19. Forgive Me, Father #2
The latch clicked. The panel opened. And there he was.
Santino filled the narrow space with his broad frame, immaculate in a white shirt.
His intimidating presence consumed the space that seconds ago had been my false sense of safety.
I was about to scream, but then our eyes met, and I lost the ability to function.
Light from above him stretched across his handsomely rugged features, making his inky black hair glisten.
His jaw was tight, his dark gaze burning, and I could already feel the fury radiating off him.
But then his eyes travelled over my face beneath my veil, and they softened just a touch, which was more dangerous.
In that split second, I saw myself in his eyes.
He thought I was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
“You threatened Callum’s life.” My voice shook as I finally regained control of my vocal cords.
“Yes.”
I almost laughed, because who the hell is that honest about murder? Who just comes out and admits to something so barbaric?
“Will you really kill Callum if I go through with this wedding?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I mean every word I say to you. If you marry Callum D'Ardenzi, he will have a bullet in his head before the day is over.”
My lips trembled because there it was. The truth of who he was. I was looking into the eyes of a man who had no qualms about taking a human life.
“You can’t do this.” I shook my head, still unable to tear my gaze from him. “You don’t own me, Santino. I have a choice.”
“I’m giving you a choice. Marry him, and people will die. Marry me, and everyone will live. Those are just consequences.”
My mouth dropped open as I stared at him, searching for any sign this was a joke. Of course, his expression remained stony and calm. The picture of a man who ruled with fear and would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
“Marry you? You can’t be serious. You’re insane.”
“We established that a while ago.”
“I won’t marry you!” I glared at him, anger rising. “But if I don’t marry Callum, you’ll leave him alone, right?”
He cocked his head to the side as if considering it for one minuscule second, then said sharply, “No.”
“If you even touch Callum, you’ll be the prime suspect. You won’t get away with it.”
He smirked, and I swallowed hard. He leaned in, resting his arm on the divider between us.
“You underestimate my skills, Little Rebel. Maybe I’ll make it look like a suicide, a heartbroken man whose fiancée left him at the altar.
Or… maybe I’ll expose the unhealthy relationship he has with your father and paint a pretty little picture. ”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your papi is Callum’s puppet, Aria. How do you think his campaign for mayor was funded?
Perhaps…” He twisted his lips. “Your papi got sick of being his little bitch boy and decided to get rid of him now that he’s achieved his goal.
It wouldn’t take much to plant the murder weapon in your papi’s house. It would almost be too easy.”
Bile rose in my throat. “You’re a monster.”
“Yes,” he agreed softly. “But I’m still the only man who would do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Don’t make me do it the hard way.”
He stood up, left the cubicle, and opened mine.
I turned, my gaze running down his tight white shirt, smart trousers, and polished shoes, while he took in my dress.
He threw his head back, slammed his hand on his chest, bent his knees dramatically, and let out a very seductive moan that shot straight between my legs.
“Cazzo,” he groaned. “You look like something men would go to war for. Oh, wait…” He gave me a disgustingly filthy smile and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
My head swam. My legs felt restless, as if I were about to sprint for my life or leap from where I stood and wrap them around his waist. No. NO. Not the latter.
A knock came from behind the door, and my eyes widened. Santino stepped straight into me, wrapping one hand around my mouth and the other around my lower back, pressing me against him.
“Aria?” It was my papi.
“What’s it going to be, Bella Ribelle?” Santino whispered, his eyes glittering with a dark thrill that promised pain or pleasure. “Ready to admit you’re mine?”
I was shaking with fear at what would happen if I refused him. I’d spent too long giving this man the benefit of the doubt, believing he wasn’t who they said he was. But I’d been a fool. He was capable of anything. And I couldn’t be the reason an innocent man died, and my father was framed.
“I’m not yours,” I hissed. “But I’ll do it if you promise to leave my father alone.
” His eyes lit up, and a slow smile teased his lips.
Then he grabbed the wrist of the hand carrying my bouquet and dragged me towards a fire exit.
The sun blinded me before I could even comprehend that we were outside, and I was struggling to keep up with his fast strides through the graveyard in my heels.
I noticed a slumped body against a gravestone we passed and gasped when I realised it was the priest.
“Did you kill the priest?” I shouted at his broad back. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze flicking towards the body before he met my wide eyes with a smirk.
“Of course not. He’s just taking a nap in the sunshine.”
“You are going to hell, Santino Buccini!”
“That’s afterlife problems.” The asshole found this so amusing.
That’s when the enormity of the situation struck me. What the hell was I doing? Leaving my wedding with this insane criminal? I grabbed his wrist with my free hand and tried to pry him off me, but he was so strong.
“Get off me!” I hissed, resisting every step. “Help!” God only knows where he was going to take me. Perhaps the whole marriage thing was a lie, and he was actually taking me hostage to blackmail my father, torture me, or kill me. Oh God. Oh God!
“Don’t bring out that rebellious side now, Amore,” he chuckled over his shoulder. “We don’t have time for it.”
“Let me go!” I shouted, dragging my nails down his forearm over his shirt to hurt him.
He spun to me, crouched, then flung me over his shoulder and stormed through the gate towards a parked Bugatti.
No matter how much I punched his back or kicked his stomach, he seemed completely unaffected.
His body was forged from bloody iron. The car door opened, and he dumped me into the passenger seat, shoving the tulle of my dress into the car so it covered my head.
I ended up in a tangle of my veil and dress, fighting my way out of the cloud of white when I heard the door slam shut.
Then he was in the car next to me, starting the engine.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Let me out!”
I dived for the door handle, but I couldn’t find one. What was with these new, insanely expensive supercars and their confusing features? Why get rid of bloody door handles? Perhaps it was voice-activated.
“Open the door!” I shouted as Santino ignored me and sped up down the rural streets, heading back towards the city. “Car, open the passenger door now!”
Santino scoffed. “What are you doing? If it were voice-activated, it wouldn’t listen to you.”
I huffed back into the seat, leaning against the door to put as much distance as possible between us. My eyes frantically searched the interior for anything I could use as a weapon. I had nothing on me, not even my phone. Allegra had it all.
The only thing I still had was my bouquet. The flowers wouldn’t protect me, but they might distract him enough to make him stop the car. In a sudden rage, I started beating him around the head with the lilies and roses.
“Ah, fuck,” he laughed, doubling over the steering wheel, one hand raised to protect his head, which only made me see red as I unleashed all my fury with every hit.
He grabbed the stems, lowered his window, and then tossed them out onto the road without the car swerving an inch.
A frustrated noise tore from my throat, but another, much better idea came to mind.
I rummaged through the tulle to find my feet and yanked off one of my heels, holding it up, ready to strike.
His dark eyes slid my way as he suppressed his amusement. “Now, you’re really turning me on.”
“Let me out, or I’ll stab you with these six inches!”
“Only six?” he tsked. “I think we’d both prefer it if I stabbed you with my nine.”
I swallowed, my thighs squeezing together at the thought. Absolutely not. “You and your ‘nine’,” I said, using air quotes, which made him smirk. “Won’t be coming anywhere near me. I hope you are prepared for a sexless marriage.”
“That’s not what you confessed. Unholy thoughts about me? Please elaborate.”
“Go to hell!” My fingers tightened around my shoe, my body vibrating with the urge to make him hurt, yet too fearful to go through with it. He might actually kill me then.