Page 42 of Violent Delights

I swallow. “Tell me what to do.”

His eyes soften just enough to make my knees feel weak. “You sure?”

“No one has ever held my heart the way you do. I’m not walking away from you, and I’m not going to lose you.” For a moment, we’re alone, finally, and I rest my hand on his chest. “I’ll do anything for you.”

He closes the distance, just enough for his fingers to brush mine. “You don’t owe me anything, Lia. But I need to save you, keep you alive.”

“I don’t need saving,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I still want to try.”

In the light, I’m someone’s bride.

In the dark, I’m his.

The next day,I’m woken by a knock on the door and ordered to be downstairs in thirty minutes. I know what this entails. My fiancé wants to play happy families. I’ve been hidden away since I arrived, but now that the wedding is close, it’s time for him to parade me around.

Ignacio is waiting on the patio when I get downstairs. “My bride,” he says in a dark tone that is meant to appear happy, but there is a threat twisted around every word. “I insist on walking the gardens with you today. There is a photographer here to take some candid shots of us.”

I nod and smile. “Of course.” Demure, shy, and complacent, just how he wants me.

“Tell me, my bride,” he says as we walk side by side through the gardens. I can hear the click of the camera as we do, and all I want is for the ground to swallow me whole. “What is it you’d want to do with your life once you’re married?”

“I haven’t thought about a future in Italy. I mean, I would love to study, to further my education.” It’s true. The only honest thing I can give him.

“You’ll be able to do anything you want here. I have control over the city, and they’ll gladly offer you space at the university.”

As we walk farther, I answer his questions about favorite wines and favorite colors and how many children I’d like someday. He talks like we’re already married.

“I think once you bear a son, we can try for a daughter. I’m sure you’d enjoy dressing her up and taking her shopping while I work.” Ignacio’s voice is light, nothing like the tone he used with me when we were in the room. But as he continues, it feels like he’s at a restaurant and he’s placing an order.

I don’t scream. I don’t run. Even though I want to, every bone in my body is telling me to escape.

I’ve learned how to float above my body like a ghost.

But when he touches the small of my back, I flinch—and his eyes sharpen.

“Still shy?” he says, amused.

I force a fake laugh. “Just not used to attention.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He tips his head to the side and regards me. “I do enjoy role playing.”

Bile rises from my gut, burning its way to my throat.

“We can play some delicious games when we’re alone. My men will understand.” Then he leans in and whispers, “You can fight all you want, but I’ll know you crave it.”

I fight the puke that’s slowly making its way into my mouth, but then I’m saved by the subtle shift of shadows at the gardenedge. Nico. Pacing slow. Pretending to check the perimeter. But I feel his stare like a flame on my skin.

And for a moment, I remember how it feels to be touched like I’m a secret. Like I’mwanted, not owned.

Ignacio bends close to brush his lips against my temple. “We’ll get comfortable with each other soon enough.”

I want to spit in his face.

Instead, I smile again.

Because this is what survival looks like.

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