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Chapter Two

COLETTE

Standing in front of my father’s desk, I wait for his instructions because I am under no illusion that he wants to actually speak to me for any other reason than to demand something from me.

That is just who he is.

He uses people for his own gain, for the Bellucci family’s gain.

And he’s going to speak to me, which does not mean I will be speaking to him. That is another part of who he is. He doesn’t care if that person is his daughter or a stranger off the street.

Nobody is safe.

We are all just pawns to him. Whether it is because everyone around him is scared of the power he yields or just plain scared of what he could do to them or the people they love, he gets away with it all.

“The wedding planner will be arriving tomorrow for a sit-down consultation with you. I’ve already discussed the size of the reception and given explicit instructions on the church that will be used,” my father announces.

I stand stock-still, unsure of what to think, of what to say… but wedding ? I’m not even divorced yet. I didn’t know I was even getting a divorce. My father showed up in North Carolina, had a meeting with Merrick, came out and told me that it was done and demanded I leave.

My life has been nothing but moments of things that have happened to me. Only twice did I attempt to take my life into my own hands, and both times, they backfired. So, I’ve become a silent participant in my own life.

Obviously, that is not working out in my favor, either.

Honestly, I would rather just be on the sidelines.

I wish he would just let me exist in the shadows and forget about me as a whole.

I tried marriage, and it wasn’t something that I was good at, apparently, because I’m back here in my father’s home and not with my husband. I would rather watch the world around me than participate in it from now on.

I think that plastering myself to a wall and observing life would be better than being active in it at this point.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I move the skin back and forth a few times as I try not to respond to my father. He doesn’t like being questioned or even looked at inquiringly. What Adriano says is what happens, and that is the way it is.

“The marriage will be annulled before the new ceremony. This will be for the better, Colette, and he doesn’t mind that you’re not a virgin. He prefers it, actually.”

My eyes widen, a reaction that I cannot contain quickly enough. He sees it, and I watch as his own expression darkens instantly. Sucking in a breath, I take a half step backward. He stands so rapidly and moves toward me that I can’t even think fast enough to run away.

Before I realize what’s happening, his fingers are curled around the front of my throat as he walks me backward, my head slamming against the wall behind me and bouncing once. My father’s angry gaze meets mine, his lips curled up and snarling before he speaks.

I don’t gasp or show any reaction because I know it would just spur him on. He would like it too much. Instead, I stare at him, waiting for him to kill me and get it over with already. It would make everything a hell of a lot easier.

I’m not really doing anything with my life other than sitting around and waiting to be told where to go and what to do, anyway. It’s a miserable existence, and the few months of freedom I had solidified just how damn horrible my life is with my father.

“You will do what is required of you, Colette,” he snaps. “The man you are to marry will be a better benefit to the family. You will give him what he wants.”

“Yes,” I rasp.

I don’t bother asking him why my actual husband wasn’t going to benefit the family enough in the long run. He wouldn’t tell me anyway. Instead, I wait for him to finish his intimidating tactics. Only when he feels as though he’s made his point clear does he release me and take a step backward.

Lowering my gaze to the floor in an attempt to show my submission, I wait for him to finish whatever it is he wants to finish saying so that I can be dismissed to my room. It's the only place I can breathe, if only slightly.

“The man has promised a great deal to the family. He is somewhat of a politician and well respected, though I’m not sure why because he is anything but a good man. You’ll do whatever he wants. He is going to do wonderful things for me.”

There it is.

He is going to do extraordinary things for Adriano Bellucci, the only person he cares about in this whole world—himself.

I nod once, but my father makes a tsking sound. I know what he wants. He wants my verbal compliance. I don’t want to give it to him, but I know that if I don’t, he’ll force it out of me. Being choked once in a day is enough for me, so I give him what he desires.

“Whatever he wants,” I rasp.

“Good,” he grunts. “Now get the fuck outta my office. I can’t stand the sight of you.”

His words don’t affect me the way they used to. There was a time when his saying those words would have made me cry. Not anymore. I would have to feel something for him to allow him to hurt me, and the only emotion I feel for this man is disdain.

Turning from him, I walk toward the door, where I know his man is standing on the other side and has likely listened intently to every word he said to me. Reaching for the knob, I wrap my fingers around it and start to turn when my father calls out my name.

“Colette.”

Turning my head, I look over my shoulder back at him. His dark gaze finds mine, and I know that whatever he is going to say next is aimed at maiming me. I brace myself, holding my breath before he speaks.

“You look exactly like your whore mother.”

And there it is.

Another cut at me. It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing left of me anyway. My father has sliced every damn part of my body with his words. This is just something else he enjoys saying. He loves reminding me not only how horrible my mother was but also that he’s the one who got rid of her.

