Chapter 3
LUNA
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
It’s all I can think, one unending litany, as Priest marches me back into the club like I’m a criminal on a perp walk. I try to catch my father’s eye, but he won’t look at me.
I may have been born into this world, but my father was always good at insulating me from it. I was a Mafia princess in a gilded cage, kept from all the blood and bombs and Glocks.
A minute ago, I just had a gun jammed into my temple.
That’s not the only thing Priest jammed into me when he trapped me against the wall and crowded me with his big, powerful body, his heat seeping into me.
He smells like citrus and pine trees and sex.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about his scent and wondering whether it’s cologne or soap.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about his massive dick and the fact that he was hard.
I just am.
Maybe it’s shock. Maybe this is what happens when you’ve just been some lunatic’s trigger finger and a whim away from having your brains Jackson Pollocked all over the wall. Maybe I’ve lost my mind. Or maybe it’s something worse. Much worse.
My father’s not looking at me, and he called me home because he supposedly has cancer, but the club is empty and the Andriani crew is here, packing heat. I’m going to die.
That’s what this is.
My father crossed them somehow. Badly. They have something on him, or he’d never be here. He’d never make sure to lure me like a lamb to the slaughter. We don’t get along, but I’m the only flesh and blood he has left now that Leo’s gone.
I’m going to die, and some of my final thoughts on this earth are going to be about the size of Priest Andriani’s cock and how I was today years old when I realized it’s possible to be terrified and turned on at the same time.
That you can hate someone and also want to fuck them.
Or maybe something’s wrong with me, specifically, that I’m capable of feeling that way.
Maybe I’m every bit as much of a psycho as he is.
I reach the seating area I was so determined to avoid.
The red velvet couches and chairs. It never seemed so obvious to me before, that the couches are the color of blood.
My father is still looking everywhere but at me.
The Andrianis are watching. One of them looks amused.
The others look like they want to kill me themselves.
“Sit, bella ,” Priest orders mockingly from behind me.
I choose a chair, opting out of the couch.
I don’t want anyone sitting that close to me.
But as if he knows the reason for my decision, Priest hooks his foot in the leg of the nearest chair and drags it across the floor until it’s flush with mine.
Then he sinks into it, stretching out his long legs, ankles crossed.
It’s the easy, graceful pose of a man who’s hot and dangerous as fuck and knows it.
I’m briefly fascinated by the sharp line of his jaw, covered in dark stubble I felt in the barest whisper against my cheek earlier when he leaned close and spoke into my ear.
But then I yank my gaze away, back to my father, who finally meets my eye again after throwing me to the wolves a few minutes ago when he allowed Priest to chase after me.
Does he know Priest had a gun to my head? Does he care? What the hell do they have on him?
He shrugs lightly, the way he does when he offers an apology he doesn’t mean.
Whatever this is, it’s not good.
I feel it hovering in the air, this ominous sense of impending doom.
Everyone sits, except for one of the Andriani crew, who goes to the door, guarding it in a defensive stance, legs spread wider than normal, hands clasped.
I decide to talk first. If I’m going to die anyway, I may as well get this party started.
“What’s going on here? Why is the club a ghost town?” I’m addressing my father, but at this point, I have no idea if he’ll respond.
“Have some patience,” Priest chides at my side like it’s his right.
I slant him a glare, wishing I were immune to his good looks.
It should be a sin for a man so evil to look so damn hot.
My ovaries don’t seem to care that he’s a ruthless murderer, a killer who tortures his enemies to death for sport, a criminal, a gangster, one of the vicious psychos responsible for Leo’s murder. Fucking bastards.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap at him.
The Andriani who looks amused, Scorpion, whistles. “You going to control her, brother?”
I want to cut off his balls and feed them to him. “No man controls me.”
“Wrong again, sweetheart,” Priest drawls at my side. “I do now.”
I’m gripping the arms of the chair so hard, it’s a miracle they don’t break off. “You don’t control me. I came back here because you threatened to shoot my father if I didn’t, while I watched.”
I’m pushing it, and I know it. Pushing him .
I can see the outline of his Glock under that expensive suit jacket that perfectly delineates his shoulders.
But I don’t care. I’m reconciled to my fate.
That’s the way it is in this life, and I was born into it.
One day, your time comes—and always at the end of a mobster’s gun.
