Page 5 of Do It For Me

Dante brushes my hair away and cups my cheeks in his hands.

Oh God. He’s going to kiss me.

He’s. Going. To. Kiss. Me.

This will be my first kiss… my firstproperkiss.

My breath hitches as he caresses my cheeks and smiles, but he doesn’t lean closer. Why isn’t he kissing me? He won’t know if I’m good at it unless he does. He’ll be so disappointed if he doesn’t find out until the wedding.

“Everything your parents made you believe, you must forget,ragnetta. I’m not like them.”

“Are you worse?”

I mentally facepalm. My father always told me to think before I speak, but apparently, I can’t even manage that.

Dante laughs softly, shaking his head. “I want to keep you safe. To do that, I need you to trust me.”

“I… I can’t trust you. I just met you.”

He pats my head.

Pats. My. Head.

“That’s why we’re going to spend a lot of time together from now on.” He offers me his arm, and I hesitantly take it. “Consider me a friend.”

“A friend I have to kiss?”

“A friend you’lleventuallykiss, yes.”

I sigh, glancing up at him. A wide grin spreads across his face.

“Do youwantto get married?” I ask.

From what I’ve heard, people my age don’t want marriage. If they do, it’s because of an arrangement like this.

He’s good-looking, he has a job, and he must have money. Why would he want this? Or is he as stuck in this as I am, all because of our parents? Shoot, is his father an arsehole too?

“I want to do whateveryouwant to,amore,” Dante says. “But yes, I do want to marry you.”

I blush, and my heart pounds hard in my chest.

“Why?”

He looks at me with calm, steady eyes. “I know the way he treats you,ragnetta. And the only way to get you out of here is to make you mine.”

To make you mine.

But then…he’llown me. And everything will be the same. A cheating husband—a beating husband. Me, spreading my legs for him. Him, using me until he breaks me or gets bored. Filling me with his babies.

Nausea strikes again.

“You want me to get you out of this house, sweetheart?”

Yes, but I don’t want to get married. Damnit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I want to leave?”

“Be a good girl, püppchen,”my father’s voice reminds me.