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He said no.
Air bursts from my lungs, and the relief is so intense I have to place my hand over my heart to keep it from beating out of my chest.
I won’t be forced to marry Stefano.
He won’t get to take my virginity.
My eyes drift shut from the overwhelming happiness coursing through my body, making me feel faint.
When I hear movement, my eyes snap open, and I watch as Damiano pours himself a drink.
I almost thank him for not giving his blessing, but something tells me to keep quiet.
Damiano glances at his guard. “Get the men to pack Gabriella’s belongings. We’re leaving.”
“On it,” the guard answers before he stalks away to carry out the order.
What?
Mother gasps, and my father’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
Stefano is the first to recover, and shaking his head, he dares to ask, “What are you doing?”
Damiano downs the bourbon before shoving the glass into Stefano’s hand. Without a single word of explanation, he walks out of the living room.
Everyone stands frozen for a moment before life returns with one hell of a bang.
Mother rushes to me, a smile spreading over her face. “I can’t believe the Capo dei Capi has taken an interest in you.”
What?
It’s the only question that keeps playing on an endless loop in my frazzled mind.
“Holy shit,” Santo breathes, shaking his head in disbelief.
Looking confused, my father asks, “Mr. Falco is taking Gabriella?”
“Damiano!” Stefano shouts, going after his cousin. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Mother once again grabs my wrist, and I’m dragged out of the living room. As we rush through the foyer and up the stairs, I hear Damiano’s voice rumble like fire and brimstone as he says, “I’m taking the woman. It’s not open for discussion. Find someone else to marry.”
Holy crap.
Damiano is a million times worse than Stefano. There’s no telling what he’ll do to me.
Before I can hear more of the conversation between Damiano and Stefano, I’m pulled into my bedroom, and seconds later, five men come into my private space and roughly start throwing my belongings into bags.
I can’t think a single coherent thought as Mother thrusts an outfit into my hands before shoving me into the bathroom.
“Get changed. Hurry,” she orders before yanking the door shut.
I hear my bedroom being torn apart while I stare at the doorknob.
This isn’t happening.
“Hurry, Gabriella, or I’ll come in and dress you myself,” Mother threatens.
In a stunned daze, I start to undress and quickly put on the light pink pantsuit. The pants are three-quarter in length and look good with the black five-inch heels.
