22. Victoria
22
VICTORIA
Thursday, September 12, 5:40 AM
I’m married.
To a killer.
To my ex-boyfriend’s uncle.
To the professor who is determined to wreck my confidence and destroy my GPA.
To a man that refuses to give me a straight answer to anything.
After calling an Uber from the church steps, Dante booked us a hotel room for the night. On the way there, he explained that I would not be going back to my dorm tonight.
He wanted to keep Liam away from me at all costs. In fact, I was to keep my distance from my ex and all of his buddies as much as possible. That was rule number one, which he spelled out for me the moment the door closed behind us in our spacious hotel room.
Rule number two was that I needed to stay on campus. If I wanted to leave Thronewood, I needed to let Dante know. It seemed a little micro-managing to me, but I could swallow that one so long as he didn’t think I’d stop going to my classes at Graham.
Rule number three was that I could not speak to Chase Gladden at all, ever again, to infinity and beyond, forever. Dante was more than clear on that one. Again, an easy enough rule to accept.
And then rule number four was that I was to remain faithful to him for as long as we were married.
I admit, that last one tripped me up a bit. Really, who cares? It’s not like Dante and I are involved and while I may not have a line of dudes waiting to take me out on a date, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that I could meet someone.
Someone you’d bring into the middle of all this?
My nose scrunches in the dark as I continue listening to Dante breathing softly next to me. He stayed on top of the covers, choosing to lie on his back while I tucked myself under the duvet and settled on my side before we both drifted off to sleep.
But when I awoke at some ungodly hour, restless and uneasy, I found that he had turned to his side facing me. I haven’t been able to turn away from him since.
The soft glow of one of the wall sconces allows me to study his face. I’ve never seen him so relaxed, so peaceful. The shadows highlight his chiseled features, his strong jaw and cheekbones. Crows-feet are just beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. They should be a reminder of how much older he is, but they only underscore the air of confidence and authority he wears like a second skin. Dante may be twenty years older than me, but he is the most attractive man I have ever seen.
I have to remind myself that none of this is real, that it’s all an act, an elaborate lie to get us out of a bad situation. Nothing more, nothing less. The last thing I need is let my emotions get involved in this make-believe story. That would just complicate things.
Well, complicate them up more than they already are .
“Why are you up?”
I jolt a bit at the sound of Dante’s voice because his eyes are still closed. I know because I’m staring at them. “Don’t tell me you have eyes in the back of your head because you’d creep me out.”
“I don’t see what good they would do me when I’m facing you, princess.”
“How did you know I was up?”
“Your breathing.”
Oh.
Clever observation, killer husband.
Weirdly, nothing about him scares me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m put off when he glowers at me or scowls after I’ve done something he doesn’t approve of. He doesn’t like me and it’s obvious, but being the focus of his displeasure is becoming so routine that I almost don’t even register his irritation anymore.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. I’m spiraling because my nerves are shot. My mother is going to kill me. That fear, imagining her finding out and unleashing all her wrath on me, turned into a horrific nightmare. Hence, me lying awake in a cold sweat.
Dante doesn’t need to hear all that. He doesn’t care.
“Rule number five, princess?—”
“Oh, hell no,” I chide with knitted brows, even though he can’t see them. But maybe he can sense them with all those inhuman superpowers of his. “You’ve reached your limit on rules, Mr. Moretti.”
“There is no limit.”
“There is. That’s my rule number one.”
I think I see a ghost of a smirk play along his lips, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “What’s rule number two?”
“Shutting up when I tell you to.”
Dante’s brows lift as if surprised by my reply but I’m fully aware that he’s not. “How wifely of you, princess. You’re really fitting into the role.”
“That’s my job, isn’t it?”
“Amongst other things.”
“Like?”
He slightly rocks his head back and forth against the pillow, probably weighing which fights with me are worth it. “Too late for all that.”
I bristle at his non-answer, but the avoidance gambit isn’t all that surprising. “Don’t tell me you’re a grumpy old man who has a strict bedtime and never fucks past eight.”
That comment has Dante’s eyes flying open and my whole body buzzes at the impact of those dark eyes as they slam into mine. The moment is suddenly far too intimate.
We’re alone.
In a bed.
I’m his wife.
He’s my husband.
This is all a sham.
But I think that makes it easier to tease him. There won’t be any lasting repercussions. This will end eventually. It has to. And we’ll both get to walk away.
“You’re pretty ballsy for a virgin.”
What the hell?
“What?” I shoot back, more than a little insulted that he thinks me that innocent and naive. He may have more than two decades of life experience on me, but I’m no nun. I’ve had boyfriends, hookups. “If you wanted to marry someone pure enough to pass muster in the nineteenth-century, you picked the wrong girl.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Why? Because no other girl on campus had a large enough trust fund to help you?”
“No, because you’ll never fall in love with me.”
I frown.
It’s just another reminder not to let myself get caught up in this man.
He’s so not worth it.
