearances, however, could be deceiving. As if understanding that our small interlude had come to an end, Gaven stepped forward and offered his own hand in greeting.

“It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel,” he said. “I look forward to our life together.”

“Evangeline,” I corrected automatically as I took his hand. It nearly engulfed mine with warmth and strength. His palm and fingers were rough with callouses as he squeezed lightly.

He smiled. “I think Angel suits you.”

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I remained silent, simmering in my rage and desperation. Already, I was trying to work out what would be the best course of action.

How could I turn back the clock?

How could I get out of this?

What did I have to do to get this man to refuse me as his wife?

“I understand you may be a little confused by all this, but I was hoping that you would join me for dinner tomorrow.” He smirked. “I think it’d be nice to get to know one another more intimately, don’t you?”

My lips parted and my eyes bounced from his to my father's and to Jackie’s—who stared at the two of us with a deep scowl on her face. “We don’t know each other,” I stated. “What makes you think one dinner will change anything?”

“Angel.” My father’s angry voice was so rarely turned on me that when he said my name in that gravelly tone, it made my pulse jump.

Gaven’s hand tightened on mine, and he used his hold to pull me closer until he could lean down and brush his lips over my ear as he spoke. “I promise you won’t regret it,” he said. “Just one date.”

“She agrees,” my father said.

No, I fucking didn’t, but I couldn’t deny it now. Not with his glare burning into the side of my face.

As Gaven backed away and released my hand, the hard, beckoning stare of my father told me what I already knew. This was all a farce. Gavin's request was merely an illusion. The reality was that the choice had already been made for me, so I gave the only answer I could, the words feeling like acid on my tongue.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Yes. I’ll go to dinner.” And that was where I’d start to make him regret his choice.

3

ANGEL

Dreams were fragile creatures, so easily damaged, so easily cast aside. I was beginning to learn that. My dreams of going away to college and leaving behind this life—a life bathed in crime and secrets—seemed as far away as ever as I walked through the estate to the front, where I would wait to be picked up by Gaven Belmonte.

After the meeting in my father's office the day before, Jackie had stormed off, her mood having turned foul for some unknown reason. She'd been perfectly amused to hear of my arranged marriage, but now she seemed more upset by it than even I was. And I wasplentyupset over it. The man my father had chosen was handsome, and a part of me felt as though I should've been grateful for that small consolation, but it couldn't erase the fact that I didn't know him or that I would forever be tethered to this family and its cruel intentions.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a harsh breath as I contemplated turning my ass right back around and going back up to my room to lock myself inside. It would be a child’s tantrum, but I felt like throwing one right now. All of my carefully laid plans were being ruined, and the man—Gaven—didn’t seem all that concerned with the fact that I had no interest in marrying him.

"Miss." My eyes opened as Bruno, one of my father’s closest men, approached me. "Mr. Belmonte's here. He's waiting in the sitting room."

“I see..” I glanced down at my dress before smoothing the slightly wrinkled sides, the movement giving me something to do. Unlike Jackie, I didn’t wear dresses too often—much preferring jeans and shirts to her tightly fitted designer outfits. Right now, I felt out of place in the dress even though it wasn’t nearly as tight and flowed down my thighs in light folds of fabric. I reached up and touched my curled hair. I hadn’t wanted to make any more effort than necessary, but Gertrude wouldn’t hear of it, so she’d spent the better part of a few hours styling my hair into soft curling waves and painting my face with far more makeup than I usually wore.At least it was all natural looking, I reminded myself. I’d rejected any harsh colors and gone for neutrals.

The fidgeting and adjusting allowed me to hide the slight tremble in my hands that Bruno would probably report to my father, to note how theengagementwas developing. Swallowing the lump that formed in my throat, I forced my gaze back on him. "Thank you, Bruno."

Bruno nodded, his eyes following me as I moved past him. The place where Gaven waited was a room my father often invited guests. Gaven was different, in any case. Just as my father had said, he was no guest. He would soon be the next head of the Price Family. This man knew what that meant. He knew who my father was, knew what he did, and I could only assume that meant he was just like him.

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