I’m going to die. I’ll mouth off if I want to. And I won’t be controlled by anyone, least of all some Andriani prick.
“Your father’s signature on the marriage contract says I do,” Priest says calmly.
Smugly.
The fuck?
Marriage what?
Marriage contract ?
Jesus fucking cheese and crackers.
My mind goes blank. I can’t remember how to speak. I misheard him. He couldn’t have just said what I think he did.
“ Bella , I wanted to have this conversation a different way,” my father says.
I look at him. Really look at him.
It feels like I’m at the end of a tunnel, like my vision is rounded off and dark at the edges, like I’m hearing his voice from afar. Panic. That’s what’s seized me. Did someone shoot me? Maybe I’m dead.
Am I dying?
I’m dying.
I look down, searching for blood.
“You’re not dying, bella .”
That voice. His voice again. It’s darkly amused. Did I ask that out loud? Shit. I’m losing it.
“What conversation?” I demand of my father, too upset to hide the desperation in my voice.
They’re burned into my brain, those two words. Marriage contract.
Priest fucking Andriani said he has the right to control me.
He said my father’s signature on a marriage contract gave him that right.
But that’s impossible. We don’t do arranged marriages.
This isn’t the old days. I have autonomy.
That’s why I’m in Iowa finishing my MFA.
That’s why I left this life in the dust and never looked back.
“I need you here,” my father tells me.
“I am here.” My panic is spiraling. I have zero chill right now. “You asked me to come home, and I did. I booked an early-morning flight and flew here in the middle of the week.”
“I need you to stay here,” he elaborates, flicking a glance to Priest, then another to Saint. “You can’t go back.”
Saint chuckles. “Fucking heartwarming. Cut to the chase, Revello.”
No one speaks to my father with such disdain and lives to tell the tale. He’s been known to end men for far less.
But my father just quietly swallows it, his hands opening and closing on the armrests of his stupid red velvet chair, like he’s trying to grasp something that’s perpetually eluding him.
“We’re reuniting the families,” he tells me quietly.
There’s only one way to reunite the families—in blood.
And I’m my father’s only daughter. Just like Leo was his only son.
I shake my head, a chill going down my spine. “No.”
“Yes,” my father says, and I can hear the resignation in his voice.
He’s made his decision. He’s sacrificing me, my future, my happiness. All for the sake of his greedy empire.
“You’re marrying Matteo Andriani,” he adds, spelling it out in case I’m not sharp enough to connect the dots.
“I’m not marrying him.” I shoot to my feet, and so do all the Andrianis, in unison.
Their weapons are drawn. I’m staring down the barrels of half a dozen guns. And I know without a doubt they won’t hesitate to put a bullet in me.
Death is a way of life in this world. You obey, or you die.
“The contract is signed,” Priest tells me coolly. “You need to accept it.”
Unlike the others, he hasn’t retrieved his Glock. It’s still there, tucked back into his concealed holster. I can grab it, maybe get off a shot…
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he says softly, like he can read my mind.
Fuck.
This is bad. This is worse than bad. It’s worse than death. I walked into this room thinking I was about to die, and now I wish I had. It would be far preferable to a lifetime of hell as this monster’s wife.
“I won’t marry you,” I tell him resolutely. “You’re going to have to kill me.”
“You are, and I won’t.” Priest stays calm.
But his eyes are cold and dead. Entirely devoid of emotion.
Merciless.
“ Bella , listen to me,” my father implores, drawing my attention back to him. “This is for the best. You’ll see. I’m only doing this to protect you, to make sure you’re safe.”
“I’m finishing my MFA,” I bite out. “This is my last year.”
So close to freedom, only to have it ripped away. I shouldn’t have come back here. I never should have answered my father’s summons. I should have run away instead. Cancer, he’d claimed. The prognosis wasn’t good.
Jesus, did he lie? Is any of it true? Or is the cancer the reason for this arranged-marriage bullshit? But if so, why drag the Andrianis into this? He could pass his empire on to someone in the family.
“I indulged you,” my father says. “I shouldn’t have.”
No, no, no.
I feel like a wild animal that’s been trapped in a cage. I can’t get out, and I’m terrified, my fate painfully clear.
“I told you I wanted out of this life,” I remind him. “You agreed.”
My father shrugs. “I lied.”
Just another in a mountain of them. I shouldn’t be shocked. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to believe him in the first place. But I am. And I did.