Page 98 of Always A Villain
A voice behind me answers, one that makes my blood run cold. “You’re meeting your new husband.”
Antonio stands in the doorway, the room falling silent as he strides closer, leaning in close enough for me to see the satisfaction in his eyes—making me want to recoil.
“You will behave, and you will not embarrass me,” he growls.
I force myself to meet his stare, even as my stomach twists. “Who is it?”
A smirk crawls onto his face. “Enzo Russo. A powerful man and a valuable ally for the Dolore.”
“I’m not doing this,” I snap, my denial laced with pure rebellion, even if my hands shake.
Antonio’s gaze sharpens, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You don’t have a choice. You’ll do as you’re told, or there will be consequences. You’re a DeLuca—it’s time youact like one.” He spins around, leaving me in the prison of his words.
“Let’s get started, Miss.” I slump into the chair, glancing at the stranger staring back at me in the mirror. Split lip, bruises fading to purple. My stomach churns once again, but I sit through it, letting them twist my hair and cake on makeup to cover the evidence of this hell.
Every brushstroke feels like a shove, pushing down whatever’s left of my defiance, piece by piece. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I swallow them. I’ll be damned if I let him see me cry.
Hours later, they finally step back, satisfied with their work. I’m dressed up like a doll, hair in soft waves, makeup thick and flawless but barely covering the bruises. I’m led back to my room, where a dress waits on the bed: red silk, a plunging neckline, a slit high enough to make a statement.
The click of my heels echoes like a countdown as I’m led into the dining room, where Antonio sits at the head of a long table overflowing with food that only tightens the knot in my stomach. Guards flank him, dressed in dark suits, eyes flat and emotionless.
“There she is.” His gaze slides over me, smugness dripping from his tone. “Perfect. Sit down. Dinner is served.”
I ease slowly into the chair, my movements stiff, every nerve in my body fighting this horrific ordeal. I’m empty. Hollow. Tears keep burning the backs of my eyes, and I force them away for probably the hundredth time.
Antonio leans forward. “Enzo Russo is a powerful man. His alliance will strengthen the Dolore in ways you can’t even imagine.”
I glare at him.
“Remember, Victoria. You will behave yourself tonight. Is that clear?”
My mouth opens, ready to tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking demands, but before I can get the words out, the doors swing open, and Antonio’s face lights up.
Turning in my seat, I watch as a group of men stride into the room. I can spot him immediately. Enzo stands at the center of them, tall and oozing arrogance, every inch of him perfectly put together, from his dark hair to his sharp jawline, all highlighted by a suit that screamsuntouchable.Our eyes meet for a second—a brief, defiant flash—and I quickly look away.
“Welcome, Enzo,” Antonio says, standing to greet him.
“Antonio, a pleasure to see you again.” Enzo’s voice is as smooth as silk. Their conversation continues into Italian, the words washing over me as I tune them out.
After a few moments, Enzo turns to me, his eyes roaming over my body. He leans in and brushes a cold, lifeless kiss against my cheek, his lips chilling in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.
Then, his fingers lift my chin, holding me there. “Antonio,” he murmurs, each word as sharp as a blade, “care to explain why my soon-to-be wife looks like she’s been beaten?”
“It was necessary,” Antonio replies, not a trace of remorse. “She needed a lesson in her role. But rest assured, she won’t make a scene in front of you or anyone else again.”
Enzo’s fingers trail lightly over the bruise on my cheek, and his mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “We’ll seeabout that.”
“Please, sit. Dinner is about to be served,”
I keep my gaze lowered, fists clenched under the table as I sit rigidly.
The meal drags on. I avoid their eyes, focusing on my plate, counting each bite until I’m jolted by a sharp grip on my arm. I look up, meeting Antonio’s icy glare.
“What?” I snap.
“Victoria, Enzo asked you a question.”
I glare at Enzo, refusing to speak.
