Chapter 3 #2
Mmhmm. Fuck my life. I suppose I’m going to need to bring forward the date of this wedding so I can ensure my bride-to-be lives through it. The only caveat Don Accetta has is that Rosalia turns twenty-one before it happens. I am exactly ten years her senior.
God, I feel old under the mantle of my own responsibilities.
“You’re very vulgar, principessa. Is this part of your not-so-pretty parts?”
“Perhaps. I grew up with men who use women as commodities to be used up and thrown away. My own mother and stepmother are buried beneath these rose bushes. Now, bel ragazzo, we need to keep moving or I won’t be able to later. Don’t break the bride-to-be that your inheritance is riding on.”
“Since I need to ride you to be able to cash in on said inheritance, I suppose we should.” I’m purposely crude as I step back, and her cheeks flush pink as she returns her gun carefully to her thigh holster.
“For the record, everything that comes out of your mouth is highly concerning. I need to know how difficult you’re going to make this. Are you attracted to men at all?”
The way she speaks about men tells me more than anything she could say. I don’t know anything else about who or what she’s attracted to. Rosalia hasn’t perfumed for me, nor has she shown me anything other than abject contempt when she reacts at all.
Now, I’m not saying I’m an insane catch, but I do tend to turn heads. I need to know if she thinks I smell bad or if she prefers the company of women. This is bruising my ego a bit, despite my own preferences for cock over pussy.
“What I prefer doesn’t matter when people insist on taking things not freely offered,” she says simply, fluffing out her skirts.
My veins fill with ice as I crowd her space again. I may prefer my hot stepbrother to the little omega in front of me, but protective instincts I didn’t know I had are welling up inside of me.
What the fuck is going on in this family? I know all about shitty family dynamics, but this one might take the cake.
“Put the knife away,” she reminds me, ignoring my close proximity. “Remember to smile as if I’ve done something to please you. I really don’t care if my father thinks I sucked your cock. Your sour face is going to—”
“I dare you to finish that statement,” I growl, my pheromones surrounding us as my anger sparks.
Rosalia raises her chin in defiance, without a single ounce of fear. She seems completely unbothered by the heat of my anger, but then, she is her father's daughter. Living day in and day out with Don Accetta means she experiences scary shit every day.
I probably don’t even rank in the top three.
“Move,” she says simply. “That’s the only thing I need from you.”
“You’re fucking impossible. Is this what you’re going to be like as a wife?”
“I plan to be worse,” she replies. “I hope you enjoy sleeping with one eye open, Nicolai.”
“Nico,” I growl.
Her hand shoves me back, and I take a step back to allow her to escape.
“Rosa.” If she’s going to fuck with my name, then I’ll do the same.
“What?” The word is barely whispered, her foot already at the edge of the bushes, where there’s undoubtedly more video cameras.
“Don’t get killed before our wedding day, please. I’m enjoying fighting with you.”
“Get fucked.”
My lips twitch as I follow her out of the rose bushes and back toward the house, my hand slipping my knife in my pocket as I walk. Her father is waiting there, well before the end of the hour his brother gave, and it seems suspicious. There’s something strange about this family.
I feel as if I’m both saving her from them and condemning her at the same time, and it’s going to weigh on my mind.
“Did you enjoy your visit, Nico?” Don Accetta asks coolly. “You disappeared for a decent amount of time with my daughter.”
Rosa licks her lips coyly, and I decide to lean into this. I don’t approve of any of this, but a dead bride doesn’t do me a lick of good.
There’s not a trace of blood on her skin, as Rosa is meticulously careful about her details. It’s clear in how she walks and speaks. This is the armor of someone who knows that anything else could lead to being hurt or killed.
I’ve tried to listen to the chatter surrounding the Accetta family, but all I’ve been able to gather is that his daughter is the apple of his eye and his ruthlessness is unmatched. There are rumors he may have killed his previous wives, and Rosa as much as confirmed it earlier.
“We had a lovely time, sir. I think I’d like to move up the timeline for the wedding after seeing how beautiful your daughter is.
