12. Heaven
CHAPTER 12
HEAVEN
W hen the gorgeous asshole, the devil himself, said we’re not finished tonight, I didn’t think he meant an engagement party.
He even bought a dress for me. And it fits perfectly. I don’t want to wear it. The soft forest green dress with matching heels is both impossibly old-fashioned and modern, and I hate it.
I feel like a lamb on display for sale or for slaughter, I don’t know which. There are small players from different families here. A smart move because it’s not in your face. It’s not a statement on Matteo’s behalf to the rest of the underworld.
They’ll know this for what it is, but they’ll see it more low-grade, as a business match. Him moving more center stage in New York.
He’s smart, I’ll give him that. And I think I hate him more for it. The damn rock on my finger is heavy, a constant reminder I’ve become his property. The ring is my own personal ball and chain, a tie to a man I detest.
A man who can touch me and make me burn with unwanted desire.
My head is woozy from too much champagne, which is the problem, nothing more. I can knock back whiskey like a sailor but give me a flute of bubbly and you’ll be scraping me off the floor.
“ Amore mio ,” Matteo says, coming up to me and sliding an arm around my waist.
I want nothing more than to slap him away, except right now his strength is calming.
I must be drunker than I thought.
“Let go of me,” I say through a smile.
He brushes the top of my head with his lips, and the fact that he hasn’t kissed me properly isn’t lost on me. I don’t want his tongue near mine. I don’t want it near any part of my body.
“Ah, Heaven, you’re drunk. We should go.”
“No.”
Matteo laughs. “The more you fight, the more fun I’ll have disciplining you.”
“Think what you want. But I have something I need to do.”
I refuse to leave my impromptu engagement party without a few parting words to my father, who has avoided getting too close to me ever since I stormed out here and grabbed a toasting glass.
I narrow my eyes and scour the entire pub, just noticing Conor must have made a disappearing act.
My brothers Quinn and Niall are partying it up, and to the side is Matteo’s brother talking to one of the Italian underbosses from Jersey. I catch Aunt Maura’s gaze and it glimmers with encouragement. Her eyes don’t comfort me, though. The look she flashes only makes the waves of nausea crashing over me that much more tumultuous.
I sway into Matteo and his grip tightens, steadying me, because that’s what a fiancé would do, right? Let you know he’s there to hold you steady and make sure you don’t wipe out on the sticky floor?
I eye the champagne bottle on the bar. I then pull free of Matteo’s disturbing touch and grab it, draining the last drops.
“Heaven, a leanbh ,” Aunt Maura interjects, taking the bottle. “Why don’t you go and splash some water on your face? Come on, I’ll take you?—”
I pull my arm away from her. “No, I can do it myself. I want to do it by myself.” I slink into the restroom, my fractured heart shattering faster with each step.
Pressing my fingertips to my temples, I lean against the bathroom door and try not to cry.
I’ve been completely and utterly betrayed by the one person who’s supposed to love and care for me above all else.
My shoulders quake and I cover my face, letting the grief consume me.
Dad’s edging me out—stripping me of my role and forcing me into one I never wanted. I’ve worked so hard, made the right moves, established the right relationships. I’ve made him so much more powerful because of it.
My gut clenches, and I run over to one of the stalls, dropping to my knees. After a few agonizing minutes, when there is literally nothing left inside of me, when I’m merely the empty shell my father thinks I am, I struggle to my feet and collapse against the stall door. A deep sigh shudders my body. I stagger to the sink, wash my hands and face, and rinse out my mouth.
I finally look at my reflection. Was it only an hour ago that I stared at this same face in the mirror and told her to take what she wanted, what she deserved?
I grip the sides of the sink so tightly, my knuckles turn white.
Oh, I took something all right.
Right up the ass.
A swift knock at the door makes me jump. “Who is it?”
“It’s your father. Can you please come out here?”
I breathe in and count to ten. Yes, I want to see him, but not so full of raw fury that I lose it. But after another slow count, I straighten up and step into the hallway, facing off with my father.
My idol.
My boss.
God, I’d always aspired to be just like him, and when the time came, to rule this family with him by my side as a mentor.
Now all I see is a pathetic coward who chose his only daughter to solve a problem caused by one of his sons. The one he always coddles and protects. Conor. The chosen.
I can’t believe I never saw it.
I fold my arms across my chest, leaning back against the wall because I’m still pretty dizzy. “You came to check on me? How sweet. Was that your fatherly instinct talking, or were you just nervous I’d made a run for it and left you with nothing to offer the Italians?”
His eyebrows furrow. “That was unnecessary, Heaven Margaret. Do not speak to me in that tone. I’m your boss.”
“Not anymore. You sold me to the highest bidder. To pay for Conor’s mistakes. To save his ass.”
“Heaven—”
“You know what? I’d rather you just be a father right now,” I say, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “The kind who realizes he just stole the life and dreams right out of his only daughter’s grasp.”
“I explained why this is happening,” he says in a low voice, looking behind him. We’re in a quiet hallway, accessible only by a door, but you just never know who might be lurking. Interesting that he’s cautious now. I mean, he just signed my life away to a virtual stranger.
And a fucking deviant one at that.
“Well, I didn’t like your explanation,” I shoot back. “It feels like I’m getting screwed because I’m a woman.”
“Matteo Villani can offer us protection, as well as the opportunity to expand. You are making a sacrifice, yes, but just think about the empire we can build with their resources and connections.”
I suck in a breath, sharp and painful. Because there it is. The truth beneath it all. “Once Conor is safe?”
“Once everyone is safe, Heaven. Then we can use this. The greater good. And?—”
“You know what, Dad?” I push away from the wall. “I’m done with this conversation. You’ll see what kind of underboss Conor is without me to clean up after him.”
I tear my eyes away from his tired ones and stalk toward the door at the end of the hallway that leads back to the pub. I pull it open and stride over to my family. After kissing my brothers and aunt good night, I walk straight up to Matteo and lace my fingers with his. “I’m ready to go,” I say.
He nods and squeezes my hand, pulling me away from the others. He leans in close, a frown on his face. “ Amore mio , are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Hate me all you want, but I see your potential even if they don’t. And I know how you feel, but I mean it when I say I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
He doesn’t say it as a threat. At least, through the veils of booze it doesn’t sound like a threat. He’s got what he wants, yes, but at least he asked if I’m okay.
How nice.
At least one person gives a shit.
Ironic that it’s the fiancé I hate.