If I push this, if I let myself fall for him, I’ll be the one bruised and hurting at the end of this. Not him. I’ve seen plenty evidence that the Moretti men don’t have hearts or souls, just big egos and a hunger that can’t be satiated.
“Let’s just get this over with so we can get out of each other’s hair. I don’t want to cramp your lack of style,” I mutter.
“You don’t think I have style?” I’m not used to him speaking casually to me, almost teasing, even as we share some hard truths.
And how he’s not reacting to anything I say the way I expect him to.
I’m sure he’s exhausted from the day because I know I am. Unfortunately for my body, my brain won’t shut off. The craziness of tonight seems to have broken my off-switch.
“Your style has nothing to do with me,” I reply, rolling to my back to create some distance between us.
Dante’s palm shoots out to latch onto the curve of my hip, squeezing the flesh there. It feels like someone has struck a match under my skin and I flush.
I hold my breath without thinking, waiting for his response, unsure what kind of reaction I’m hoping for.
“According to whatever higher power we just said our vows to,” Dante continues. “I have everything to do with you.”
“We don’t have an audience in here, Dante. You don’t have to pretend.”
His body lifts slightly. “Who says I’m pretending? What’s wrong with having some married fun?”
Everything.
Except that would only be true if there were feelings involved, right? And there are none.
Zilch, zero, nadda, nope. No feelings here.
I will never ever fall for this man. He’s a murderer, an asshole, and way too broody for my taste.
I prefer guys who actually enjoy things that don’t have anything to do with blood or violence. Guys who don’t go around waving guns in people’s faces.
“Nothing if you actually want to be here,” I grumble on an exhale. “I didn’t ask to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night like a hostage.”
“And I wasn’t about to let Liam put his fucking hands on you just to rip your trust fund away and leave the States. I already told you that.”
“Don’t make it sound as though you’re a Boy Scout, Professor . You don’t get a merit badge after this.”
“And here I thought you were a princess, sweetheart. That would make me Prince Charming, right? I thought he gets a lot more than a badge in his story.”
“If you think I’m going to fuck you?—”
“I don’t have to think, Victoria, I know,” he glares at me, slowly reverting back into the asshole I’m more than familiar with. “If I wanted you like that, you’d be riding my cock right now.”
“Bullshit, professor. We’re not even on the same level.”
“We’re not,” he agrees immediately. “You couldn’t keep up with my ass if you tried. You can’t study that kind of chemistry, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter how much mediocre porn you watch in your free time.”
My body shoots into a sitting position, ready to— Well, I don’t know, but I want to smack the living shit out of him. His superiority is more than infuriating and I am far from clueless about sex and the ways of the world. “I’m sorry that I don’t have forty years of life behind me, you washed-up mobster. But I’ll have you know I’m not some—” I’m on my back within a split second, tossed down by Dante before I can process his movement, setting my head spinning.
His grip closes over my right wrist, forcing it over my head and pinning it into the pillows. I freak out, and with my other arm still free, I crack my palm sharply against Dante’s cheek and the sound echoes in the harsh silence that follows.
The burn of that slap tingles in my own skin.
However, I don’t have time to wince or rub at my red flesh because Dante is fighting me for control. His long, thick fingers latch around my left forearm, trying to drag it above my head to trap both of my wrists. He settles his weight over my hips, keeping my thighs pinned beneath him. Still, I manage to jab my knee into his ass, knocking him off balance just long enough to rip my left arm free again.
Shoving at his chest, I think I have him for a moment, but something inside him comes alive and that’s when I know I’m no match.
Dante secures himself back over my body, his knees on either side of my hips, and it’s clear he doesn’t have the patience for any more games when he expertly takes hold of my arms and clamps them above me in one hand.
“Are you done with your temper tantrum, princess?”
“ Screw you,” I spit out, arching up in protest. “And get off me.”
“Now, now, princess,” he taunts me easily. “That’s no way to treat your husband on our wedding night.”
I attempt to wiggle my body out of his hold, but it’s obvious I’m truly stuck underneath him. “You’re not my husband. This isn’t real.”
“It’s real in the eyes of Father Charles.”
“I don’t care what some priest thinks. You’re never going to be my husband and I?—”
“Calm down, Victoria,” Dante orders, using his free hand to brush my hair away from my face. “There’s no need to get hysterical.”
There’s no need to get hysterical.
Right.
Because we’re both trying to convince ourselves that after we pay this Italian mobster we’ll be in the clear. We’ll be able to freely live our lives. That I won’t ever have to watch my back again.
My sense of security is gone. The idea that six million dollars will fall out of the sky without my having to get pregnant is a pipedream. Even if it did, I don’t feel safe here anymore. How could I? Angelo Lombardi knows who I am. He knows my family has money. What happens when he decides six million isn’t enough, that he wants more?
