Page 4 of Brutal Union
"Hello, principessa." I let my eyes travel down her dress, taking my time. "You look beautiful. Virginal. Almost believable."
"Go to hell."
"Eventually. But first…" I step closer, backing her against the altar. "You owe me for the wine. With interest."
Her dark eyes flash with memory. She remembers that night too. The satisfaction on her face as crimson spread across my white shirt, the way she'd smirked while my brothers held their breath, waiting to see if I'd kill her for the insult.
I hadn't. I'd finished the meeting, closed the deal, sent her father home with less than he'd come for. Then I'd gone home and remembered that moment, adding it to the growing obsession that would lead to this day.
"That was business," she says, but her voice wavers.
"No." I lean in close enough that my breath stirs the lace of her veil. "That was personal. Just like this."
She swings the bouquet at my face. White roses weaponized. I catch her wrist, flowers scattering across marble. Her other hand comes up, nails aimed at my eyes, and I have to admire her instincts. She fights like someone who's been trained.
But I'm stronger. I catch both her wrists in one hand, spin her around, and lift her over my shoulder in one smooth movement. The sound of ripping lace fills the cathedral as her dress catches on my shoulder. She shrieks rage, not fear. Never fear with this one. And her struggles are vicious enough to impress me.
She weighs nothing. All that designer lace and righteous fury barely registering as I hoist her over my shoulder. Behind us, I hear the distinctive sound of Luca's laugh mixing with Irish cursing. Someone's about to learn why we own Chicago.
"Put me down!" Her fists pound my back. "I'll kill you!"
"Promises, promises."
Her nails rake across my neck, finding blood. The sting makes me smile. I taste copper where one nail caught my lip. Behind us, the cathedral erupts. Shouts, threats, the sound of weapons being drawn. But my brothers will handle it. They always do.
Somewhere behind us, her sister Alice is probably being hustled to safety. One daughter lost is enough for today. The younger Bernardi girl will be safe. For now. Alonzo still needs leverage for future negotiations.
"Stop this!" Alonzo shouts. "That's my daughter!"
"Not anymore."
I carry Valentina down the aisle like a conquering warrior with his prize. She fights the entire way, dress tangling, veil falling, hair coming loose from its elegant style. By the time we reach the doors, she looks wild. Perfect.
The March air hits like a slap. My Escalade waits at the curb, engine running. Tommy at the wheel, loyal as always. I toss Valentina into the backseat and follow before she can scramble for the opposite door.
She launches herself at me immediately, all rage and claws and desperate violence. I catch her wrists, use my weight to pin her back against the leather seat. The position puts us close. Too close. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, see the gold flecks in her dark eyes.
"Get off me!"
"No."
I adjust my grip, pinning both her wrists above her head with one hand. The other goes to her throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, feeling her pulse hammer against my palm. The rapid flutter of her heartbeat, trapped beneath my thumb like a hummingbird in a cage. She goes still. Finally.
"Better." I study her face, watching emotions war across her features. Fury, fear, and something else. Something she doesn't want me to see. "Now, let's discuss your future."
"Where are you taking me?"
"It's your wedding day, principessa. We're getting married." I lean closer, letting her feel the cage of my body. "Your father's alliance dies today, replaced by something much more permanent. A Rosetti-Bernardi union, except you'll be taking my name, not the other way around."
She tries to twist away but there's nowhere to go. The movement brings her hips against mine, and I see her eyes widen at the contact. Her breath catches.
"You can't force me to take your name…"
"Force?" My thumb strokes the pulse point at her throat. "No, principessa. You'll beg for my name before I'm done with you."
The car turns onto Lake Shore Drive. Through the tinted windows, the city spreads before us. My city now. My empire. And soon, my wife.
"I hate you," she whispers, but her body has stopped fighting. She's smart enough to recognize futility.