Do you think we can marry the day after Rosa’s twenty-first birthday?
I can’t remain away from home for very long, as there are things that need my attention.
You know how it is,” I say smoothly with a smile I don’t mean.
“You wish to marry early?” Don Accetta frowns, his eyes moving up his daughter’s body. There’s nothing he could possibly find distasteful about her demeanor or clothing, so I don’t understand what he’s looking for.
It’s done in a calculating, non-sexual manner, but it still makes goosebumps raise over my skin.
I may not know this girl from Eve, but this house is fucking evil. I am beginning to doubt my previous thoughts that she was being dramatic. Throughout his perusal, Rosa remains still, waiting for him to finish. Her eyes are almost glazed over, as if she’s disassociating from this moment.
Goddamnit. Why me?
“I am a man of means, I can get a wedding together in my city in two weeks,” he muses. “Rosalia, just look at you. It seems your beauty and verbal prowess has landed you a husband. How lucky I am to have such a perfect daughter.”
Rosa’s fingers flinch at her side, and I only notice because they brush mine. Electricity slides up my veins, and I can’t breathe without wanting to take her hand. Fuck it.
Quando si è in ballo, bisogna ballare. My fingers thread through hers, protecting her from prying eyes. She’s silently breaking, and we’re in this together now. I need her for my own reasons, she will be mine, and I protect what belongs to me.
Even if I don’t fucking understand why. Ugh, my head hurts.
“Such a happy couple already,” the don murmurs. “Why don’t we have her wedding on her birthday? It’ll be a wonderful present for my daughter.”
Rosa blinks hard, and her hand squeezes mine in a rare show of vulnerability.
“I love that idea,” I lie. “I’ve always thought of myself as a gift.”
I mean for it to be a joke, and Rosa’s lips twitch slightly before she releases my hand.
“I’m honored,” she rasps. Whatever she did to her voice is beginning to bother her again, and I decide to end this dangerous conversation while I’m ahead.
“Thank you for your hospitality, sir. May I come by another time?”
“We’ll see. Absence may make the heart grow fonder. There is much to do before the wedding. It’s late, my daughter needs her beauty sleep,” he says, snapping his fingers for us to follow him inside.
The way he speaks about Rosa is beginning to freak me out. When we’ve spoken before, there was affection in his voice, even while he was making choices for her.
My father may have been a closet dirtbag, but this goes beyond that. I don’t know how to process Don Accetta’s current aloof attitude toward his daughter. What’s different now than before, and is the real version of my future father-in-law?
The things I’ve learned of late about my father are a firm reminder of the darkness that lives in men’s hearts. I need to be more alert and focused on what people show me when they let their guard down.
The truth lies there. It has to.
“Then I must insist on speaking to her on the phone,” I say, my feet echoing across the house as the soles strike the marble floor. “Two weeks is the bare minimum I want to wait.”
“Pussy trained already?” Don Accetta teases, rolling his eyes. “You didn’t disappear for nearly long enough to deflower my daughter.”
Ew. Why did he have to say it like that? I’ve never had sex with a woman before, much less “deflowered” them. My gag reflex threatens to act up before I swallow hard.
I can think about sex mechanically as far as having children, but anything else is too much to ask of me.
“Nothing untoward happened,” I say stiffly. “May I call Rosa before the wedding?”
We’re speaking about her as if she’s not here, but she’s the one who responds to me.
“I don’t have a phone.” At my surprised glance, she shrugs. “I am around everyone who would ever need to call me.”
I’m not certain if that’s true or not, but it doesn’t matter. This gives me my in.
“Any wife of mine needs a phone for the social life I expect her to have. I’ll send one to the house as an early birthday present. I refuse to take no as an answer.”
I’ve tried very hard not to make any demands up until now. With the exception of moving up the wedding date to Rosa’s birthday, I’m done dancing to Don Accetta’s tune.
“My daughter will be pleased with her gift. Good night, Nico.”
I nod sharply as I walk toward the open front door, and say my goodbyes. Now, to hope Rosa survives long enough to say her vows.