Chapter 7
Seven
Persia
The black SUV glides to a stop in front of the Redthorne building, and I find myself staring up at the same glass and steel tower I fled to seven nights ago when my world first started crumbling.
The irony isn't lost on me. The last time I walked through these doors, I was promised to one monster, and now I'm committed to another. Only, this one wears his danger like a second skin and looks at me like I'm worth the value of this city and more.
Come to think of it, he’s probably right. It’s a little cold to think of myself as an object to cash in on, but it’s the theme of the night and I can’t stop thinking about how much I’m worth to the right person. Or even the wrong person.
A man in a dark suit opens the door, and Rafael steps out first, buttoning his jacket.
My eyes fall to his tattooed fingers and the viper on the back of his hand.
It’s beautiful with its ruby red eyes and elaborate scales.
When the light hits it just right, the skin of the creature shimmers with an iridescent glimmer of red and creamy pearl.
It’s past noon and the sun is moving quickly over the city. The way the golden light plays through his dark hair gives him an aura of softness I know is a lie.
He offers me his hand, and I hesitate for just a moment before sliding my bare palm over his, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into my cold fingers as he helps me and my massive dress from the vehicle.
The white silk of my wedding dress pools around my feet as I stand on the sidewalk, and I'm suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look—a bride without a groom, a woman in a ruined gown standing outside a building that houses both legitimate business and decadent sin.
The late afternoon sunlight catches the crystals sewn into my bodice and throws tiny rainbows across Rafael's chest, and something about that image makes my heart clench in a way I don't want to examine too closely.
My head is telling me to shut up and accept this as a business transaction and nothing more. But the prism of colors glimmering over him has my heart wondering if this could be the start of a fairy tale.
Ha. Stupid heart.
Rafael guides me through the lobby with his hand pressed against the small of my back, and I try not to notice how the security guards straighten as we pass, how the receptionists lower their eyes, how every person in this building seems to orient themselves around him like he’s their king.
They see a woman in this dress and they think we've just been married. But not a soul says a word.
Huh. Well, this is his kingdom, and I am walking into it without any idea of what role I'm expected to play.
That’s not entirely true. I know what he’s going to expect of me by the end of the night. I offered payment, and there’s no way a man like him won’t collect on it.
He releases my hand and brushes the back of my arm with the tips of his finger for me to go before him. It was a simple move, but the current of energy that passes between us draws me up short. I turn, flicking my gaze up to his. The move is so fast, I lose my balance and fall into his chest.
Strong arms come around me and I’m pinned against the mafia king's body. “The last time we were like this, you kissed me.”
I have no idea what makes me say that, but I don’t regret it at all when the corner of his lip twitches to show a hint of a smile.
“Are you always so blunt with your kidnappers?”
A few strands of black hair have slipped from their place to fall over his forehead. Staring down at me like he is now, he looks every bit the playboy if there was a dangerous mafia man version.
He raises a hand and strokes a callused thumb over my cheek. “This makes twice now that I’ve met you and both times your mascara has refused to stay in place.”
At least my lipstick is most likely intact. I pass the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip.
Big mistake. The second his lips are on mine my palms spread over the tautness of his chest.
He draws the tender flesh between his teeth and nibbles on the plumpness before stepping back when there’s a chime.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft whoosh and Rafael places his hand on my waist to guide me inside when a familiar voice cuts through the ambient noise of the lobby.
“Persia? Oh my God, Persia!”
I jump and turn to see Calla and Kiara rushing toward me, their designer heels clicking against the marble floors in a rapid staccato that echoes off the high ceilings.
They're dressed for a party in matching sequined dresses that catch the light with every movement, their hair perfectly styled and their makeup flawless in a way that makes me acutely aware of the mascara tracks still staining my own cheeks.
I gather the long ends of my dress and step out of the elevator before I can think better of it, and Rafael’s arm tightens around my waist in a gesture that feels more possessive than protective.
