CHAPTER 7
Ihate him.
He says he wants me, but he only wants my body. It was obvious that he would do anything to have me for himself—even kill my husband. What kind of sane person would buy another?
When my father told me I was getting engaged, I thought it was a deal between families to keep traditions.
He had taught me that since I was a child.
He raised me to be a good wife. I was preparing to marry Declan Byrne—who is now my sister’s husband, because I was no longer worthy of him after the kidnapping.
When Dante appeared at my wedding reception, I ran to him.
I wanted to ask him what was going on, why I had married Stefan instead of him, and why he had just cheered for us with a smile on his face.
.. but my father stepped in front of me and told me everything I needed to know.
He showed me texts, the money they had exchanged, and the money Stefan paid to marry me.
Then I texted him, desperate because I had no one else, and all I got was a text message telling me to get over him because... I was disgusting.
My heart broke. I wanted to hear it from him, but everything I heard was worse. Everything he told Stefan about some kids and what he did to them. I heard him. I still had faith in him—until I heard his words. Until I heard how he referred to kids. To me.
I cried for three months, every night, for the rest of the honeymoon, while he was looking for someone else to break her heart—or so I heard.
Now he says he wants me. What does he expect? For me to fall for him again? To melt? To spread my legs for him? He can go to hell.
My father may sell me as if I were an object, but I will not allow them to play with me again, nor with my heart.
If he wants something from me, he will have to force it.
“You’re a psycho,” I say through gritted teeth.
He’s about to speak when the doors next to me swing open, and a man in uniform walks in. He turns to look at us and blushes.
Oh, bloody hell. I’m in the tiny pyjamas Dante left in my room!
As soon as the jerk moves away from me, I cover myself in a not-so-subtle way. I shouldn’t be here—how embarrassing!
I start walking out of the room, but Dante grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him.
“I’m not done with you,” he whispers, then turns to look at the man.
Both start talking in a language I don’t recognise. After a few seconds and a nod, the man leaves.
I let go of his grip as if it were burning my skin.
“Don’t you ever—”
“Those bruises you have—did he do that?”
I lower my gaze to my body.
Crap. All the marks he left on me are visible because of the damn dress. I was so tired when I put it on that I’d forgotten about them.
“I didn’t—”
“And yet you think you were better off with him?”
I huff. “I’m not better off anywhere. I just want everyone to leave Finn and me alone!”
I turn around to go to my room.
“You’re not allowed to leave the grounds yet, but you can go outside for some air,” he says in a nonchalant tone. “Someone will bring food to your room, also for Finn. My mother wants to help you; she—”
“If she raised a man like you, I will not accept her help.”
I slam the door behind me and run upstairs.
Greta is playing with Finn, talking to him in Italian while my baby boy laughs. My stomach clenches.
She’d be his grandmother if Dante had truly loved me.
But he didn’t, so get over it.
“Hello again,” she says when she notices me.
“I would appreciate it if you stopped coming near my son. The same goes for yours.”
Her expression drops as she forces a nod and stands up. My heart squeezes as he walks to the door.
Before leaving, she says, “Give him a chance.”
“Goodbye.”
Sighing, she closes the door, and I run to lock it.
I hurry to hug Finn. While I stroke his head, he wraps his little arms around my neck.
He is okay. We are okay. He only fed him. He didn’t hurt him.
Yet.
Tears spring from my eyes. I am sick of living this way: afraid, trapped, relying on others’ decisions.
I walk to the window and fix my attention on Dante, who walks to the same black car that brought us here. He exchanges a few words with Alonso, and they both nod.
His gaze meets mine. A smirk creeps across his face, and I get goosebumps.
He waves goodbye. I shut the curtains in response.
Dante does not deserve me. And I do not deserve a traitor.