Page 24 of Forgotten Vows

"It's not—" But I can't finish the sentence. Maybe she's right, maybe I am just trying to control her the way Gio did… the way her father did. Maybe I'm no better than any of them.

No.

No, that's not true. I love her. I've always loved her. Everything I'm doing is to keep her safe and give her the life she should have had, to make up for the ten years I wasn't there.

"The priest will be waiting downstairs by now." I know it's the wrong thing to say even as the words leave my mouth, that I'm pushing too hard, moving too fast, but this needs to be done. "We can do this now, tonight, and then you'll be protected. Then no one cantake you away from me except by force, and I fucking dare Gio Santoro to try."

Her eyes are wide and shocked. "I don't want to marry you." Each word is deliberate. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

Nothing could have prepared me for the pain of hearing Adriana say she doesn't want to marry me. The words wash away the echoes in my mind of all the sweet words and promises we made to each other years ago, and all I can hear is her terrible rejection ringing in my ears.

"You know me." I take another step toward her, and she takes another step back. "I'm the same person I've always been. I'm the man who loves you. I'm the man who came back for you."

"You're a stranger." Her voice breaks. "You're a violent, dangerous stranger who broke into my home and kidnapped me and my son, and now you want me to marry you like that's somehow romantic. Like that's somehow proof of your love."

My jaw clenches. "I killed for you. I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"It means you're dangerous." She's pressed against the wall now with nowhere left to go, and I realize I've been backing her into a corner without meaning to. Every instinct I have to get closer to her is making her more terrified. "It means I should be afraid of you."

"You shouldn't be afraid of me." I stop moving, holding my hands up in what I hope is a placating gesture. "I would never hurt you, Adriana. Never."

"You're hurting me right now." The words are barely a whisper. "You're hurting me by keeping me here, by keeping me from my son and trying to force me into a marriage I don't want."

"I'm not forcing—" But I am, aren't I? I'm not giving her a choice. I'm not asking what she wants. I'm just taking, the way I've learned to take everything I want over the last ten years. You have to take things in this world if you want to survive.

Except she's not a territory to be claimed or a business to be acquired. She's the woman I love.

And I'm losing her.

"I want to see Matteo," she says again. Her voice is steadier now, like she's found some core of strength to draw on. "Right now. Or I'm not doing anything you ask."

"He's sleeping?—"

"I don't care." Her eyes meet mine, and there's determination in them that wasn't there before. "I want to see my son. I want to know he's safe. And then maybe—maybe—we can talk about whatever insane plan you have."

It's not insane. It's practical. It's the only way I can think of to keep her as safe as possible—to bind her to me legally so that no one can challenge my right to protect her. Gio can try to attack and steal her back, but he won't be able to argue any longer that I don't have a right to her. He can't try to turn my allies against me by claiming I'm violating his sister.

"After we're finished, you can see him," I say calmly. I hate how much it sounds like a negotiation, like I'm bargaining with her instead of just giving her what she needs. "After you put on the dress. After we do this. Then you can see him."

"No." She shakes her head. "No, I'm not doing it. Not until you let me?—"

"We're doing this, Adriana. Tonight. The priest is waiting, and I'm not?—"

"I said no." She's not backing down, not giving an inch, and part of me admires her for it even as it frustrates me beyond measure. "I'm not marrying you tonight. I'm not marrying you at all until I understand what's happening, until I know my son is safe, until I?—"

She stops, her breath coming in short gasps, and I can see her starting to spiral again, starting to panic. I need to stop this before it gets worse.

Moving toward her is probably the wrong choice, but all I want is to pull her into my arms. I step closer, close enough to touch, and I see her chest start to heave. Gently, carefully, I rest my hands on her waist.

"Adriana, breathe. You know me. You know I would never hurt you. Matteo is safe, but we need to get this taken care of. We can'twaste any more time, and you can explain everything to him afterwards." I guide her away from the wall, toward the bed, and I can feel how tense she is. "This won't take long. But the priest is waiting." I repeat myself, feeling like my thoughts are scattered. I'm so fucking tired, and nothing is going the way it should. "I need—I need you to?—"

I don't know how to explain it, how to put into words this desperate need I have to make this official, to bind her to me in every way possible before she can slip away again. But the practicality of it is what I can cling to, so I stick with that.

She freezes next to the bed, staring at the dress. "Here," I say gently. "I'll help. I know you're tired, and this night has been a lot. I'm tired too. We'll get this done, and then you can see Matteo, and?—"

Without thinking, my fingers start to slide under her shirt. Ten years ago, I never touched her without her express permission, without her telling me over and over that it was okay… but after ten years of deprivation, with her right here, I can't help myself. I can smell the sweet scent of her hair, and she's so soft under my hands, andGod, my cock is swelling just from brushing her skin with my fingertips?—

"Stop," she gasps, twisting away. "Stop, please, just stop?—"