Ruthless Monarch

He moves a step toward me.

Two pieces on a chessboard.

His height makes me feel small in comparison. He must be six foot two or maybe even six foot three. I’m short, less than average standing at five foot two, but compared to him, I’m tiny.

“You are the key to Salvatore getting what he wants.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Port access.”

My eyebrow raises, and I place my hand on my hip, not really understanding or believing my whole future has to do with docking his boat. It seems a dumb reason to marry someone.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Matteo’s one-word answer makes me dig my nails into the fleshy part of my palm. This is my life we are talking about. I deserve more than that.

“What you are telling me is that according to my father and your cousin, I’m being bartered to dock a boat?” My teeth clench.

A large exhale leaves his mouth, and I can tell he is already done with this conversation. He looks bored with me. The sentiment is mutual. I want him to leave too.

“It’s not about one boat.”

“Then what more can it be? Why else do you need port access? Why else is my father attempting to pawn me off for port access?”

“Drugs.”

His blunt answer is shocking. Most would tiptoe around these things, but then again, Matteo Amante isn’t like most men.

The room is silent. You could hear the sound of a pin drop if I were inclined to drop it.

The only noise penetrating the space between us comes from beyond the window where the occasional horn can be heard. This time, I’m pissed. I step forward, getting closer to him. I stand tall, steeling my spine.

“Seriously, did you basically tell me my only worth to you is so you can import drugs?”

He shrugs at my attack. I’m like a little gnat he’s shooing away. “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

“Doubtful,” I mumble back under my breath.

He laughs. But it’s not a funny laugh. It’s a laugh that makes my stomach tighten.

Evil and sinister.

His hand reaches out and tucks the piece of hair behind my ears. “You’re so innocent, dear Viviana. Like a princess locked in a tower, never to have seen the real world for what it is.”

“Hardly. You don’t know me. You might think you do, but you know nothing of what I have seen.”

“Not a whole lot if you think that’s the worst it can be. Let me tell you something . . . Princess.” He smiles as he tests the nickname on his tongue. “Many things are much worse than drugs.”

He waits for me to ask, but I feel like the other shoe is about to drop, and I can’t bring myself to say anything else.

There is a pregnant pause. One I fear will change everything when it ends.

“Salvatore might sell drugs, but that’s not why he’s desperate for access. He wants the port so he can bring in women.”

It feels like my heart is about to explode. “Women as in . . .?”

“Yes. My cousin traffics women. Or at least that’s the plan once he can convince your father of the alliance.”

Fight or flight kicks in. The need to run out of my apartment and toward safety floods my system, but I can’t. There is no safe place in my life. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere my father won’t find me, so instead, I remain where I am. This is the better option. I can turn a blind eye to drugs, people choose if they want to buy them, but women, that is not something I can ever move past.

What kind of a monster could? Wait . . .

“Are you saying my father knows this? That can’t be possible.”

“Not only is it possible but it is exactly what is happening. My cousin has made allies with some very powerful people. Your father is hoping to leverage Salvatore’s connections to get him a ticket into the White House. But your father isn’t a stupid man. He knows my cousin will sell him out the first chance he gets . . . That’s where you come in.”

“And how exactly does marrying me off help him?”

“Then you become family. He helps your father make the connections he needs, and in return, your father will help my cousin. Having you as Salvatore’s wife will help him obtain the goal.”

“I can’t believe my father would knowingly allow that to happen to the girls.”

“Then you don’t know your father very well, luckily for you. Men will do a lot of ugly things to maintain power. I assure you.”

His words are no longer talking about his cousin. He’s talking about our marriage. I am a power piece for him too.

“Now let’s go.”

He starts to walk toward the door.

“I’m not ready,” I say to his back. He looks over his shoulder, his green eyes piercing.