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“You shocked him, that is all,” he answers, his gaze holding mine for a second.
“It’s not that strange that I’m still a virgin,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Milo says, lightly touching my elbow and guiding me toward the looming mansion.
“Inside, where I’ll be paraded around like some trophy?” I sneer, anger and helplessness warring within me.
“Where you’ll be safe,” Milo corrects me, but his assurance rings hollow.
“Safe or trapped?” I retort, but I move forward, propelled by the relentless pull of my circumstances, plus it’s freaking cold outside.
“Both,” he admits quietly, almost sympathetically. “Strange or not, it changes things,” Milo says, breaking the silence with a voice that ripples with a dangerous undercurrent as we climb the steps.
“How does it change things?” I demand, needing to understand the rules of this twisted game I’m entrapped in.
“Because now, there’s something more to take,” he murmurs.
“Something to take?” I echo, my pulse quickening as I realize what he means. My innocence is yet another commodity in their hands—a prize to be claimed.
“Exactly,” Milo confirms, and I catch the glint of something predatory in his glance.
My skin prickles with the awareness of my situation. I am not just caught between two men but ensnared in their web of control and power plays. Yet Milo almost seems excited at breaking me in.
“Does that excite you?” I blurt out, the question slipping from my lips before I can stop it. A part of me doesn’t want to know the answer, but another, darker part craves the truth.
“Excitement isn’t the word I’d use,” he replies with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. There’s a promise in his voice, one that speaks of unspoken desires and forbidden pleasures. “There’s a certain... anticipation.”
“Anticipation for what?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to hear the details of his thoughts.
“Making you ours, morphing you into what we want you to be for us,” he answers cryptically.
Great, now I’m upgraded from wife to sex doll. Lucky me, not!
NINETEEN
FALLON
I hardly slept a wink last night, dreading what would unfold today. The sheer white curtains flutter as I peer down at the garden below, where men in black suits scurry to align rows of chairs with military precision. My heart hammers against my rib cage, knowing what I’m about to do. Part of me feels like having an actual wedding is to taunt me. If he wants me to be his, why didn’t Leone just force me to sign a piece of paper?
“Stay still,” Milo commands softly, his fingers deftly working the tiny buttons up the back of my dress. The silk clings to my skin like it’s trying to suffocate me. I don’t dare move, not when the slightest twitch could be mistaken for defiance, and I know too well the consequences of crossing Leone, and I’d hate to know what the consequences of ruining today would be.
“Are you just going to mope all day?” Milo asks. I glance at him over my shoulder, letting the curtain fall closed.
“Weddings are supposed to be happy and exciting, especially for Italians,” he adds. I try not to laugh at his words. This is far from the typical wedding.
“I’m not Italian. This is no wedding… more like my funeral,” I mutter.
Milo steps back, and I glimpse his face in the mirror—calm, collected, unreadable as his eyes assess me. My father enters then; the sight of him in the suit Leone had ready for him twists my insides. It’s a mockery, a costume meant to show who holds the power and who dictates our fates. Milo glances at my father before nodding to say he can enter.
“Firefly...” My father’s voice breaks, his voice as heavy as this dress I wear. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, sadness in his eyes. He doesn’t want this for me, just as much as I don’t want this for myself. I see another thing flash across his face… shame? Shame that he couldn’t protect his little girl from such a fate.
I can tell my father wants to say something, but Milo doesn’t leave the room, so instead, we chat about the mundane until finally Milo announces.
“It’s time. Let’s not keep them waiting,” Milo says from the chaise in the corner as he stands.
My father takes my arm as Milo speaks to one of the guards on the stairs briefly before turning to me. “Don’t fuck this up, I need to get down there but don’t think of running, you won’t make it off this property, and angering Leone right now isn’t an option,” Milo tells me.
My father stiffens at my side when Milo leans forward, pecking my lips. I fight the urge to pull away, knowing my father is watching. Milo descends the staircase, assuming his place as best man as if any of this honors the title.
