Chapter 13 #3
“Where are we going?” I ask through dry lips.
Dante takes my elbow and leads me to the other car. “We have a stop to make on the way.”
He helps me into the back and secures my seatbelt before getting in next to me. Reino drives.
Biting my lip, I stare through the window while doing my best not to fidget with the strap of the handbag that I’m clutching in a death grip in my lap.
I don’t ask where Dante is driving me because he’s not going to tell me.
I can only trust that he’ll take me back to Noah and Jazz when our business, whatever that may be, is done.
Not knowing what’s waiting for me only makes my apprehension worse. I resist the urge to fan myself as my skin turns clammy and hot despite the cold air blasting from the AC.
As we near Manhattan, the scenery turns familiar. The view is both reassuring and frightening. I left New York City for reasons that still traumatize me, and coming back isn’t easy because it means I have to face my demons. At least I know where I am, not that I’m able to escape Dante.
Downtown, Reino pulls into an underground parking lot. Dante gets my door. I’m surprised to see ten or more men waiting there, all armed.
I look at Dante quickly when he helps me out of the car.
“Don’t worry.” He takes my arm again, locking his fingers around my bicep as if he’s worried that I’ll run. “They’re mine.”
The men escort us to an elevator. Five stay in the parking lot while the others and Reino accompany us.
We get out on the top floor. The sign on the double glass doors reads Morici Holdings. Dante uses his thumbprint on a fingerprint access control reader on the wall to unlock the doors. We step into a large reception area with cream-colored sofas and glass side tables but no welcome desk.
A self-service health bar takes up one corner.
The fridge is stocked with bottles of juice and water.
A commercial Italian coffee machine stands on the counter.
Baskets hold an array of fruit and individually wrapped muffins.
A few bar stools are placed in front of the counter.
Various potted plants and trees create a green space at the back while the continuous, gentle trickling of water from an indoor fountain is soothing.
Despite the Zen ambience, I’m anything but calm as Dante leads me down a hallway past an open space with a few scattered desks to a big glass-encased room at the back. The blinds are down, preventing me from seeing inside.
Dante made me wear the Rolex. I check the time. It’s after six, which means the staff who work here have already left. The floor seems to be vacant except for the woman who exits the big room and walks toward us with a brisk pace, her stilettos clicking over the polished hardwood floor.
She’s dressed in a red two-piece suit with nails and lipstick to match. Glossy, raven-black hair hangs like a curtain down her back. Her bronze skin is as flawless as her makeup. A dainty gold flower stud adorns her nose. Long lashes frame eyes so dark they seem to be bottomless.
She meets us halfway across the floor, her gaze direct and friendly. If this were high school, I’d want to be her friend.
Ignoring Dante, she offers me a broad smile. “Miss Teszner, I’m so pleased to meet you.”
She knows who I am? I steal a sidelong glance at Dante who stands like a statue next to me.
“If you’re wondering how I know your name, I made your hotel reservation. Naturally, Dante told me he’d be bringing you with him to the office tonight.”
He did? He obviously tells her more than he tells me.
She extends a hand. “I’m Penny, Dante’s assistant.”
I shake her hand. “Please, call me Tatiana.”
She rolls her eyes in Dante’s direction. “I would if my boss wouldn’t kill me.”
“Cut the dramatics, Penelope,” Dante grumbles.
She hooks her arm through mine, drawing me away from Dante as she leads me toward the big room. “I hope you’re not too tired after the journey. Would you like to freshen up?”
“I’m good, thank you.”
“We have an excellent choice of refreshments. Are you hungry? The spirulina muffins are a great choice if you’re sporty like Dante, but my favorite are the black velvet ones.
” She winks. “You can see it on my hips, can’t you?
” We stop in front of the office. “I can get you a cappuccino or a latte to go with that.”
I take an immediate liking to her. “That’s kind, thanks, but I’m not hungry or thirsty.”