“I want out of the States,” I stammer, a sob working its way up my throat. “I want to go to Paris. I can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen?—”
“You’re not going to be here if we pay him back,” I retort sharply. “We’ll get a divorce, go our separate ways, and he’ll still be here. He knows who I am. What if he tries to ransom me to my family for more money? I don’t have my passport yet and I can’t get out if he?—”
“ Enough ,” Dante bites out before the pad of his thumb skims along the side of my cheek. The touch doesn’t soothe away the chaos in my head. My life as I knew it is gone. The risk is too high, not only for me, but Ellie, too. We live together, were seen talking to Chase together, and no one will believe she doesn’t know what I’m up to. Neither of us have the resources to keep Lombardi at bay unless we involve the cops.
Even if we did, I doubt it would make a difference. Any help they could give would be too little, too late. Because if a mob leader senses cops closing in, wouldn’t he just off them or something? Or the person who snitched to them in the first place? Mobs don’t tolerate snitches, they handle them.
Dante’s weight suddenly lifts from my body, coming to rest against my side as he releases my arms and hooks an arm around my waist. I roll towards him, my hands gently falling to his shoulders. His hand slides up my body and I try to enjoy the sparks of awareness dancing under my skin. Eventually, his palm comes to rest on the side of my face, his thumb stroking back and forth across my cheekbone as he forces me to look at him in the faint light.
“Why Paris?” he gently asks, not pausing in his rhythmic stroking.
“It’s…beautiful.”
“It is.”
I almost grin, latching onto the quiet assurance in his voice. “You’ve been there?”
“Once.”
“For what?”
“Don’t ask.” His vagueness dismisses the tiny bit of glee I felt and my muscles tense. Dante notices, and he pauses a moment before continuing our conversation. “What are you going to do there?”
“Nothing.”
“Victoria…” he warns, unwilling to accept the same non-answers he insists on giving me. “You can’t expect me to believe that you’re just going to gallivant around Paris without a plan.”
“I have a plan.”
“And what’s that?”
“Nothing that you need to worry about.”
“I’m worried as shit about it.”
He’s not.
And he won’t get me to believe that he is, either— ever .
“When this is all over, I’m going to make sure you’re okay before I leave,” he vows simply, undeterred by my silence.
“I don’t believe you.”
“How should I prove my loyalty, princess? I already saved you twice. What more could you possibly need?”
“For you to not need me ,” I answer honestly. “To know that I’m not some pawn you can use to get out of a situation I had nothing to do with.”
“I don’t need you, princess, that’s the thing,” he divulges softly, cupping my cheek with his hand. “I have a passport. I could’ve gotten out of here and gone back to Italy, no problem. But I stayed. I stayed because I didn’t want to see an innocent girl get bogged down in mob shit that she had no part in. I know what happens to loose ends, what happens to the women involved on either side of these things. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“Why?” I can’t help but ask. “You can’t stand me.”
“I can tolerate you.”
I bristle a bit at that. “You may have made the wrong choice, Dante. My trust fund can’t get us out of this. Not all the way. Not without…”
“I have an idea for the last two million. We have a month. In the meantime, I’ll work for Angelo to keep him off our?—”
“ No ,” I blurt out. I don’t want to see him hurt or arrested. And now Dante knows just how twisted up I am over him. “You can’t.”
“I’ve been in a mob before, princess. I told you?—”
“You don’t know this man,” I retort. “He could pin you for something. He could use you as a scapegoat. I don’t want that.”
“Something has to give, Victoria. I can’t expect him to wait around forever. Angelo was furious when he found out that you tried to get a new identity. He has eyes on us.”
Defeat falls over me again, a suffocating blanket. I messed up and there’s no denying that.
“Tell me what you’re going to do in Paris.”
I roll my eyes and sigh but I continue to stare at his chest. “The real dream is to eventually open my own bakery.”
“How? Aren’t you majoring in music at Thronewood?”
“I am. But I’m minoring in business, taking as many classes in that department as I can. My mother and father don’t know. Thronewood has great programs for both. And I’m also going to the local community college. Graham has a solid culinary program and I’m learning the fundamentals before I can get to Paris and find a pastry school.”
“That explains why you’d appreciate a good knife.” He chuckles.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind. How do you manage to get to all those classes? I’ve never seen you?—”
“I’ve managed to basically split my schedule. I pretty much only take morning classes at Thronewood and I cut a deal with the registrar at Graham to make sure I get the first crack at all the afternoon and evening classes there?—”
“What kind of deal?” Dante’s voice dips into a dangerous growl, but I ignore it. I wish the goosebumps that just formed would disregard it, too.
“Two grand.” I glance up at him, letting him see the truth in my eyes. “Money talks, Dante. You know that. And as long as I tell my dad I’m using the money for clothes or makeup, he’ll load whatever I ask for into my account.”
He stares at me for a moment and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But I’m sure I’ve managed to surprise him.
“You’re something else, princess.” I open my mouth to tell him that I’m fully aware I’m amazing, but snap it shut when he commands, “Now go to sleep.”