Page 9 of Wicked Angel

Since my mom passed and I discovered what the family business actually was, I’d kept careful watch over who my father invited into our innermost estate—some he seemed to care for and some he seemed to despise. I’d come to learn that he invited them all, whether they were friends or enemies, because the best way to deal with enemies was to keep them just as close, if not closer. My only question now was …Which one is Gaven Belmonte to me?

I remembered how my father spoke of him the day before. He’d called Gaven afriend, but it was hard to know anyone’s true motives in this life. If he was a potential enemy, then he'd just been offered the keys to the kingdom, and I was part of the consolation prize.

As I entered the sitting room, Gaven turned away from the window and offered me a smile. It was a careful smile, one meant to reassure, but the only way he could have reassured me was by calling this whole farce off. I doubted that he would, though. That would be all too easy for me, and I’d come to know that life was anything but easy.

"Hello, Angel.”

"Hello..." I let my reply drift as I lowered my eyes. He’d worn a suit similar to the one I’d first seen him in. Dark colors to his lighter skin with a black button down, yet no tie. My eyes scanned even further down to the black box he held in his hand, and a jolt of worry constricted my chest at the sight of the package. "What's that?"

His smile deepened into one that felt more real as he held it up. "I thought it'd be nice to bring you a gift for our first date since your father couldn't be here to see you off."

"He's working. I'm used to it," I said with a small shrug, trying to soothe all the ridiculous ideas my brain conjured that could have been hisgift. Still, curiosity had me reaching for the box as he held it out to me. "Can I open this now?" I asked, lifting my gaze once more to meet his as I fingered the top of the mysterious package.

He nodded. "I'd like it if you could wear it while I search for something more suited to your tastes." He paused, and almost as if he couldn't help himself, he added, "And mine."

Frowning, I pinched my fingers under the lid of the small box and then opened it. My lips parted when what was inside was revealed. I stared down at the diamond choker with surprise. It was a single slender gold chain so finely woven that the links were almost indiscernible. Every inch or so was a diamond, and from the way they glittered—perfectly clear and unclouded—I could tell that they were real, as real as anything my father might have given my mother.

I glanced back up at him, my chest tight. "This is too much," I said uncomfortably.

More than that, it was clear what this was. A declaration of ownership. I shuddered at the thought but couldn’t pinpoint whether or not I was put off by it or intrigued. Perhaps if Gaven and I had met the old-fashioned way, I’d be more keen to accept, but that wasn’t how our relationship had come to be. I tried to hand the box back. “I’m sorry, I can’t accept this.”

"It's not enough," he replied, never losing that careful mask of his as he pulled back without taking the box. “I should have known you wouldn’t care for something so simple. Please keep it and I will look for something better.” His words were almost enough to make me want to scream. I was being forced to marry this man, an elusive and secretive stranger, and yet he acted as if he’d known me my whole life. Or, at the very least, as if he could guess my likes and dislikes without having spent so much as a singular week in my presence.

"I'm sure it's very expensive," I said, trying again to return the box to him. "But I don’t think it’s appro—"

"Think of it as an engagement gift.” A scowl formed on my face at his words. An engagement gift? He couldn’t be serious. "I haven't been able to go shopping for a ring yet,” he admitted.

A ring. For me. Because that's what a couple who were engaged to be married did—they exchanged rings. I'd probably have to look for one for him too. I stopped trying to hand the necklace back to him.This is really happening.

Not only was I really going to marry someone who my father had chosen to take over the family, but it was also becoming an inevitability that the rest of my life would likely develop into something like this. This man bringing me gifts, commanding me, watching me with those … penetrating eyes of his.

"Here." Gaven moved closer. "Let me help you put it on."

Without an excuse for why he shouldn’t, I found myself standing silent and frozen as he removed the diamond choker from the black box and lifted my hair. His fingers brushed my skin, shockingly warm as he circled my neck with the jewelry and clasped it into place. The gold and diamonds felt cold against my skin. Somehow, it became heavier the longer it rested there—weighted and meaningful.

This wasn’t a present. It was a declaration. This necklace wasn’t a sweet engagement gift, but a shackle being locked into place. The visual signs that I was now being traded like cattle and my new owner wanted to see his claim upon me.

My insides roiled with uneasiness and something else. The new sensation was so shocking that it locked me into place as Gaven’s hands moved over the back of my neck.What the fuck?The thought of this man—of Gaven Belmonte—laying claim to me when he hardly knew me should not have made me … excited. Yet, there it was, a telltale pulse between my legs, an abnormal wetness that only ever occurred when I read romance books.

“You should say thank you, Angel,” Gaven said lightly. Despite the gentle and calm note of his voice, though, Gaven’s words were a command and shockingly, I found myself answering.

“Thank you.” The words breathed out of me.

"You're very welcome," he replied before circling me and offering his arm. "Shall we go?"

This was ridiculous. The betrothal, the extravagant jewelry, his offered arm, and that damned gentleman façade he held tight to. It all felt like some horribly dramaticDownton Abbeyfilm. Maybe he thought that acting proper was something that might set me at ease, but all it did was make me wonder what sinister aspects he was hiding beneath the surface.

This was it. This was the reason—after my mother had been murdered—my sister ripped away my blissful naiveté, and my father had finally been forced to sit me down to explain what he did for a living and why my protection was so important. Because knowing was better than being kept in the dark. Knowing was safer. Knowing meant I could plan accordingly. Unlike Jackie, though, my father had never gone into detail. He’d only told me just enough to make me realize that Jackie hadn’t been tormenting me and making it all up. It was real.

Dad was the head of a large crime family and, as his daughter, I was a connection to that family—a pawn to be used. Right now, I didn't have the luxury of pretending this was all just some sick, twisted prank played on me by my cruel sister. Gaven was just as real as my father’s words. His personality, though, was likely a façade. So, I would just have to wait until this man showed his true colors. Only then would I know what I'd gotten myself into and have the means to try to figure a way out.

4

ANGEL

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, and I was a little surprised that he had elected not to have any of my father's men follow us. It was different than I was used to because whenever I went out with my father, we were constantly surrounded by guards. As I'd gotten older, they'd been smart enough to fade into the background—always watching but keeping far enough away that I could at least pretend I had some sense of normalcy. Now though, I realized just how skilled Gaven must’ve been if he was allowed to go free with me without bodyguards. Or how arrogant he was to think he was untouchable from threats. If my father allowed it, though, then the only explanation was that he trusted Gaven.

"So..." I began, eyeing the passing landscape as Gaven drove the sports car down the road, "what is it that you do?" It was an innocent enough question—for a normal person, that is. For me, though, this was a test. I wanted to see how he’d respond. I pried my eyes away from the window to look at him just as his lips twitched as if he were fighting back a smile. "A little bit of everything," he replied vaguely.

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