Page 144 of Vicious Intentions
No. No. No. No. No.
What if that’s exactly the reason behind his doting stares? Because he thinks this marriage is real, and that when we get home… we’re going to… Well, he can’t make me.
Matteo stole you from your home and turned you into a Donato, didn’t he?
Would stealing your virginity really be any harder for him?
Unwilling to look at his stupid, handsome face a second longer, I snap my head away from him and pretend to stare out the car window instead.
If Matteo plans to consummate this marriage, he’s in for a rude awakening. He can’t make me do it. And if he forces me, then that will only prove exactly what he is. Husband or not, only a monster would force a woman to have sex with him. That’s rape. Clear and simple. There’s no other word for it.
Fear begins to seep into me at the thought.
God, please protect me. Please keep me safe and away from my husband.
Please…don’t let tonight end in a nightmare.
“Anna? What’s wrong?” he asks softly, as if in sync with my every thought.
I don’t answer.
“Anna,” he repeats, sliding his hand over mine. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Again, I don’t offer him a reply. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not when I’m too consumed by the feel of his hand over mine. I hate how easily his touch soothes something in me when it should do the very opposite. I hate it almost as much as I hate the way my name sounds falling from his lips.
Why does he affect me this way? I don’t understand it.
“I want to hear you say it,” I whisper once I’ve gotten a hold of myself. “Tell me again that no one I love will get hurt. Tell me that I didn’t just betray my whole family for nothing.”
Something shifts in his pitch-black eyes as he squeezes my hand ever so gently.
“You have my word, wife. I will protect them as if they were my own.”
“Even if the Outfit invades your city? Even if they attack theCosa Nostra?”
“On my life. No harm will come to them.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, choosing to believe the sincerity in his eyes.
“Is that all that troubles you? You’ve been tense since we left the reception.”
“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day,” I lie.
“Yes, it has.” He smiles, and I hate how it changes him.
Even the memories I have of him as a child, the hatred I once saw in his eyes, are harder to recall. It’s as if my mind chooses to remember this version of him instead of the man he truly is.
“We’re almost home,” he says, his thumb lightly stroking my hand.
Though it’s dark in the car, I can still make out the silhouette of his hand just fine. Like Raffaele’s, Matteo has the same prominent veins running along it, his cuff hiding how they trail up his arm. What a fool I was to once think hands like his were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I shouldn’t like how they look. And I should definitely not like how they feel.
With that thought screaming in my head, I slip my hand out from under his and place it in my lap, clasping it with my other hand so he doesn’t get any ideas. If I’ve offended him, he doesn’t say anything.
When the chauffeur pulls into a garage, I realize I didn’t pay any attention to the journey here. Which was a phenomenal, stupid thing to do since no one knows when I’ll be able to leave this apartment again. How am I supposed to make my escape if I don’t even know where I am?
Way to go, Anna.
You just threw away a major opportunity because you were too busy lusting after your new husband.
