Chapter 23 Three Days
I was awake before dawn, sitting rigidly on the edge of my bed, seething.
I didn't move for hours. Just sat there in the grey pre-dawn light, my jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack, replaying everything that had happened in the alcove over and over in my mind.
He'd touched me like he owned me. Like my body, my responses, my very breath belonged to him.
And the worst part was that I’d let him. I’d said the things he wanted to hear because his hand had been squeezing my thigh and I’d been drowning in sensation and fear and something I absolutely refused to identify as desire.
And then he'd just... stopped. Called Claire like I was a problem to be managed and then forgotten.
I hate him, I told myself fiercely.
I hated his face and his voice and the way he looked at me like I was something to be conquered.
A knock on the door interrupted my internal tirade.
"It's Claire," a small, nervous voice called from outside.
"Come in," I called back, forcing some semblance of calm into her tone.
Claire peeked her head inside, her big brown eyes cautious. "Mr. De Santis wants to see you. In his office."
Of course he did.
I felt anger spike through my chest. “Did he say what it's about?"
"No, miss. He just said... he said to fetch you."
Fetch me? Like I was a dog to be summoned and paraded around at his convenience.
"Thank you, Claire," I said, standing up and smoothing down her clothes. "I'll be right there."
Claire bowed nervously and disappeared.
I took a moment to breathe, before I made my way to his office. By the time I reached the heavy wooden doors, I’d composed my expression into something neutral.
I didn't bother knocking, just pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
Giovanni was behind his desk, looking devastatingly put together in a dark suit, his dark hair still slightly damp like he'd just come from a shower.
Enzo was lounging in one of the leather chairs across from him, a coffee in hand.
The moment he saw me, Enzo's face lit up with a smile and he gave me a casual wave.
I returned it with the barest tilt of my head, a half-hearted acknowledgment.
Giovanni didn't look up from the papers spread across his desk. "Close the door."
I did, my movements stiff with controlled anger.
"About last night-" I started, my voice was sharp.
"Last night," Giovanni said smoothly, finally looking up at me with those unreadable grey eyes, "you wore a dress that wasn't appropriate, and then had the audacity to be upset when I corrected that behavior."
"Corrected?" I hissed, my eyes narrowing into slits. “You mean manhandled me in a hallway like some kind of-"
"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to something dangerous.
Enzo cleared his throat loudly, suddenly very interested in his coffee. "You know what, maybe I shouldn't be here for this conversation. I'm just going to..." He started to stand.
"Stay," Giovanni commanded, his eyes never leaving my face.
Enzo settled back into his chair, looking deeply uncomfortable.
Giovanni set down his pen with deliberate precision. "Our wedding is in three days."
The words hung in the air like a grenade with a removed pin.
I stared at him. "What?"
"Three days," he repeated, as if I was simple. "We'll be married."
"No." The refusal came out immediately. "No, absolutely not. The contract is enough, why on earth do we need to do a stupid-
"The contract you signed includes a wedding," he cut me off calmly, picking his pen back up. "Having a legal marriage doesn't preclude an actual ceremony. In fact, I insist on one."
"You insist?" I laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "You don't get to insist anything with me. I'm not some possession you can just… just decree into existence. I didn't agree to a wedding, I agreed to a contract."
"The contract specifies marriage," Giovanni repeated flatly. "All aspects of marriage, that includes the ceremony."
I felt something crack inside my chest. "I'm not doing this. You can't force me to—"
"You're done," he said, not looking up from his papers. "You can either leave my office and prepare yourself for the next three days, or I can have you removed. Your choice."
The casual dismissal infuriated me. I stood there, seething, waiting for him to look at me, or have some acknowledgment of the conversation we were having.
He didn't give it to me.
After a long moment of silence, he glanced up briefly, his expression granite-hard. "I suggest you choose quickly. I don't enjoy wasting time."
The coldness in his voice made something inside her snap. I’d never felt hate like this before, it was pure, and all-consuming.
"Fine," I spat. "Absolutely fine. Do whatever you want. You're no different from my father. Worse, actually. At least he had the courtesy to pretend he gave a damn about what I wanted."
I turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
Behind me, I heard Enzo wince audibly.
I walked through the hallways furious, my fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms.
He was nothing but a monster who used people like chess pieces and discarded them when they were no longer useful.
What did I even expect from him in the first place?
I climbed the stairs to my room, my mind whirling with different thoughts when it hit me like a wall.
A wedding.
The words echoed in my mind, and suddenly the pieces fell into place.
The blatant lie that a wedding was stated in the contract.
The wager in the training yard and the way he'd said if he won the spar, we would "consummate our marriage."
Had he actually tricked me?
"That conniving bastard," I breathed, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway.