Arranged love

She slaps me again.

This time, I grip her face, spin her around, and slam her back into the wall. Her eyes widen, and she gasps. Her hands come up and grip my wrists. “Luca …”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Haven,” I growl in her face. “We can do this one of two ways. One, you cooperate, and I’ll treat you well. Or two, you be a fucking bitch, and I treat you like one. Do you understand me?”

Her pretty dark eyes fill with tears. I watch one fall down her flushed cheek from her run. She’s so beautiful. She always was. When other girls were spending hours on their makeup, she was throwing on mascara and lip gloss and called it good. She has a little freckle on the right side of her upper lip, and I loved to run my thumb over it. Her amber-colored eyes and chestnut hair make her stunning. She is what a man dreams of. I know I always have. That’s why I never let her get too far away. There were many times she tried to break it off with me, but I wouldn’t let her. I am Luca Bianchi, and I always get what I want. Even if I have to lie, cheat, or steal for it. She will be my wife and the mother of my children.

“Luca,” she whimpers.

“Do you understand?” I shout, losing my patience. I don’t know why she’s fighting me on this. She should be thanking me. I saved her father. Her future. She would be out on the streets with them within a year at the rate he was going. He’s in deep debt and was about to lose everything before I stepped in. They were days away from their Victorian mansion being in foreclosure. Her father had several of his cars hidden in an undisclosed lot, for Christ’s sake. What would she have done? Where would she have gone?

“Yes,” she whispers as the tears run down her face.

I release her and take a step back. Not even bothering to grab my towel, I exit the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me. I pass by the kitchen, grab the flowers, and throw them into the trash, knowing that I need to show Haven just what kind of a guy I can be.

HAVEN

I stand in the bathroom, silently crying, trying to get my emotions under control. My run didn’t help one bit. And neither did last night. I couldn’t sleep. He had walked out of his room and never returned.

Where the hell had he gone? Who did he go meet? Was it a woman? I hate how much I care to know the answer to that question. And he had recently showered. His hair was wet, and his towel sits at my feet. I lean down to pick it up. Had he showered to get the smell of a woman off? Did he use protection?

We both know we’re not marrying for love, so it wouldn’t surprise me to know he spent the night with someone else.

I open the shower door and turn on the water. I step in and allow the scalding hot water to burn my skin. To cover my tears. What will my life be now? How long until he gets bored with me? Before he throws me away? I didn’t get to read the contract. Did it have a clause where we have to stay married for so many years? And if so, how many? I don’t know a lot about the Mafia, but I’m pretty sure the only way you can be free is if they die. And even after that, your life is still devoted to the Mafia.

I take my time in the shower, making sure to scrub every inch of my body. At one point, I sit down and rock back and forth, trying to come up with a plan. But I get nothing.

My name has been signed. The deal is done.

Stepping out, I wrap the towel around myself and walk into the spare bedroom. I scream when I see a man standing over by the door.

I tighten the towel around myself. “What are you doing? Get out!” I shout.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at me. It’s Nite, standing there like a fucking statue. “Get the fuck out!” I scream.

He ignores me like he always has. Huffing, I storm over to the door and yank it open. I run up the stairs and into Luca’s bedroom. I hear water running in the bathroom, and I yank it open. He stands at one of the sinks, bent over, his hands splashing his face with water.

He straightens, gripping the towel and yanking it off the hanger next to him, and wipes his face. His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “What do you want, Haven?” he asks with a growl.

My jaw tightens. “I want you to get Nite out of my fucking room.”

“No.”

“No?” I gasp. “Is this a joke?”

He turns to face me, and I stand my ground as his eyes bore into mine. “This is very real, Haven. Nite will accompany you at all times from now on.”

“Luca …”

“And no more morning runs.”

“You can’t be serious?” I growl. He’s going to make me a prisoner. His plaything that will only be meant to satisfy him in the bedroom. The other ninety-five percent of the time, he will run around on me with whoever he pleases whenever he wants. We’re going to be just like his parents.

He shoulders past me and back into his bedroom but doesn’t answer me.

“Luca?” I snap as he enters his walk-in closet.

He stands with his back to me in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He removes a black button-down from a hanger and shrugs it on.

“I’m talking to you,” I seethe.

He removes a pair of black slacks from another hanger and goes to step into them.

I yank them from his hands. “Listen to me.”

“I don’t listen to nonsense,” he says calmly and takes the slacks back before sliding them on.

I stand before him stunned. My heart pounding with anger and my jaw tight. I watch him tuck his shirt in and then button them up along with the zipper. And I wonder what he’s doing. Where he’s going. I had only gone for a thirty-minute run, and he wasn’t here when I left. I checked like the sorry piece of shit woman I am. A million different scenarios went through my mind. All of them involved a woman and him in bed together.

“Leaving already?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. He wants me to be his wife? I can be the most annoying, intrusive, demanding wife possible. He’ll want to pay someone to take me off his hands.

He looks up at me. His brows creases at my question. After a long beat, he answers. “I have work to do.”

Cryptic. No surprise there. “Work or someone?”

The corners of his lips turn up, and my breath hitches. Why did I ask that?

He takes the five steps, closing the short distance between us. Reaching up, he pushes my wet hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Are you jealous, Haven?”