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Her laugh has sharp edges. “Wow. This is crazy! A forced marriage as a Get Out of Death Free card.” She spins to face me, pure hatred in her glare. “I’d rather rot.”
She thinks I’m bluffing. Suddenly, I’m shouting back, my voice slicing through the damp air. “This isn’t about wants. It’s survival. If you step out that door, you’re gone.”
We’re face-to-face. She lifts her chin like a dare, and the air crackles.
“You think I’ll jump just ’cause you bark?” she shoots, her green eyes spitting sparks. “That I’ll promise myself to you just ’cause you’re scary?”
My mouth twists. “No. But death’s got a pretty strong argument.”
The air’s about to snap. She’s breathing as if she just climbed a mountain. So am I. There’s a mix of anger, panic, and…desire running through me, though I’d rather not admit the last part.
The door flies open.
Marco stumbles in, gasping. “Enzo!” He doubles over, his hands on his knees. “Don Nico’s here. Black SUVs. Six men. Armed.” He straightens, though I spy the panic bleeding through. “Gabi sent him. For her.” He gulps air. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe less.”
Sophia immediately becomes ashen, her eyes fluttering as her hand finds the wall. I’m already in motion, grabbing her wrist, pulling her to me. Her skin is hot, her pulse racing wildly under my thumb. When she reopens her eyes, they flare with terror and comprehension.
I don’t waste time thinking as my hand slides to the back of her neck. I let my fingers tangle in her hair and crash my mouth down on hers.
For the first few seconds, my rough kiss has her reeling. Then her lips part, and she kisses me back with the same intensity while her hands fist my shirt.
Heat explodes through my chest. My grip tightens in her hair as I tilt her head back and deepen the kiss. She tastes like fear and defiance and a sweetness I can’t name.
My other hand finds her waist and pulls her flush against me. No space. No air. Just her soft curves pressed against my hard muscle.
She melts into me, committed to an act that doesn’t feel like one.
Blood roars in my ears, and every nerve ending lights up.
For a split second, nothing else exists except her mouth on mine and her hands clutching my shoulders.
This is insane, even reckless.
Even so, I don’t stop until I hear the door slamming into the wall. Don Nico and his goons catch the show, and their eyes widen. I don’t care. I break the kiss when I want to, leaving her lips red and her eyes thunderous.
She just might detonate right here.
I face them all, my voice like a slab of concrete. “She’s my fiancée. If you move her, you answer to me.”
Don Nico studies us with flickering suspicion. His gaze lingers on Sophia’s lips, then on the way my hand still encircles her wrist. Recognizing my resolve, he exhales slowly.
Nico’s old school, one of the last who respected Gabi’s father. He prefers me to the boy king upstairs. His shoulders drop slightly, the decision made. “Very well. If that’s the truth, she stays.”
The guards exchange glances but back away. Sophia’s chest rises and falls as she catches her breath, her eyes wide and unfocused. She doesn’t protest. Just hovers, swept along by a current moving too fast for her to fight.
“Marco, escort her to the main house. The maids will prepare her. She wears Benedetti silk now.” My tone leaves no room for rebellion.
Sophia sways, still dazed, her body humming from the kiss. Confusion shadows her defiance.
Don Nico lingers, pulling me aside as Marco leads her out. “This…choice. Are you certain it’s wise?”
“Wiser than letting Gabi sell her to the Bratva.” My tone is flat steel. “I won’t change my mind.”
His eyes narrow, but he nods, his cane tapping as he retreats.
I yank out my phone, my thumb pressing numbers with brutal precision. “Gio, find a priest. Sophia and I marry tonight.”
The decision weighs as heavily as chains. A vow forged not in love but survival. Yet fire still licks at my lips, the echo of her taste refusing to fade.
