Page 221 of Merciless Desires

I brought the deep ruby liquid to my lips and took a small sip. It wasn’t as sweet as the glass I’d had earlier, but it was far more flavorful, tasting like blackberries and spice.

“What do you think?” Matteo asked as I placed my glass down.

“It’s good. What is it?”

A half-smile lifted Matteo’s mouth on the left side. “Bordeaux. 2005…” His hand was over mine, coaxing the glass from me, then taking a sip. “It’s my most expensive bottle of wine.”

“You didn’t have to open it.”

He breathed a laugh, swishing the wine around in the glass. “I don’t mind opening my eight-thousand-dollar bottle of wine…for you, amorina.”

“Are you having a glass?”

“Would you like me to have a glass?” Matteo turned the question back on me with a ferocious gaze.

I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me or trying to get me comfortable to then brutalize me in front of all these men. I nodded slowly. Matteo raised a hand, and that action alone summoned one of the men serving an appetizer.

“Fill this glass with more Contrada, and get a new glass for Marcella,” he commanded smoothly.

His staff left and returned before I had the chance to exhale. Matteo took the glasses from his staff without breaking eye contact with me. He placed the glass on the table in front of me and motioned down to the antipasto I hadn’t noticed had been placed in front of me.

Careful conversation began around the table as the men ate. They still weren’t looking at me, avoiding my side of the table entirely.

When I peeked over at Papà, he forced a tight smile. “Eat, cara.”

“How is it?” Matteo asked.

I looked up from my plate at him, but he was staring down at the pile of radish slices I had plucked out of the antipasto and set aside.

“It’s lovely, thank you.”

“You don’t have to eat what you do not like. You don’t like radishes?”

He finally looked back at me, and I shook my head.

“We will not add radishes again.”

“Okay…” I said slowly, knowing damn well I wouldn’t be accompanying Papà to this man’s home again.

He was too harsh, too critical of every movement I had yet to make. Matteo Cortese was a brutal man, and he made sure everyone knew that.

My antipasto plate was swept away, replaced with a slice of beef pinwheel and red sauce, and my wine was topped up the moment it emptied.

Matteo stood, a commanding motion that silenced the room in an instant. “I’m sure most of you are wondering why I have invited you into my home today.” He began, not waiting for a response from his men around him. “It is a rather special evening. I would like to announce my engagement to Marcella Moretti.”

My lips parted and I sucked in a shallow gasp as all but Papà applauded Matteo’s stupid words. I glanced at the men around the table, but none of them met my gaze. Not even Papà.

He wouldn’t look at me, or maybe he couldn’t. Not after he had done this.

Papà…had sold me. To Matteo Cortese.

Disgust coiled in my stomach, mixed with an emotion I’d never thought Papà would make me feel: betrayal.

The man who I was now supposed to marry guided me to stand with a warm hand that I accepted. I let him draw me forward, and I let him press a kiss to my cheeks.

What the fuck?

I was seething, poorly restrained rage boiled within me as I tried to steady my breathing. Matteo grinned down at me. He was enjoying this. What a sick bastard.

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