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Pushing his chair away from the table, he’s in front of me before I can even process a thought. His hand grips my chin, squeezing it tighter by the second. “I didn’t quite hear you, fiancée.” He tips his chin up higher, almost as if challenging me. “Speak to me like a good little girl who respects the man agreeing to marry her.”
“Yes, sir,” I say louder this time, keeping my composure.
It’s only two words, but they’re two words I never want to say again in my life.
A smirk that drips with evil stretches across his face. Leaning in, he brings his lips to my hair, inhaling before moving to my ear. “You’re learning, Briar. But not fast enough.” His hand moves to my hip, digging his fingertips into my flesh. “Don’t make me punish you for not respecting me.”
“I won’t,” I say, and he slowly releases me.
“Good. Now, go get ready.”
Turning away, I don’t even make it a step before his hand comes down on my ass, and I bite back a yelp. I don’t look back at him—or the other sets of eyes who saw the entire exchange. I just keep walking to my room. And when I make it there, I close the door and sink onto the floor, completely embarrassed and defeated.
How did I put myself in this position? And why did I ever think I was strong enough to take down people like the Romanos?
I’ve been doing this job for a while now. I’ve seen some shit. Lots of shit. Piles of shit.
Fucking mountains of shit.
Yet nothing has ever gotten me as pissed off as watching Enzo hit Briar’s ass as some sort of fucked-up warning in front of a room full of men. And seconds before that, he’d warned her about punishing her if she didn’t respect him.
Fuck. That.
I wish I could grab that motherfucker by the neck and bash his head into the table until his skull was shattered and his blood was all over the dark wood. Thoughts of it rush through my brain, making my hands ball up at my sides.
I’ve gone undercover many times. I’ve seen men treat women like shit, and, yeah, I didn’t like it. Sure, I wanted to murder them in their shoes for putting their hands on a female. But this is different. This is enough to make the veins on my neck bulge, even though I’m trying to appear unaffected. The way I’m feeling right now is why I’ve barely spoken to her since our little outing the other day. I knew the second we got in the car and headed home from sightseeing, she was looking at me differently—lighter.
Trusting.
I knew if she looked at me like that for too long, I’d be a fucking goner for her.
I had come here to do a job. And that woman has the ability to fuck everything up for me.
As much as I’d like to murder Enzo right here, in front of his own father, that wouldn’t solve anything. It’d just start a war and ruin everything so many of us have worked so long on. So, even though I want nothing more than to stand up for her, I can’t.
She’s a beautiful distraction—that’s what she is.
Once she’s out of the room and Enzo hears her door shut, he turns toward Rossi and me. “Meet me at Marino’s in an hour. And make sure you have the girl with you.”
“You got it, boss.” I nod, pushing through the anger that’s still coursing through my body from watching him slap Briar’s ass.
Maybe I’m jealous that his hand got to touch her.
No. That’s not it. I’m just being a good fucking person. I don’t care about Briar James’s perfect ass.
Not even a little.
I sit outside of the meeting, Rossi in the chair across the hall from me. I’m not sure why I’m here. After the luncheon, I got booted from the room as soon as I gulped down the last bite of whatever chocolate mousse thing the waiter had brought me.
I might be trapped here in Italy, but eating things like that makes it worthwhile.
Not really. But it helps.
I was looking forward to sitting through the meeting because I was banking on listening in on what Enzo had up his sleeve next and to find out if it had to do with my uncle. The longer I’m here, the more times he disrespects me or belittles me, the more the hunger inside of me to take down the Romanos grows, deeper and deeper, overtaking my entire being. Even the need to take down Beckett is growing with each passing second.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I think back to my childhood and realize how much things have taken a turn. Growing up, my brother and I were the poor kids. The kids who came from the wrong side of the tracks with the strung-out parents. Our clothes were worn out, and we never had things our peers had, like cell phones. When my parents were well enough to come out of their house, we’d often be stared at. People would turn their noses up at my family like we were the scum of the earth.
When I walk into a room next to Enzo, everyone stops to acknowledge him. They step out of the way to make sure they aren’t in his path.
