Page 9 of Cruel Heir

James, as it turns out, is the white-haired man who I guessed was the household manager. He opens the door a moment after I hear the key turn in the lock, and looks at me expectantly. “Come along,” hesays in that bored, almost imperious tone that he used with me before, and I frown at him. For a moment, I have the urge to tell him that he needs to speak to me with more respect, but then it strikes me that I don’t know if that’strue. I have no idea what kind of respect I’ll command in this household, when the man who intends to marry me has started off our union by kidnapping me and bringing me here in the dead of night.

The house is quiet when I reach the end of the staircase just behind James, the skirt of my dress clenched in my hands. There are no guests that I can see, no trappings of a wedding beyond what I’ve been dressed in. I’m led to one of the closed doors on the main floor, and James knocks on it, waiting until he hears a voice from inside tell him to come in.

I recognize the voice of the blond man from the garden, and a chill runs down my spine. My hands start to shake again, fingers curling into the fabric of my dress, and for a moment, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk through the door. I don’t think I can do this.

I also know I don’t have a choice.

When the door opens, I see what looks like a study inside—not unlike the room my father has at our home for him to unwind in or hold private meetings at night. There’s a large stone fireplace that’s lit, a heavy wooden desk near a large curtained window, and a tall bookshelf to one side of the room. The floor is dark wood, mostly covered with an intricately woven tasseled rug. As I hesitantly step forward, I see two men standing by the fireplace. One is the blond man, changed into a finer-looking suit than the one he was wearing in the garden, his hair styled smoothly back away from his now smoothly clean-shaven face. When he looks at me, his dark blue gaze lit by the fire, I see the glint of possessiveness there, the light of satisfaction in his eyes. It terrifies me, making me stop dead only a few inches into the room.

The other man, I see, is wearing a priest’s cassock, his expression grave. He says nothing as the blond man steps towards me, and I suck in a breath, taking a step sharply backward as if there were anywhere I could run to.

“Where are you going, Lucia?” A predatory smile curves the blond man’s full lips. “Surely you’ve figured out by now that there isn’t any escaping this. And why would you want to, after all? You’ve seen just a taste of what I’m willing to give you.” He gestures at the wedding dress, the veil pinned to my hair. “I did this all for you,principessa, to make certain you had the perfect night.”

A spark of anger ignites in my chest, mingling with the fear and giving me just enough courage to answer back. “You did this foryou,” I hiss. “To try to give this mockery of a wedding some kind of hint of respectability.” I press my lips tightly together to try to hide their trembling, staring at him. “This has nothing to do with my comfort or happiness. If it did, you would never have taken me away at all.”

“Well, either way.” He shrugs, that smirk spreading across his lips. “It sounded nice, didn’t it?”

I swallow hard, taking another step back, away from him, and towards the door. “What’s your name?” I demand, still doing my best to hold his gaze. “You can’t—you can’t justtakeme away from my home and marry me if I don’t even know your name!” Strictly speaking, I know that’s not true, but it’s all I have. It’s all I can think of to try to fight back against this.

He chuckles, a low, dark sound deep in his throat. “Andre Leone,” he says smoothly, as easily as if he were just waiting for the moment he chose to tell me. “Andyou, Lucia Fontana, are going to be my wife. If you haven’t figured that out already, of course.” He adds that last with another laugh, as if he’s made a particularly good joke. As if any of this could possibly be funny.

Andre Leone.Fear ripples through me, because I know that name. Not very well, not well enough to know everything about him, but I learned how to listen well enough growing up in my father’s house to get bits and pieces of information about what’s happening in the world outside those four walls. For instance, I know that two years ago, he brought a man by that name to one of his estates, keeping him there until he could decide what to do with him. I know that the Leone family did something to anger my father, though I don’t know what. It’s not much to go off of, but it’s enough to piece together thattonight is somehow his attempt at recompense for what happened to his family. That he’s using me as a means to get back at my father for something.

I remember his hand on my throat in the garden, the look in his eyes when I thought he might kill me, and the terror is so all-consuming that I can’t think rationally about what to do any longer.

“No!” I shake my head, backing up rapidly towards the door, the only thought in my head torun. “I won’t marry you! I’m not going to let you—no,no—” I turn towards the door, grabbing for the knob, praying that it won’t be locked again. It’s not, but I only get the door partway open before I feel Andre’s hand grip my elbow, dragging me backward, away from it and into his arms as I shriek and squirm. His arms go around me, trapping mine at my sides, one of his hands pressing between my shoulder blades as the other winds into my hair, holding me in place so he can whisper into my ear. I realize, to my horror, as he holds me close, that he’shard. I can feel him pressing against my thigh through the layers of clothing, and I know that my fear is exciting him. The chase and capture are turning him on—all of this is fulfilling a fantasy, and I’m playing right into it.

“You can’t leave,” he breathes into my ear, his fingers sliding through my carefully arranged curls. “You’re going to be my wife, Lucia, and you’re going to have my child. There’s no escape. You’re the first step in my revenge, and nothing is going to take that away from me.”

He loosens his grip, turning me towards the priest, and I look at the man in terror. “Please,” I gasp out, wide-eyed and begging. “You have to stop this. You can’t let this happen.Please, please help me—”

I see, for a moment, a flash of sympathy in the priest’s face. I can’t imagine that he has no qualms with this, that there’s no part of him that knows this is wrong. But he shakes his head, ever so slightly, and I feel the crushing weight of hopelessness sink down on me as I realize that there is no escape.

No one is going to help me. No one is going to save me.

“We’ll keep this brief.” The priest looks between the two of us as Andre leads me to stand in front of him, his grip on my hand tight asa vise. “Do you, Andre Marco Leone, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Andre nods sharply. “I do.”

The priest looks at me, his expression unreadable. “And do you, Lucia Elysia Fontana, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

What happens if I say no?I look between Andre and the priest, wanting to laugh at it all, to point out the lack of any meaningful vows, to protest. Andre’s grip on my fingers tightens, and I know that, somehow, he’ll force my agreement. I don’t know how—but I feel sure that I don’t want to find out.

“This won’t hold up,” I nearly spit at him, fear and anger warring for supremacy as I struggle to keep some small hold on my emotions. If I fall apart now, I don’t know how I’ll make it through the night. “This can’t be legal. A forced marriage, without witnesses—”

“It will once it’s been consummated.” Andre smiles coldly at me. “Once you’re no longer a virgin, you’re worthless to your family, dear Lucia. With the contract signed, the blessing of the good Father here, and your virgin blood on our sheets, there will be no arguing with the sanctity of our marriage. Wife.”

He says the last word with a lascivious sneer that makes me shudder. I flush red at the mention of consummation in front of the priest, but he barely seems to notice, waiting patiently as Andre and I face off. Andre’s hand on mine tightens even more, the small bones in my hand rubbing together, and I let out a whimper of pain.

“I can make this far worse for you,principessa,” Andre murmurs. “And not even the good man of God here will stop me if I’m forced to use other means to extract this vow from you. Would you like me to punish you, perhaps, in front of him? I’m sure a good spanking would teach you your proper place as my bride.”

I’m not well-versed in reading others—I’ve never had to be. But there’s no doubt that he means it. My hand aches as if he might snap the bones from the pressure of his grip, and I feel certain that he’ll hurt me more, if he has to. That he would humiliate me in front of the priest, if need be.

I won’t escape like this. Not by refusing to say the words.

“I do,” I choke out, and the painful pressure on my hand lessens.

The priest looks relieved at my acquiescence. “Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.” He steps to one side, sliding a document out of the leather folio he was holding and setting it on the desk. “And then I will need you both to sign this.”

---