Chapter 5
Nick
In the month since the papers were signed, the ranch had been a flurry of activity.
Dante had visited several times to meet with supplies, make purchases, and hire contractors to get the ranch back up and running again.
He’d requested my presence during every visit, but I’d refused to see him.
I wasn’t going to spend what little freedom I had left with that monster.
I’d watched through the living room window as more cattle were brought in, barns were upgraded, and a luxurious looking tiny house was installed on the far side of the property.
The thing reeked of money and stood out like a sore thumb.
But it was going to be my new home as soon as Dante and I were married.
The thought made me sick.
Despite having a month to make a plan or figure out how to get out of this entire mess, I came up empty-handed.
I’d read through the contract at least a hundred times, searching for some kind of loophole.
But there wasn’t one. And even if I found one, my family’s lives were on the line.
People like the Valentis didn’t let their investments go easily.
There would be a price to pay, they’d made sure of that.
So, when the morning of the wedding finally arrived, I knew I was beaten.
I dressed quietly and went downstairs, a suitcase full of clothing waiting by the door to go to my new home with me.
My mother tried to offer me coffee and food, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach either.
I was too filled with dread and anticipation to consume anything.
My father appeared in the kitchen doorway, already dressed in his Sunday best. He looked older than he had a month ago, the weight of what he’d done etched into every line of his face.
“It’s time,” he said quietly.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Heather came down the stairs behind him, wearing a pale blue dress.
She’d offered to come with us to the courthouse, to stand as a witness.
I’d told her she didn’t have to, but she’d insisted.
Said she needed to be there. Needed to see this through since it should have been her in my place.
The drive to town was silent except for the sound of tires on gravel, then asphalt.
Mom sat in the passenger seat, her hands twisted together in her lap.
Dad’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
Heather reached over from the backseat and squeezed my shoulder once, but I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge the gesture.
Hell Creek’s courthouse was a modest brick building on Main Street, sandwiched between the feed store and the old library. I’d driven past it a thousand times without giving it much thought. Now it loomed in front of me like a prison.
Dante’s black SUV was already parked out front.
My stomach dropped.
“We can still turn around,” Dad said suddenly, his voice rough. “We can run. All of us. Just get in the truck and drive until—”
“Until what?” I cut him off. “Until they find us? Until they kill Heather or Mom to make a point?” I shook my head. “No. This is happening. Let’s just get it over with.”
I climbed out of the truck before anyone could argue, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine from the mountains and coffee from the diner down the street. Normal smells. A normal day for everyone in Hell Creek except me.
The courthouse door opened, and Dante stepped out.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, no tie, the top button of his white shirt undone. He looked like he’d stepped out of some magazine spread about wealthy criminals. Dark hair perfectly styled, that sharp jawline clean-shaven, those predatory eyes finding mine immediately.
“Nick,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue like he owned it. “You look...” His gaze traveled down my body and back up, taking in my simple button-down shirt and dress pants. “Presentable.”
“Let’s just do this,” I said through gritted teeth.
Something flickered across his face—amusement, maybe, or satisfaction. He gestured toward the door. “After you, baby.”
The word made my skin crawl.
Inside, the courthouse was cool and quiet. Our footsteps echoed on the old tile floors as we made our way to the clerk’s office. A heavyset woman with graying hair looked up from her desk, her expression carefully neutral when she saw Dante.
“Mr. Valenti,” she said. “Everything’s ready for you.”
Of course it was. Money talked, even in Hell Creek.
Angelo, Dante’s personal thug, was there too, leaning against the wall near the office.
I’d seen him wandering around the property with his slacks tucked into cowboy boots like some big city clown trying to play cowboy.
He straightened when he saw us, nodding to Dante.
He was the one who’d be watching to make sure I didn’t try to run.
The ceremony itself was mercifully brief.
A judge I didn’t recognize, probably imported from another county and paid off to keep quiet, stood behind a desk and read from a card in a bored monotone.
The words washed over me without meaning.
Love, honor, cherish. Sickness and health. Till death do us part.
All lies. This wasn’t a marriage. It was a transaction.
“Do you, Nicholas James Wesley, take Dante Michael Valenti to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The room went silent. Everyone was looking at me. My family, their faces pale and stricken. Angelo, his expression blank. The judge, impatient. And Dante, those dark eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
This was it. My last chance to say no, to walk away, to choose myself over everything else.
But I thought about the ranch. About Mom and Dad growing old on the land they loved. About Heather, safe and free to live her own life.
“I do,” I heard myself say.
Dante’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile.
“And do you, Dante Michael Valenti, take Nicholas James Wesley to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” he said without hesitation, his voice smooth and confident.
“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Montana, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss.”
My heart stopped.
Dante stepped closer, and I instinctively took a step back. His hand came up, fingers curling around the back of my neck, firm and possessive. He pulled me toward him, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stand there as his lips pressed against mine.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, and claiming.
His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of coffee and mint.
I clenched my eyes shut, praying that some merciful god would take me away from all this.
But when I felt his tongue press against my lips, I knew there would be no mercy for me.
I clenched my teeth, not letting him in.
When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed along my jaw, and I saw the triumph in his eyes.
“There,” he murmured with a smile, just loud enough for me to hear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I wanted to hit him. Instead, I jerked away from his touch and turned to face my family.
Mom was crying silently, tears streaming down her face. Dad looked like he might be sick. Heather was pale, her arms wrapped around herself.
“I’ll come visit,” I told them, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “Soon.”
“Nick—” Mom started, but I shook my head to silence her. There was nothing anyone could say or do to save me now. A deal had been struck.
The judge called us over to sign the marriage certificate, which I did with as much disdain as possible. As soon as all the formality was done with, Dante led us all outside. It was a bright, sunny day, and the breeze was warm, like even nature herself didn’t give a shit that my life was over.
“Well, that was quaint,” Dante said, turning back to our little group, still grinning from ear to ear. “Mr. Wesley, if you don’t mind, Angelo is going to be staying at the main house with you to keep an eye on things. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be an excellent house guest.”
My father looked like he wanted to argue, but he just nodded. What else could he do? Dante Valenti owned us all now.
“And you,” he said, holding out a hand to me. “Would you like to see our new home?”
I gritted my teeth. I wanted to shout, to scream, to tell him to fuck off. Instead, I just crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring his hand. “Fine,” I grumbled.
Dante’s smile widened, like my defiance pleased him somehow. He turned and started walking toward his SUV, clearly expecting me to follow. I looked back at my family one last time. Mom was still crying, Dad’s jaw was clenched, and Heather watched me with guilt-ridden eyes. I forced my feet to move.
The walk to the SUV felt like a funeral march.
Dante opened the passenger door for me, a mockery of gentlemanly behavior.
I climbed in without acknowledging the gesture, staring straight ahead as he rounded the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat.
The leather was expensive, the interior immaculate.
Everything about this man screamed money and power.
He started the engine, and we pulled away from the courthouse. I watched my family shrink in the side mirror until they disappeared completely.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Dante said after a few minutes of silence. “Most people have something to say on their wedding day.”
I didn’t respond. What was there to say? That I hated him? He already knew that. That this was a mistake? Too late now. That I wanted to throw myself out of the moving vehicle? Probably not the best idea.
“The silent treatment,” he continued, sounding amused. “That’s fine. We have plenty of time for you to find your voice again.”