Page 19 of Cruel Heir

And to me.She doesn’t say it, but I can hear it underlying herwords. If Celeste were to get a message through for me and Andre found out, it wouldn’t be just me that he punishes. He might not even punish me physically—hurting someone else for the favor I asked would be punishment enough. It’s the sort of twisted thing that I can imagine him doing. By pushing the matter, I’m putting Celeste in unthinkable danger.

But I’m desperate. I never imagined what it would be like to feel this kind of desperation. I never even had reason to consider it. I look at Celeste, and I can feel myself trying to think of what it would take to convince her. What would be worth it to her.

“I could talk my father into letting me bring you with me, once he gets me out of here,” I whisper, twisting my hands together in my lap. “I wouldn’t say he’s akindman, but he’s not like—like—”

Celeste presses her lips together. “I know Andre is hurting you,” she says slowly. “He married you—it’s obvious what he must be making you do. But I don’t think you understand how much worse it could be—”

“He’s making melikeit.” The words burst out of me, my cheeks flushing, but I need her to understand. I meet her gaze as my eyes fill with tears, thinking of this morning, of the way anyone within earshot of the dining room would have heard my whimpers and moans. “He’s making mewantit. How could it be worse?”

“You have no idea,” Celeste murmurs. But I can see the wheels spinning behind her eyes, that she’s trying to think of something. “If you really think your father will help—”

I grab on to the small hint that she might be willing to help, clinging to it with both hands. “Yes! Yes, I’m sure he would. He’d do anything to get me back.”

“You’re certain.” She looks at me cautiously. “I don’t mean to be cruel, miss—Lucia. But you’re not—”

“I know.” I bite my lip, trying to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling over. “I know I won’t have the same—value. But he wouldn’t abandon me. I can’t believe that he would. Especially not to Andre.” If nothing else, I have to cling to that—that even if my father might work something out with some other man who might have taken melike this, his history with Andre will prevent that from happening here. That the insult will be too much for him to let it stand.

Slowly, Celeste nods. “Alright,” she says reluctantly. “Don’t write anything out; I can’t get that to him. But I know someone who works at one of the estates near your father’s. I can try to call them and ask them to relay a message. I can’t promise that they will. But your father is known to be powerful enough that they might like the idea of him being in their debt. And they have no reason to fear Andre.” She lets out a breath, and I can see that she’s afraid. “I’ll try,” she repeats, and I nod.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I have some idea.” Celeste gives me a small, shaky smile. “Let’s not talk about it again. Just to be safe.” She balls the dress up in her hands, nodding to the door. “Go explore the mansion a bit. Give Andre a reason to think you’re trying to settle in. But don’t betoopliable, either, or he’ll suspect you. Just—act the way you have been. Like you’re frightened and angry with him.”

“That won’t be hard,” I say wryly, and it earns me a small smile from Celeste.

“I’ll do my best,” she repeats. “Just make sure you’re dressed nicely and downstairs at eight for dinner with Don Leone. He’ll expect you then.”

She slips out of the room then, leaving me sitting on the bed. I don’t move for a long moment, afraid to hope that this might actually work. That Celeste might be able to help me.

After a little while, I manage to get myself to get up and explore. The mansion itself is nearly as grand as my own home—especially the first floor. I find a library on the third floor further down the hall, and the second seems to be primarily comprised of guest bedrooms and a large sitting room overlooking the estate grounds. But the first is sprawling and expansive, made up of the formal dining room and a smaller one, the same for two living rooms, the study where Andre married me, and more. There is a wooden-floored room with mirrored walls, yoga mats rolled up in one corner, a barre along one wall, and an adjoining room with huge windows that are fullyoutfitted as a gym. When I walk out to the large sunroom at the very back of the mansion, I see the huge gardens sprawling beyond it, the greenhouse at one side, and the rolling hills of the estate beyond that. There’s a pool as well, though it’s been drained and covered for the season, and an in-ground stone hot tub. There’s every luxury that I could imagine, and as I wander through the house, I see a number of staff members, all of whom ask me if there’s anything I need. It’s clear that Andre has, at least, not given instructions that I be treated as anything less than the wife of a self-styled don.

A part of me wants to try to defy him about dinner, to refuse to come down. But I remember what Celeste said—to try not to anger him, to play along at least a little for now—and I change for dinner into a pair of slim black pants and a soft green sweater, noticing just before I turn to leave that there are two boxes on my vanity that weren’t there before. When I open them, I find a diamond bracelet—a rose gold bangle with small diamonds embedded in it—and a pair of diamond studs set in rose gold.

They’re from Andre, there’s no doubt about that. Another tactic, like his sometimes gentle touches, like the kisses this morning, like his insistence that I enjoy it when he fucks me. A way to make me feel as if I’m insane for not wanting this, for being angry that he’s kidnapped me and forced me into a marriage that my father would never have agreed to. I want to leave them where they are, to pretend as if I never received them, but I know he expects me to wear them tonight. If I don’t, he’ll be angry.

I can almost hear Celeste’s voice in my head telling me to pick my battles, while I wait for someone to help me. So I slip the jewelry on, running my fingers through my hair as I pin the front of it back, and go downstairs to dinner.

Andre is already sitting at the head of the table, the chandelier glowing above it, the large windows looking out on the dimly lit gardens. He has a glass of wine already poured and sitting next to his plate, and he looks up as I walk in. My face instantly heats, remembering this morning and what we did, and from the small smirk at the corners of his mouth, I can tell that he knows what I’m thinking.

“I see you liked my presents,” he says casually as I sit down, glancing over at me. “They suit you. I should make sure you have jewels to wear every single day.”

“I knew you’d be angry if I didn’t wear them.” I look at him as coolly as I can manage, trying not to show how very afraid I am. “That’s not the same as liking something.”

His smirk widens. “Should I bring you over here for a repeat of this morning, then? You liked that. Don’t try and tell me that you didn’t—any number of the staff could probably attest otherwise.”

He knows exactly what to say to cut straight to the bone. I feel myself stiffen in my seat, looking down at my empty plate, unable to look at him.

“Relax, Lucia.” Andre chuckles. “I’m not going to fuck you at the dinner table every day. Only on special occasions.” He winks at me, that smirk still curving one half of his mouth, and I can’t help but glare at him.

The first course is brought in before I can say anything—Caesar salad—and set down in front of us. There’s no wine for me, only a glass of water, and I stop the maid who sets down the bowls.

“I’d like a glass of wine as well,” I tell her, but Andre shakes his head.

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly, and I turn to look at him, my eyes narrowing.

“So I’m old enough to kidnap and forcibly marry, but not old enough to have a glass of wine with dinner?”

He laughs darkly. “Don’t make a scene in front of the staff,principessa. It has nothing to do with your age, and everything to do with the fact that we’re trying very hard for a baby.” He smiles. “After all, it takes a little while to know, doesn’t it? You could be drinking wine for weeks and already be pregnant. Better safe than sorry.” Andre motions at the maid, flicking his hand to dismiss her. “No wine for my wife. Or any other alcohol.”

---