16

16
Arabella

I exhaled as we got out of the cars lined up in the parking lot. My heart hammered in my chest just like it always did whenever I was around Marco. There were at least seven more men carrying heavy weapons.

I had never walked in the company of men like this, but as the capo’s bride-to-be, I had to. Now, there was a target on my back.

I bowed my head as we walked toward the high-end store. A large glass window displayed timeless designs. The old me would have been thrilled to go shopping, especially in an expensive place like this.

My back turned rigid when he put his hand on me again, sliding over the curve of my hip, fingers pressing in as though he was making sure I understood who I belonged to.

The gesture was subtle, meant for me alone, but I felt Francesco watching. He was the closest to Marco, always at his ear, cheering him on.

The amusement in his eyes made my skin crawl with disgust. He was repulsive. There was something in the way he looked at us, like he got off on seeing Marco touch me or hurt me.

I stole a glance at Six; he was walking a few steps behind the group. He stood rigid, his posture straight, his face blank, so blank it made my stomach turn.

He wasn’t looking at me. He hadn’t looked at me once since we left the house.

All my plans to get him alone so we could finish our conversation were impossible. The house had been crawling with men, and I had no idea if he was deliberately trying to evade me because he was scarce.

I was searching for something when I looked at him, a flicker of understanding. A hint of what he planned to do now that he knew my secret.

Would he tell Marco? Would he stand there, cold and impassive, and let me be ripped apart? Or was he just waiting?

The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The moment we stepped inside the boutique, Marco’s presence filled every corner of the space. He was notorious.

The few patrons inside the store exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves. They glanced nervously at our group of mean-looking, armed men. Their steps became hurried, and most of them left the store.

“Hey, who’s in charge here?” Marco yelled.

There were hushed whispers amongst the attendants before a young lady, she couldn’t be more than twenty years old, walked up to us.

She looked terrified, even though she was putting up a brave front.

“Took you long enough...” Marco bellowed and glanced around. “I can have your business burned to the ground with you...” he looked up at the rest of them, “with all of you trapped inside...”

“He’s not bluffing,” Francesco muttered under his breath.

The girl stared wide-eyed and fidgety. “I... I’m sorry...” she stuttered. “We didn’t—”

He shoved her hard to the side, causing her to trip and fall to the floor.

I sucked in a breath.

Francesco leaned in, eyes raking over her. “She’s a pretty little thing, eh? I bet her pussy is tight. Maybe all she needs is a little fucking to get her on her feet...”

The girl’s face flushed. Her eyes flew wide with panic, fingers tightening around the tablet she held.

I stiffened.

Marco noticed.

“Behave yourself, Francesco,” he drawled, amusement laced in his voice. “We are gentlemen, and my wife-to-be is a lady.”

The way he said it, like it was a joke, made Francesco chuckle. His gaze slid to me, dark and challenging. I didn’t look away. I stared him down.

Then Marco’s hand moved lower. He grabbed my ass, making sure everyone saw, then squeezed sharply.

Francesco laughed, and this time, the others joined in. A wave of humiliation crashed over me. I bowed my head, unable to look anyone in the eye.

My nails bit into my palm. I wouldn’t cry. I refused. But my body betrayed me, my vision blurring as my throat tightened.

Only one man didn’t laugh.

Six.

Marco turned to him, grinning. “What? You don’t agree?”

Six shrugged, his expression unreadable.

Marco scoffed. “You should loosen up, man. Go out and have some fun sometimes; it would do you good.”

I forced a breath through my nose, blinking rapidly. I wanted to scream, to shove Marco’s hand off me, to wipe the smug smirk from Francesco’s face. But I swallowed it all down.

I had to survive.

“Bella,” Marco said, his voice smooth, as if he hadn’t just humiliated me, “go on, pick whatever you want.”

I hesitated, glancing behind me, searching for something, reassurance, permission, anything.

Marco tipped his head, urging me forward. I took a step, then another.

And just as I thought I could escape, his voice followed me.

“Follow her, Six. She’s your job, remember?”

I didn’t turn around.

But I felt it.

Six’s presence behind me. Just the man I needed.



Six’s POV

I walked quietly behind her, my eyes boring into her back until we were safely away from them. Then I blurted out, “Your ass jiggles in that dress.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“Keep walking, or Marco is going to think something’s up.”

She didn’t say a thing.

“So, did you pick out the dress on purpose to impress him? Because you sure as hell have all his attention today,” I said, a tinge of annoyance in my voice.

She turned around sharply. “Are you angry at me because he tapped my ass?”

My jaw ticked. “Tapped? Nah, that was a squeeze. A long, hard squeeze,” I answered.

She stared at me in confusion.

I sighed. She had asked a valid question. Why did it bother me that he touched her? It shouldn’t bother me, and yet it did.

“Grab a cart.”