I thought for sure I was dead.
But instead, I discovered there’s a fate worse than death.
Marriage.
What I don’t understand yet is why.
“You think this will keep me from testifying against you?” I ask, trying to figure it out. The shock is fading now, and I’m trying to think ahead. “Some loophole that means if we’re married, they can’t force me to turn?”
“You always were a smart one.” Nero replies bitterly. He gulps more champagne. “It’s a little thing called ‘spousal privilege’. My lawyers told me about it. They can’t compel you to turn against me, due to the sanctity of our bond,” he adds, mocking.
I exhale. So, he chose this as a way to keep me under his thumb.
“Why not just kill me?” I ask. “Wouldn’t that have saved you the trouble?”
“Now, where would the fun be in that?”
Nero gives me a chilling smile, and I feel a pang. Only days ago, I thought there might be a chance for us. A way for us to be together despite all this mess.
But that was just the lust talking. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I think fast. “What about Teddy?” I ask, panicking at the thought of my younger brother. He’s the reason I struck the deal in the first place, to protect him. He’s safely off at college right now, oblivious to everything that’s been going on.
And I plan to keep it that way.
“What about him?” Nero asks. He didn’t bother to wear a suit for our sham of a wedding; he’s still in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, with three-day stubble on his jaw.
Dangerous. Sexy as hell.
“You can’t go after him.”
Nero meets my eyes. “You’re in no position to give me orders, wife.”
I shiver. How many times did I used to imagine that word on his lips? Now, it sounds like a curse.
“Please,” the word sticks in my throat, but I force it out. “You have what you want. You won. I’m tied to you now, if you go down, so will I. Spare Teddy, keep him out of this. Please.”
“What I want…?” Nero echoes, a strange expression flashing across his face. He grabs my wrist, gripping it painfully. “You think being married to you like this is what I want?!”
I recoil at the anger in his eyes. He loathes me, it’s clear.
Being joined in matrimony is just as much a hell for him as it is me.
“Then why?” I demand, frustration rising. “Why put us both through this if you can’t stand to be around me?”
“Because I had to,” he grinds out. “To protect—”
“The Barretti empire,” I finish, scornful. “Of course. It always comes first to you.”
Nero wrenches his hand away.
“Stop on Perry Street,” he orders his driver, and turns away. The ride passes in silence, until we pull up on a quiet, leafy street in the West Village.
“Get out.” He orders me.
I do as he says, looking around. We’re parked in front of an elegant brick-faced townhouse. Three stories tall, it has arched windows and a tree bed built into the sidewalk. There’s a Dogwood growing there with beautiful white flowers.
“Where are we?” I ask, confused. I assumed I’d be back on lockdown at his loft, a prisoner again.