She was rigid as I slid it into place, the rock almost the width of her slim finger. Some deep-seated part of me practically purred at the sight of it, as though I’d tattooed my name on her damn forehead. That ring marked her as mine, and no one would fuck with what belonged to me. Not even The Outfit if they knew what was good for them.
“I’m not marrying you.” Emilia’s wide-eyed gaze met mine. “I didn’t beg you,” she whispered.
“No, but you will.” I threaded my fingers through her hair and pressed my lips into the mass of messy curls. “For the sake of appearances, though, you are mine. We are engaged, and that is how you will be introduced.”
“Won’t that seem a bit weird? I mean, why don’t you just say I’m your date or your girlfriend?”
“Because I don’t date and I don’t have girlfriends.” I gripped her hand and pulled her down the hallway, her high heels clicking over the hardwood. “There are girls I fuck, and now there is the girl I’ll marry.”
She fell into silence, and I hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was finally understanding. She would be mine, and trying to run from that was pointless.
13
Emilia
Giovanni pulled to a stop outside the opera house, where a crowd gathered on either side of a short red carpet. When he said gala, I didn’t picture quite such a spectacle, and my stomach clenched with nerves.
“Did you really bring me here just to keep an eye on me? Or did you just want to parade me around with this rock on my finger like some prize?”
His gaze swept over me, bruised knuckles brushing over my cheek so gently it was almost reverent. “I know you’re going to try to run. You will undoubtedly fail, but on the off chance you succeed, I want Sergio Donato to have no question of who you belong to and who will be coming for him should any harm befall you.”
“I…” My heart skittered, something warm and comforting settling in my chest.
Was this…what it felt like to be cared for in some way? No, he didn’t care. He was possessive of his things, that was all.
“Make no mistake, I would be forced to kill him, and that would be detrimental right now.” His thumb dragged over my bottom lip, over the bruise he’d put there. “So if you can’t behave, then you will at least smile and make the entire world believe you are mine as assuredly as I do.”
This right here was my perfect opportunity to escape, so if I had to play a part until then, I would.
“I’ve been lenient with you, piccola, but don’t test me tonight.” Giovanni Guerra was many things, but lenient was not one of them.
Beneath that immaculate tux and the gleaming smile was a savage. He got out of the car and opened my door. I took his offered hand, and he pulled me to my feet before brushing his lips over my fingers, over the ring that sat there like a tiny shackle.
We walked toward the building, the ruby like a ten-ton weight, a flashing neon light signaling my status—sold, bought, owned. Cameras flashed as we approached the front door, and I painted a smile on my face. Not like I wasn’t used to this. I’d spent my whole life in the upper echelons of Chicago’s corrupt society, pretending to be the perfect daughter of a violent man, paraded for a day when one of his fellow awful associates would want to marry me.
This was different, though. This was public. The real, law-abiding public. The reporters barked rapid-fire questions at us. Who am I? Are we engaged? How long have we been together? When is the wedding? I glanced at Giovanni for cues, but his face was set in that stoney mask. Totally unreadable. He acted as though he didn’t even hear them, like they were beneath him, irrelevant.
The skirt of my dress swished around my legs as he led me inside. The chaos seemed to die down for a moment as we moved into a lobby with a grand staircase sweeping up both sides of the space. The moment we stepped through a set of double doors, the tinkling of glasses and the low hum of chatter bombarded me. The ballroom was made up of glittering chandeliers and tables dressed with flowers. Waiters circulated trays of champagne flutes among a crowd of people in expensive dresses and suits. It was so familiar, yet not. This was not a room full of sharks. These people were small fish, and Giovanni was a great white cruising among them. Attention shifted to us, people subtly moving away because even if they couldn’t pinpoint it, they sensed the predator among them.
It didn’t stop more than one woman eyeing him like their next meal, though, right before their glares settled on me. Giovanni was beautiful and powerful; of course, they wanted him. I hated everything he represented, but on a purely lust-based level, I wanted him. And didn’t that make me worse than them all? I knew the creature that lurked beneath that pretty face. He’d taken my brother, held me captive, was still trying to manipulate me into a so-called willing marriage, and yet I couldn’t deny that I liked his touch, craved his attention. I always thought I was relatively untouched by the corruption that ruled my father’s world, but I had to ask myself if that was true because something had to be fundamentally wrong with me.