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“Slow down, you embarrass me in front of these people; there will be issues,” he whispers.
“If I have to endure more of them, there will be issues,” I mutter, and his grip on my hip turns bruising.
“Last warning,” he mutters when a feminine woman’s shriek reaches my ears, and Leone turns to them with a smile.
“Sienna, Marcel, this is my wife Fallon, Fallon this is Sienna and Marcel. Marcel is one of my business partners.” Leone introduces me to them. However, Marcel looks significantly older than Sienna, at least twenty years older, making me wonder if her marriage is forced too.
“Congratulations!” A woman, around my age clad in blue silk rushes over and beams at us. Her excitement seems genuine, but it only makes the dread coil tighter in my gut. She kisses Leone’s cheek before grabbing me and squishing my face into her fake boobs that threaten to suffocate me. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We would have thrown you a big party!” the woman shrieks.
Leone’s chuckle rumbles from his chest, smooth and untroubled. “I like to keep my private life private, you know this, Sienna. I only selected a few people to attend, as you can see,” he says, the lie rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. Her husband and Leone chat away while his grip tightens when I don’t speak with this Sienna woman who gushes excitedly about the decorations.
“Did you plan all this,” she asks me, and I nearly snort but stifle it with my glass as I take a sip and almost choke on it. Maybe I should slow down; it’s growing quite warm here.
“No, Leone had it organized. We wanted to keep everything low profile,” I add blandly when his fingers bunch my dress and pinch my skin.
My discomfort spikes when she broaches the subject of children. “So, when should we expect a little one?” she asks, her eyes alight with anticipation. That time, I nearly spit my drink all over her.
“We just got married, Sienna. Give her some time,” Leone drawls, but his eyes glint with a feral hunger that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Well, don’t wait too long; you know the biological clock and all that,” she says with a wink. Her words make heat sliver across my body, the urge to throw up becoming a genuine possibility.
“Excuse me, I must use the bathroom,” I mutter, stepping away from them both.
Leone’s hand shoots out, gripping my elbow, his grip bruising as he forces me to face him. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses into my ear when Sienna speaks.
“Of course, dear, I’ll be right here when you return. We girls must stick together; as you can tell, there aren’t many of us,” Sienna says, glancing around. “They tend to only keep the broodmares,” she mutters. Her husband cuts her a glare, and she feigns innocence. Yet now I see what she means, like me she is also bought, or arranged, something along those lines. It does explain why she is the first woman I’ve noticed here besides the staff. I plaster a fake smile on my face, and Leone is forced to let me go when her husband starts chatting about some shipment that is supposed to dock next week.
His distraction becomes my chance to flee, my vision narrowing as I navigate the halls of Leone’s mansion, not knowing where to find a bathroom. Finally, I find one near the kitchens. Locking the door, I collapse in front of the toilet, retching until there’s nothing left.
TWENTY
FALLON
All the talk of babies is far too much. Yes, he mentioned needing my womb but the realness of it all becomes overwhelming. If he makes good on his word and plants his seed within me, it will certainly kill any hope of me escaping.
I rinse out my mouth, gripping the sink as if it’s the only thing keeping me upright. The reflection that stares back at me is a stranger—pale, haunted, and on the verge of shattering. I’m gasping for air, the world spinning out of control, when the door bursts open.
“I found her. Bathroom by the living room,” a voice announces into some handset. The intrusion is a sobering slap—I’m never truly alone, always watched. Cursing under my breath, I wash my hands and check my makeup.
Before I can step out, Leone is there, shoving me back inside the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him. His fury is a palpable force, and I brace myself for the storm to come.
The sharp sting of his words slice through the tense air between us. “You dare to embarrass me.” His voice is a low growl, the sound of danger that I’ve come to associate with him in these short hours since we’ve been declared husband and wife.
I walked off, needing to breathe, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the wedding reception. But Leone would rather me puke on Sienna or in front of everyone than leave his side for a few minutes.
“Need I remind you that you agreed to this, and if you keep going, this will be the shortest marriage in history, don’t fucking push me,” he snaps at me.
“What do you mean?” My voice quivers slightly, not from fear—though perhaps there should be some—but from anger. How dare he speak to me like I’m nothing but an accessory to his power?
In response, he closes the distance between us with a few measured steps. His body is a wall of muscle as he traps me against the cool surface behind me. The cold marble of the wall at my back contrasts sharply with the heat emanating from his towering frame. His hand finds the soft fabric of my dress, bunching it near my stomach, making it clear that he holds all control over me.
“It Means,” he begins, his face inches from mine, his breath laced with the scent of expensive whiskey. “Once you’ve served your purpose, there’s no use for you.” The steel in his eyes tells me he’s not merely posturing. “So either you act as my wife, or I’ll treat you like a whore and get rid of you once I’m done.”
I can barely process the words. They’re ice, a death sentence dressed as a future.
His admission is vile, the reality of this marriage crashing down on me. Unless I play the role he demands, I am to be used, then discarded.
“You would kill the mother of your child?” My voice quivers with disbelief. I search his face for a hint of humanity, some sign that he recognizes the gravity of his cold words.
