Chapter 5
FIVE
Adrian
T he liquor, the sheer dress, that man's hands on her body — it all distracted me from what I actually needed to tell her, the whole reason I was searching for her in the first place. Her brother is missing, and I’ve been focused on the wrong thing: her. I was supposed to find her, make sure she was safe, and report back to her mother. Not cage her against the sink and think about what those luscious lips would taste like if I pressed mine against them.
Something about this girl makes all my brain cells disappear, putting my dick in charge, which is never a good idea. Anger still courses through me despite trying to restrain myself. I don’t want to scream at her, don't want to scare her away—the girl already hates me and the fact that she has to walk down the aisle to marry me tomorrow isn’t helping. But her recklessness is grating. Still, I should have broken the news gently, eased off the band aid. Instead, I announced her missing family member with the same finesse as a kid with a loudspeaker.
Madi’s eyes, brown with little flecks of gold, hold all her emotion. Every other inch of her is sealed off, guarded under lock and key. But those two brown orbs tell me everything I need to know.
“What are you talking about?” Her face is still, completely calm. But inside those brown eyes, I can see the surprise mingling with the confusion.
“Marcus,” I repeat, rubbing a hand over my face. “Marcus is missing.” This wasn’t how I wanted to tell her. I wanted to be softer, nicer, the kind of guy she deserves. But she has a way of bringing out the worst in me.
Two dark and perfectly groomed eyebrows narrow, bunching up on her forehead. “Is he dead?” she asks, matter of fact.
“We haven’t found a body.”
A long breath leaves her lips as she nods. “You probably won’t.”
I knew she and Marcus didn’t have the best relationship, but still, he was her brother. I expected a little more emotion from her. Something… But this girl in front of me doesn’t look like she cares at all.
“Can you excuse me?” she says. “I have to pee.”
Her nonchalance throws me off, but I step back anyway, letting her shut the door to my half bath. I stand outside like a stalker, listening to her pee before she flushes and washes her hands. When the door swings back open, she gives me a look, once that clearly shouts, “what kind of fucking weirdo listens to his future wife using the bathroom?”
“If you want to-”
“Talk?” she finishes for me, one eyebrow lifted. “Is that what you want me to do, Adrian? Talk about my big brother?” Sass drips from her lips. She’s the queen of it, always ready with some sort of quip. But right now, I want to shake her. Regardless of what he’s done, he’s still her brother…
“I’m not sad my brother is gone, Adrian.” She says each word clearly, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “He hasn’t been the boy I grew up with for a long time, and I won’t mourn for a monster.”
“Is that what you think of him?” I eye her, waiting for an answer.
“Yes.”
“And then what do you think of me?”
She doesn’t speak for a long moment, instead her eyes drop to my feet and rise slowly back up my body to my face. “Are we still getting married?”
There’s very little that can stop me from getting what I want. And what I want right now is Madalena Ricci. I didn’t intend to ask for her hand in marriage; my original plan was only to gain Marcus’s trust through my legal services. And then she was in front of me, bright blue hair and a failed marriage proposal. Maybe I have a hero complex, wanting to come to her rescue before her brother choked the life out of her. Or maybe I adjusted the plan because I thought marrying her gave me a better in with her family. Regardless, the outcome is the same. Tomorrow, she’ll walk down the church aisle in a white dress and promise herself to me.
Princess or not, she’s mine.
I wet my lips before I answer. “Yes.”
“Then you're a monster too.” She turns quickly on her heel, but I catch her, spinning her and pushing her back against the wall so I can cage her in again.
I want to tell her to stop running from me, that no matter where she goes, I’ll find her. That I would hunt to the ends of the earth if it meant keeping her. Maybe that makes me crazy, maybe that makes me unhinged, but I don’t care much.
“Oh, but I’m your monster, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” She frowns.
“No? What would you prefer?”
“How about my name, asshole.”
I can’t help the smirk that rises on my lips. I like when she’s a brat; it makes me want to punish her smart mouth. Maybe not tonight…but soon.
