Page 148 of Carnal

Something about it makes me fearful. I quickly soften my voice and add, "I'm excited to be home. Can you show me around?"

He relaxes then leads me up the steps and past several thugs with machine guns.

I swallow hard, trying to display confidence, but it's hard. If I'm with Biagio, they're surely there to protect me. But if that's true, why do I think they'd kill me in a heartbeat?

Biagio leads me through the grand house. The finest of materials are everywhere. Marble, real metals, precious art, and luxurious fabrics adorn the place. There are so many rooms, I get overwhelmed. We get closer to the staircase, and Biagio knocks on a door.

"Come in," a gruff voice states.

Biagio opens the door, and the hairs on my arms rise. A salt-and-pepper-haired man with similar facial features as Biagio sits behind a desk, but unlike Biagio, he has a potbelly. A cigarette burns in an ashtray to his right.

I refrain from coughing even though the smoke suffocates my lungs.

The man arches his eyebrows, as if we're bothering him.

"Papà, Pina's home," Biagio announces, but the typical confidence he usually has seems fake. He turns to me. "Meet my father, Jacopo Abruzzo."

His father slides back in his chair then presses the pads of his fingers together. He orders, "Spin."

My insides quiver. I gape at him, hoping this is a joke.

Jacopo takes a drag of his cigarette then leers at me with his beady eyes. He snarls, "Do I need to repeat myself?"

I tear my gaze off him and refocus it on Biagio.

"Go on," he urges.

"Wh-why do I need to spin?" I question.

Jacopo slams his hand on the desk, barking, "Because when I say to do something, you do it!"

I jump. My lips tremble and I blink hard to stop tears from falling.

"Go on," Biagio says in a softer tone.

I turn around in a circle and then stare at his father.

"Slower," he demands.

I take a deep breath and slowly turn.

When my butt is facing him, he shouts, "Freeze."

I obey, closing my eyes, wondering what the hell is happening. Did I really agree to marry a man whose father is checking out my ass?

"Is she still swollen from the accident?" he asks.

I spin. "Excuse me?"

"Did I say you could turn around?" he challenges.

I glance at Biagio.

He slides his arm around me. "She's still recovering. Give her a pass, Papà."

Jacopo doesn't tear his eyes off me. He takes another drag of his cigarette then blows the smoke in my direction. I refrain from coughing, willing myself not to show him any weakness. He stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray and points at me. "You have a week to lose ten pounds."

I gape at him. "S-sorry?"

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