When I glance up at him, the warmth that was in his eyes moments ago has been replaced by something cold and calculating.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice low enough that my approaching friends can't hear.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly as he watches Calla and Kiara close the distance between us.
“They left you alone at the Scarlet Thorn. In a room full of predators, they walked away and left you unprotected so they could party with men they’d only just met.
” His voice is quiet, controlled, but there's an edge to it that makes something in my chest constrict.
“Women like that see you as someone convenient. Entertainment when it suits them. Not a real friend.”
Sweat dampens my palms and I press them into the copious amounts of silk of my dress to hide the sudden embarrassment. I don’t have a lot of friends but to have the few I do have insulted or judged is also a judgement on me.
His words hit harder than they should, probably because some part of me has always suspected the same thing but never wanted to admit it.
I look at the two women who have been constants in my life since boarding school, at their perfect smiles and their designer clothes and their complete lack of awareness that I was nearly married to a monster today, and I feel something shift inside me.
“Isn't that how you see me?” The question escapes before I can stop it, sharp and accusing. "Convenient?"
Something passes over his face that I can't quite name—surprise, maybe, or something softer that he buries before I can identify it. His grip on my waist loosens slightly, and for just a moment, he looks like a man caught off guard by his own emotions.
But then Calla throws her arms around me, and the moment shatters into jagged pieces.
“Babe, we heard about the wedding!” She pulls back and examines my face with wide, concerned eyes that don't quite reach deep enough to be genuine. “Sorry we couldn’t make it. Mum was there though. She said there were gunshots? Are you okay?”
As Calla stammers on her gaze flicks to Rafael then to the few men he has covering the rear like they are all on the cusp of breaking out their guns and doing a repeat.
Kiara hovers behind her sister, her gaze flickering between me and Rafael, too, with barely concealed curiosity. “We can take you somewhere safe if you need to get away. My father has a place in the Hamptons, nobody would find you there.”
Rafael stays silent, but I can see the pounding of his pulse in the vein in his neck. He’s not happy about being interrupted.
For a moment, I consider their offer. I consider walking away from Rafael Milano and his dangerous promises, from the price of my wish, from whatever cage he’s building for me in his penthouse above the clouds.
I could disappear with my superficial friends and their superficial solutions, and maybe that would be enough to survive.
But survival isn't the same as living, and I’m so fucking tired of just surviving.
Besides, my father would find me and I would be right back at square one with him and Magnus dead set on controlling my life.
At least with Rafael I have some sort of control.
I look up at him, but he’s slipped his expression behind a mask of barely controlled tolerance for my friends. There’s no way he will let me walk out of here.
His arm tightening around my waist again is a silent confirmation.
“I'm okay.” I hear myself say the words and I'm surprised by how steady my voice sounds. “Really. I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Kiara’s face puckers into a frown of worry. “Are you sure?”
She doesn’t look like she believes me.
Calla’s perfectly shaped brows draw together in confusion, and Kiara's gaze slides to Rafael with new understanding dawning in her eyes. They don't know who he is, not really, but they can sense the power radiating from him the way anyone with half a brain can sense danger in a dark alley.
“Yeah, are you sure?” Calla presses, reaching for my hand. “Because we’re your friends, P. We’re here for you.”
“You didn’t care to go to your friend’s wedding, you didn’t care to call her, you didn’t care to forgo your evening out in order to be there for her on her big day.
Your mother did, but not you two. Your feigned worry is…
noted.” Rafael’s square jaw rocks back and forth with palpable irritation, his tone is glacial as he chooses his words.
Carefully articulated or not, his accusation rings hollow in the marble lobby.
I think about what Rafael said about convenience and how my friends left me alone in a room full of wolves.
These women have known me for over a decade, and not once have they ever asked about the scars I hide beneath my clothes, why I am always wearing a shawl or bolero or anything that covers my arms and back.
Nor have they asked about the fear that lives behind my eyes whenever my father's name is mentioned.
And it’s okay. Really. I’m happy that they are so unaware of the ugly world I live in.