Ruthless Monarch

It’s already hard enough to try to come up with a plan. Giana seems like a good ally. But I can’t be sure. For all I know, this is all part of the act.

Maybe Matteo has sent her in as the spy. A babysitter to report back to him. It’s okay. Better to keep my guard up. I’m used to it. I have lived the past twelve years protecting myself.

What’s another few?

The one thing I do know is I have to find a way to escape, not just from my father now.

The list keeps getting longer and longer.

If I could die of a heart attack, I probably would.

Holy crap.

What the hell am I going to do if he expects me to consummate this marriage?

Die.

I’ll probably die. Because with everything going on, and the fact he very well may be the biggest asshole in the world, there is no way I’m going to have sex with him, and I will kill him if he tries.

My head is swimming at ways out of this situation.

It feels like I’m being walked to my death via the guillotine. French Revolution-style. I’m in the right type of palace for it. If I wasn’t so scared right now, I might find my inner crazy funny. Hell, I’d probably roll my eyes at myself, but I am scared, and no ridiculous thoughts of the corrupt royals getting their heads chopped off will make me feel any better.

Even if that is exactly who I married.

A ruthless monarch.

A king of death.

A handsome devil who will probably kill me in the end.

The blood rushing in my ears is so loud, I wonder if he can hear. My heart thumps frantically. With each step I take, I try to act like I’m not scared.

No part of me likes to show weakness. Throughout my life, I have tried to master my emotions, but Matteo brings out the worst in me. I barely know him, and I can already tell.

All of these feelings are usually schooled, especially fear, but now they run rampant.

Like a runaway train with no brakes.

It’s only a matter of time until I crash and burn.

Stop. I can do this. There is no other choice. I’ll do what must be done to survive. My spine turns to steel, and I follow him.

Together, we walk up a grand staircase, down a long hallway, and to a destination I can only imagine will be his bedroom. Or maybe a torture chamber.

It’s dark, there are no lights on, it could be because it’s an older estate, or maybe that’s on purpose. Maybe the staff was instructed to leave it dark to creep me out and scare me into being pliable. Knowing Matteo, this wouldn’t surprise me.

It’s like one of the estates that belongs on a Regency TV show.

And thinking of my life, apparently I belong on the show, too.

Other than myself . . . do marriages of convenience actually happen? I want to laugh at how crazy my life has become.

I’m so lost in my ridiculous train of thought that I don’t even notice when he stops. My body collides with his. My front hitting his back.

Quickly, I move back, putting distance between us. Please don’t turn around. Please don’t make me feel like a bigger idiot.

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he swings open the door.

The room, like the hall, is pitch-black. My stomach tightens, but then he does something I don’t expect. He turns back around, steps around me, and begins to walk away.

“You’re not—” I start and stop myself.

What the hell am I doing?

Shut up, Viviana.

He looks over his shoulder, and even in the dimly lit hallway, I can see that damn smirk that I swear he only uses on me, spreading across his face.

“Coming . . .?” His voice is low, purposeful, and most of all, seductive. My eyes must widen because he laughs at me, it’s more like a fucking chuckle, but it still makes me feel small.

Don’t let anyone make you feel this way. I stand taller and wait for the ridicule, something that, after living with my father most of my life, I’m prepared for.

Nothing comes out of his mouth, despite me expecting him to say more. Instead, he completely ignores me, looking back in the opposite direction, and resumes walking, leaving me there standing in the hallway like an idiot.

I watch as his shadow fades, and it’s only then that the breath I am holding escapes.

That was close. Too close.

Then another feeling hits me. One I really don’t want to read into . . . disappointment.

It’s not that I wanted to be with him tonight, but he didn’t even want to be with me. For some reason, even though I know I’m his pawn, a part of me liked the idea that maybe a man as dangerous and sexy as Matteo wanted me . . .