Page 129

It’s a decadent hotel suite, with an enormous bed wrapped in a gray duvet, creamy sheets, and frilly pillows. The walls are a shade darker; the windows are covered by thick drapes that don’t let an ounce of the outside streetlights intrude.

On the table is a white lace gown. My stomach twists.

“Tomorrow is your wedding,” Marco explains, unbuttoning his cuffs. He slowly rolls them up his forearms, and my body shudders. “But tonight, you give your loyalty to the Scipione name.”

“I give no loyalty except to my husband,” I spit, eyes narrowed. “I’m an O’Brien.”

Marco slaps me. The sudden hit knocks me to my knees, face exploding with heat and pain. Blinking away spots, I look up at his soft smile.

But it’s the eyes—pits so dark, no light shines. He’s no angel, but a demon sent to torture me.

Crouching before me, I lift my chin, refusing to back down. A glint shines in those unholy orbs, a sadistic smile growing. He wants my fight—enjoys it.

“That branding on your back is what you are. A bride to the future Scipione heir. A wife for my son. That is who you are.”

“You can burn my flesh, but I will never belong to your family. Never.”

He rocks forward, grabbing me. Tossing me onto the bed, he turns toward the gown. My hands fumble into my dress, the vial still in my bra. Thank Dio. I get to my knees, wiping the blood away from my mouth, stilling the trembling in my fingers.

“You’ve been mine since you were a child,” he muses, holding the gown high. It’s nothing but a slip of fabric, see-through and lacy. It’s a virginal nightgown. The kind a princess would wear before being sacrificed. “We have a tradition, bimba. You give your loyalty to the family—by way of the leader.”

“Well, you won’t get it from me.”

He lays the gown at my feet. “Rosa is coming in to help you change.”

He’s completely ignoring me, and I grow incensed. I’ve spent years being ignored, hidden away. Not anymore.

Kicking off the gown, I glare up at him. A flash of rage floats in his gaze, and a part of me smiles. He doesn’t expect me to rebel—but that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“Fuck your gown. Fuck your traditions.”

There’s a pause. He’s taken aback before surging forward. He traps me to the bed, his larger form pinning me down. Unlike with Briar, where a thrill skirts through me at the control, this fear bottoms out of my stomach.

I fail, kicking out, but his knees press me down. With a forearm at my neck, his other hand is free to roam my body. He trails my sides, and bile coats my tongue. When he reaches the end of my skirt, he lifts it high. From the waist down, I have no protection, and his finger dives under my panties.

“You might not be a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take what I’m owed. It’s a debt to be paid before you come into my family.”

Rage and shame all churn in my gut, burning alongside fear. He touches me as if he owns me, forcing me to take what he wants. It’s only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity before he pulls his finger away and I choke on a sob, disgusted.

“Get dressed,” he growls, sucking on his finger. Revulsion, thick as sludge, closes around my throat.

He pushes off, and I scramble, pulling my skirt back down. My cheeks are wet with hateful tears, and I glare at him as he leaves. He doesn’t even look at me before he goes.

I’m nothing to him. Not a person, only property.

A crushing sob sits in my chest, but I don’t let it out. I can’t. I have to get out of here.

Wiping my face, I look around the suite. There’s little in the way of weapons, and they took my phone. I spy a bar across the room with two glasses.

I grab my pillow and rush to it, placing the tumbler under the thick stuffing. Giving it a solid push, as if I’m to do CPR, the glass shatters. A piece cuts through, nicking my finger, but I ignore the sting. I hunt for the biggest piece and go back to the bed, tucking it under the pillow.

At least it’s something.

The hotel door opens, and Rosa enters. She’s in an elegant dress, makeup done, and hair pristine. She looks ready for a party—why?

She sees me and stops in the middle of the room.

“I have to get you ready.”