“Nah.” I shake my head with a grin. “I like princess better.”
She rolls her eyes, hands poised on her hips. “Are you going to let me go to bed or not?”
“Anything you want, princess.” I gesture for her to move, but when she does, I grab her one last time, pulling her back until her spine hits my chest. “One last thing.” I run the tip of my nose from the crook of her neck up to her ear, breathing softly. “You will marry me, Madi. You’ll walk down the aisle with a smile on your face, and afterward you’ll thank all our guests for coming and then you’ll come home with me. There’s no out. No alternative. That ring on your finger makes you mine. Understood?”
“You’re a psycho!” she hisses.
“No, princess, I’m your husband .”
Madi looks at me with fury in her eyes. “If you choose to marry me,” she says, low and dripping with a warning, “I will make it my life's mission to make you miserable every. Single. Day. You take my life, I’ll take yours.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, tamping down my growing smile. I can’t deny that I like her like this. My dick is hardened just at the thought of taming her, punishing her for every little threat she tries until she realizes that she belongs to me.
Her tongue darts out, wetting those perfect pink lips. “No, it’s a promise.”
Madi goes to sleep in my spare bedroom, and I find myself itching to join her, annoyed that she’s across the hall instead of curled up next to me.
Not that she’d come to this room willingly.
The girl hates me, after all.
I wanted to tell her there was only one bed in this house, force her into the spot next to me. But some old wives’ tale hangs over me, making me believe I can’t spend the night with her yet. Not until she’s my wife.
That word radiates beneath my skin, warmth flooding me. She doesn’t want to marry me; she’s made that abundantly clear, and yet, here I am forcing her down the aisle.
Before her brother died, I would've told you I was doing it to save her from an even worse marriage. Marcus wanted to marry her off to whoever offered him the best deal, which to him, meant the most money. He didn’t care what happened to his sister as long as his pockets were filled. So in some way, me marrying her is in her best interest.
But he’s gone now.
What reason do I have to keep her, other than the fact that I want her ?
Seeing her at the bar tonight with that douchebag's hands on her body only made my desire for her stronger. I don't want to see anybody else touch her. Don't want to see anybody else's hands roaming her skin. Madi belongs to me.
I have no right to her, and she has no reason to believe I’m one of the good guys when all of my actions have proved contrary. And still, I’m going to keep her like a bird in a gilded cage because everything in me wants to.
And I don’t deny myself the things I want. Not anymore.
I don’t sleep well, visions of her flooding my brain, and when my alarm rings only a few hours later, I don’t feel anything close to rested. I get up anyway. I need to return Madi to her mother before she has a conniption.
Caterina Costello Ricci called me in a panic last night. Madi was MIA, and she had just been delivered the news of her son going missing. If she hadn’t, I’m not sure I would have gone out searching for my fiancée. I trusted that her mother had her tucked in for a night of beauty rest, since we have a day of wedding activities ahead of us. If she hadn’t called me, though, who knows what would have happened to Madi.
Madi’s already up with her back to me when I enter the spare room. For a moment, before she turns and sees me, she looks peaceful. I can imagine waking up to her every morning. Maybe even one of these days, she’ll roll over and greet me with a smile.
But today, it’s a frown that’s marking her perfect lips. She’s not happy to see me. Never is.
“Morning, princess.”
She scoffs at my greeting. “Are you taking me home, or do I need to call an Uber?” She waves her phone at me, like it’s a threat.
“I’ll drive you.”
She’s wearing the one-piece leotard, but when she stands up, she reaches for the sparkly shift dress she was wearing over it last night. Her tanned skin is creamy and on display, and I have the urge to touch her, to trail my fingers and mouth over every inch of her skin, make sure she knows who she belongs to.
“Ready?” I ask once she’s pulled the black boots onto her feet.
She doesn’t answer, just gives me an annoyed look and walks past me toward the stairs. On some level, I think living with her is going to be like living with a teenager. But on another, the brat in her excites me to no end.
She can be as bratty as she wants, because in one day, she’ll officially be mine.