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His tone brims with anger, and it has me glancing at the door.
Suddenly, he lets out an incredulous-sounding chuckle. “You’re not even going to apologize?”
Pride has me lifting my chin, and I force myself to lock eyes with the man I’m going to marry. If I don’t stand my ground today, he’ll make my life a living hell.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, my voice sounding much stronger than I feel.
When Stefano starts to undo his belt, a wave of terror-filled pins and needles coats my skin.
Dio.
“You can’t take my virginity until we’re married,” I say as if the words will stop him.
Stefano’s mouth lifts in a smirk. “You already belong to me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Mr. Falco hasn’t given his permission.”
“I don’t plan on fucking you right now. First, I’m going to give you the beating of your life so you don’t dare embarrass me again,” he growls. “I’ll have your virginity for dessert after dinner.”
The leather wooshes through the loops of his pants, and not thinking twice, I run for the door. I manage to yank it open just as the belt lashes over my shoulder and neck. The sting is intense, making me fall into the hallway.
I scramble to my feet, but I can’t get away before Stefano grabs hold of my hair.
I should’ve shaved it all off.
My head’s yanked back, and as his breath hits my ear, he says, “You better be the best fuck of my life tonight for all the trouble you’re causing.”
Strands are ripped from my skull as I’m pulled back, then thunder cracks through the air as Damiano snaps, “Enough!”
Stefano shoves me into the bedroom, then I hear him say, “I apologize for disturbing you, cousin. I’m dealing with the problem.”
“The problem can wait,” Damiano mutters. “Everyone back in the living room. Now!”
My entire body is trembling, but somehow, I manage to adjust my dress around my thighs and pat my hair into a neat style. My scalp stings from where I lost a chunk of hair.
After composing myself as best I can, I walk right by Stefano and follow Damiano to the living room. I struggle to keep my eyes from darting over the black fabric of Damiano’s dress shirt that stretches tightly over his muscled back.
Entering the living room, I find safety behind an armchair, and in less than a minute, my family and Stefano stare at Damiano with bated breaths.
“I’ve made my decision,” the Capo dei Capi mutters.
My breath stalls in my throat, and my heart sinks.
“Do you give your blessing, cousin?” Stefano asks.
Damiano’s eyes lock with mine, and once again, they narrow as he stares at me.
I lift my chin and clench my jaw as I hold the gaze of the man who’s killed people for the mere pleasure of feeling their blood seep through his fingers – the man who is about to condemn me to a life of hell.
His lips part, and a second later, a single word breaks the tense silence.
“No.”
“What?” Mother gasps.
“Cousin?” Stefano says, the word filled with confusion.
“Mr. Falco?” I hear my father ask.