“Are you sure?” She studies my face like my mom used to do whenever she told me I was losing too much weight. “We also have freshly squeezed mango juice or mint-infused sparkling water. Personally, I’m a fan of the cucumber water. The herbal tea selection is extensive if you prefer that to coffee.”
“I’m fine, really.”
Taking my elbow, Dante pulls me to him. “She said no, Penelope.”
Penelope shakes her head. “Jesus, Dante. Don’t be such a jerk. I’m just making sure.”
“You can go home now,” he says coolly. “Thanks for waiting.”
She clicks her tongue and pats my hand. “If you need anything, don’t bother to ask him. Just call me. And if he doesn’t give you the number, it’s listed.”
After directing an accusing glare at Dante, she takes her leave.
Reino opens the door. Dante leads me inside a spacious boardroom with an oval table and at least twenty chairs.
A slender, attractive man sits at the end of the table, an empty cup and one of those famous muffins half-eaten in front of him.
He’s wearing a three-piece dove-grey suit that matches the color of his hair.
He stands when we enter. “Dante.”
Reino and two of the men take up a position in the room. The others wait outside, standing guard at the door.
Dante pulls out a chair for me.
Not having a choice, I sit down. I’m not sure my legs will carry me. I’m too nervous, not liking it when I don’t know what to expect, although I’m ninety-nine percent certain this is the part where I sign over what’s left of my inheritance.
Dante shakes the man’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
The man pushes gold-rimmed spectacles up his nose, barely glancing at me. He slides a file over the table toward Dante and puts a Montblanc pen on the folder. “Everything is ready as you instructed.”
Dante doesn’t take a seat. He stands over me as he opens the file and puts a stack of papers in front of me.
I pick up the first page and start reading, but everything blurs in my vision. I have to blink several times for my eyes to focus. I only catch a phrase here and there. The legal jargon is confusing. What I do understand though, is the word printed in big fat letters at the top of the page.
Prenuptial.
The sheet of paper shakes in my hand. “What is this, Dante?”
He flattens his palms on the desk, putting us on eye level. “It’s a long contract that’ll take quite a bit of time to read, so I’ll spare you the effort and give you the short and sweet version.”
I stop breathing as I look into his amber gaze which, for once, is heated instead of cold.
His voice, however, is toneless, giving nothing away. “You’ll give me control of your shares in Teszner Agglomerate. In order to do so, you’ll marry me.”
“M-marry you?” My mouth goes dry. “You never said anything about marriage.”
He fixes me with that unnerving stare that makes me feel as if he can see right into my soul. “Isn’t that where we were always headed?”
It feels as if my lungs collapse in on themselves. I can’t breathe. Yes, there was a time I wanted to marry Dante. Like having his children, it was all I wanted. I begged for that on my knees, and I paid the price.
Now? There can’t be a worse fate. Dante betrayed me in the cruelest way. I don’t want to tie myself to him with a sacred promise that, in our lives, is irrevocable.
Forever.
The wives of made men don’t get to divorce, not even if their husbands don’t love them.
My voice scrapes in my throat as I force out a single word. “No.”
Never.
I try to push back my chair, but Dante prevents me with a hand on my shoulder.
His order carries a silent threat. “You will sign that prenuptial agreement, Tatiana.”
The weight on my shoulder where he’s pinning me in place feels too much like that scene I’d witnessed in my mother’s walk-in closet. It scares me.
I look around the table for help, but the men only shift their weight. Reino appears mildly uncomfortable. The grey-haired man, who I presume to be Dante’s lawyer, is too busy shuffling the papers in front of him to pay me any notice.
Helpless tears burn at the back of my eyes. “Why do I have to marry you? Why can’t I just sign over the shares?”
“The shares can only be transmitted to family.” His lips twist into a smile. “Your father was clever enough to include the clause in the company bylaws.”
Of course. That sounds like my father. He would’ve made sure the shares could only go to Joni Stein if Joni married me, thereby creating the blood alliance my father needed so badly to strengthen his weakening empire.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Not batting an eyelash, Dante continues. “And I’m giving Noah my surname. My son will not grow up as a bastard, let alone with a false name.”
