Page 26 of The Merciless Don's Bride

“That’s the spirit,bella. Would you like a drink?”

He gestures to the glass and the bottle of whiskey on the table. A part of wants to decline. The last thing I should be doingis letting my guard down around him. But I’ve had a long hard, shitty couple of days. And like he said, he would never hurt me.

The man chose me to be his bride. Why? I have no clue but I’m sure as hell going to find out. Damien Luciano is a mystery wrapped in intrigue. I have no interest in trying to figure him out. What I do want to do is figure out a way to escape him.

Cosa Nostra, Dons, marriage. None of that appeals to me. This isn’t where I belong. I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for my life and next time… I won’t miss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAMIEN

She doesn’t process information the way most people would. There’s no element of emotionality in the way she approaches her problems.

And her lack of tears yesterday at the funeral didn’t escape my notice either. She seems to be adept at bottling up her emotions. And I don’t think that’s healthy at all.

I’m not saying I’d prefer it if she was crying. And I’m certainly not a master when it comes to dealing with emotions. But I do know that they need to be dealt with, regardless of how painful they are. When I’m angry or upset, I find release through violence. It might not be the healthiest method, but at least my feelings aren’t bottled up.

Currently, Cassandra seems intent on finding release at the end of the bottle of whiskey. We’ve been silent for the better part of an hour. I lean back in my chair, swirling the glass of whiskey in my hand, watching her. She’s seated across from me, legs tucked up on the armchair. I watch as she tips another glass into her mouth, without even flinching, throat working as she swallows it down like water.

It’s impressive. But the way she’s doing it, calm, detached almost mechanical. It’s a little worrying. It’s like she’s trying tofill some cavernous emptiness inside of her. Which doesn’t bode well for me. I brought her here, chose her in order to fill the emptiness that’s been brewing inside of me for ages.

And now it seems she’s got damage stitched into her skin as well. Maybe we’ll fix each other. Unravel the demons that hurt us. Or maybe we’ll worsen our individual scars. Either way, I look forward to seeing where we’ll end up.

She refills her glass again, emptying the bottle and I shake my head slightly.

“That was a twelve hundred dollar bottle, Cassandra,” I tell her, my voice low with a thread of dry amusement weaving through the words.

She shrugs, finally looking at me. Her cheeks are flushed but her eyes are still clear, bright in that maddeningly enticing way.

“Send me the bill,” she mutters.

I huff out a breath, “I’m not worried about the bill.”

She scoffs, “But I’m supposed to believe you’re worried about me? You don’t even know me and I have a hard time believing you see me as anything other than property, something you have to have.”

“I see you as a human being,” I refute. “With feelings and dreams and hopes for the future.”

“You killed all my hope yesterday when you brought me here and informed me I would have to marry you against my will.”

I swallow down some frustration, gritting my teeth.

“Drinking isn’t going to offer you any comfort, Cassandra,” I tell her.

“Right,” she says, pointing her glass in my direction. “But it can very well dull the edges of the pain from my miserable existence.”

My lips curl down. That’s a little too dramatic for my taste.

I rise slowly from my chair until I’m standing in front of her, “Come on. I’ll take you to your room so you can sleep it off.”

I have an appointment in an hour anyway. I cleared out my morning schedule to talk to her. I’m unsure if we really got anywhere but at least now she has an understanding of the situation.

When I stretch out a hand to help her up, she glares at it like it personally offends her.

“All of this, being kind and gentle. It’s not going to make this any better, you know. I will never accept this,” she promises.

“I know,” I murmur softly.

She believes she won’t but some things in life are simply inevitable. I don’t know what she sees in my expression but her gaze softens for a fraction of a second and she accepts my outstretched hand, allowing me to pull her up. I can’t help but take a moment to appreciate her beauty. Soon, you’ll choose to stay. Not because I made you, but because you’ll want to.

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