“Dante, please.” My lips tremble. “Don’t do this.”
He takes the pen and puts it in my hand before closing my fingers a little too firmly around it. “Sign the contract, Tatiana. You know what’s at stake.”
“Leander—” I start, but Dante cuts me short.
“Your brother won’t lay a finger on you. I’ll make sure of that. No one touches what belongs to me.”
Which confirms that I’m simply another one of Dante’s possessions, another piece he considers valuable enough to add to his collection.
Yet the document in front of me is too thick to just deal with the matter of my shares.
Disregarding the men, I try to focus and take my time to read it.
I may not be familiar with all the legal terms, but I know enough to understand that I’ll not only be signing over my shares but also everything I inherited from my parents, including the furniture and valuables in the condo that Dante already acquired when Leander squandered everything.
Dante is making sure I can’t claim anything he bought at the auction. He probably wants to rub Leander’s face in the fact that all my parents’ wealth now belongs to him. It’s part of his revenge plan.
Most alarmingly, the contract states that should I ever leave Dante, he’ll retain full custody of Noah. As long as we remain married and live in the same house, we’ll both have full parental rights.
“Page ten,” Dante says.
I glance up at him, hatred turning everything inside me bitter.
“I’m giving you a generous allowance,” he says. “You won’t need for anything.”
Except love.
Except being appreciated for who I am and not for what I can bring to the table.
“You’ll find the agreement more than fair.” Dante squeezes my fingers around the pen. “Now sign. You’re mine, Tatiana. It’s time the whole world knows it.”
It still feels like a death sentence when Dante brings my hand to the paper and places it over the dotted line.
It feels as if I’m signing my life away when I make the big cursive T of my name, but what choice do I have?
Dante will make me sign, whether I want to or not, and his lawyer and his men don’t give a damn if my signature is forced.
Tears I don’t want to shed slip free and roll over my cheeks. They fall in fat blobs on the paper, smearing the ink as I initial each page.
I’ve barely put the dot behind my name on the final page before Dante snatches the stack of papers away as if it’s the most valuable possession he owns. When he takes the pen, his fingers brush over mine, and his gaze holds mine for a moment too long.
I break our eye contact first, not wanting him to see the defeat in my eyes.
He initials each page in turn and signs his name next to mine before handing the contract to the lawyer. “Take care of that. I want certified copies in the safe.”
The lawyer slips the papers into a folder. “That goes without saying.”
As if he’s some kind of gentleman instead of a heartless monster, Dante offers me a hand.
Ignoring the gesture, I stand on wobbly legs.
My head spins. The room goes in and out of focus.
My steps are unsteady, but I refuse to show Dante and his men more weakness than I’ve already showed them.
Crying in front of them is mortifying enough.
Even though I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, I can’t control my tears.
Holding my head high, I walk to the door. Reino rushes forward to open it for me but I reach it before him.
Somehow, I find the strength to balance my weight on the high heels as I push the door open and exit into the hallway.
A sensation of suffocation closes in on me, but I just keep on moving, ignoring the tightness in my chest and the tears that won’t stop falling.
Those tears blurring my vision are born from helplessness and anger, but mostly, they come from a deep-seated notion of grief as I mourn the loss of more of my dreams.
My mother raised me on fairy tales and happy endings.
Maybe she did that because her own life was so unhappy.
Whatever the case, I dreamt about rings, a white dress, and a knight in shining armor.
I wanted the big wedding, the loving husband, and the babies.
I spent hours imagining every detail of what my wedding would be like.
I even planned the whole damn ceremony in my head, right down to the three-tier cake.
Yet this is how it’s going to be—a forced marriage in which I have no say. There won’t be tears of happiness, Dante going down on one knee, and wedding invitations going out from my parents on a gold-trimmed card.
Now, as Dante’s future wife, it feels more as if I’m walking toward a guillotine.