Instead of responding, I turn my head around, face the door, and tug it open. Marcello is exactly where I thought he would be, standing beside the door, having no doubt listened to every word my father said.

He takes a step forward, and I follow behind him. Once he’s in front of my bedroom, he reaches out, extends his index finger, and slides it from my shoulder to my elbow. I know he’s trying to be sexy, and I can’t deny he’s a good-looking guy, as far as my father’s goons go, but he would be dead if he touched me any more than this.

“Marcello,” I warn. “He will kill you.”

Marcello hums. “Between the fucker that married you and the one that’s chomping at the bit to marry you, I’m guessing sinking inside of that golden cunt would be worth dying over.”

“Marcello,” I exhale.

His lips twitch into a smirk as his gaze searches mine. “Will you say my name just like that when my cock is buried inside of you?”

This would be sexy as hell if I weren’t half in love with my husband and half terrified of my future all at the same time. But even if none of that were the case, I would never jeopardize one of my father’s men’s lives like that again.

“I’m going back into my prison cell,” I say. “Go find someone who won’t get you killed.”

I reach for the handle and push it down to open the door, then step inside. Closing it behind me, I lock it and walk toward the window. I’ve never felt more like a princess locked up in a tower than I do at this moment.

A Mafia princess.

With blood on her hands.

Definitely not a Disney princess.

MERRICK

There is a loud banging sound on my front door, and I don’t bother standing up to answer it. Anyone important has a key to my place. If they don’t, they can fuck off. The last time I answered the door was when I was fucking served .

So I won’t be doing that shit again.

When the front lock unclicks, I know it’s someone I know. One of my brothers, considering they’re the only ones who have access to my private home, just like I do theirs. I hear footsteps behind me, and then he stops.

“You’re alive,” Grayson announces.

“I’m alive,” I confirm as I reach for the bottle of whiskey beside me.

I don’t bother pretending with a glass any longer. Instead, I am drinking directly from the bottle, and I like it. Actually, it reminds me of the days after we escaped, were freed, whatever the fuck we did. I’m still not even sure if we escaped or if we were let go because we were no longer desirable.

Desirable.

What a fucking joke.

Teenage boys being desirable to men makes me fucking sick to my stomach. I want to scream every time I think about it. Throw shit around the room and scream—every goddamn time. I want to destroy people. I want to kill. And I will, one day. They will all fucking die.

“And you’ve holed yourself up for what reason?” he asks as he walks around my chair and sinks down in the one across from me.

Jerking my chin toward the envelope, I watch as he reaches for it and slides the papers out. His eyes move over the document, then his brow lifts before his gaze flicks up and finds mine.

“An annulment?” he asks. “Didn’t her own father catch you fucking her?” he asks.

I let out a chuckle, but it’s goddamn humorless because none of this shit is funny at all. “He did. I thought that his taking her was just a flex of the muscle. I didn’t expect this.”

“Does this mean you’re done with the Mafia?” he asks.

I snort. “It means that he’s done with me or whatever he thought that I could offer him,” I say.

Grayson shakes his head, his eyes finding mine. “Which makes me wonder if he’s got other plans for Colette.”

“Without a doubt, he does,” I confirm.

He presses his lips together, rolling them a few times before he continues. “You’re good with that?” he asks. “Because I’m sure that the annulment means there is another marriage in the future.”

He didn’t even have to say it because that’s all I’ve been thinking about. Adriano would not demand an annulment if he didn’t have a plan in place. Hell, he wouldn’t have come and got Colette if he didn’t have something in the works.

“Are you suggesting I stop it?” I ask. “That could start a war. She’s out of my bed and my hair. I should be fucking happy.”

“Except you haven’t signed this. Instead, you’ve been sitting in this chair drinking for God knows how many fucking days.”

He’s right.

I don’t know how I feel because feelings aren’t something I’ve allowed. But I would be a liar if I said I didn’t miss her around the house. I’m also filled with regret that I didn’t treat her better. I should have. I liked Colette. Forced into marriage or not, I liked having her around.

I especially liked having her in my bed.

“What do I do?” I ask. “Fight it? That motherfucker is going to bury me in paperwork and probably have me knocked off while doing it.”

Grayson watches me for a long, silent moment. I take another drink from my bottle, then set it down as his gaze bores into mine. When he’s finished taking me in, in silence, he clears his throat before he speaks.

“Do you give a shit about her?” he asks.

I could lie. Hell, I should lie, but I don’t. Instead, I tell him the truth. “I don’t know her enough to give a shit about her,” I state. He arches a brow, his lips twitching into a smirk. He doesn’t say anything else, but I, for whatever reason, continue speaking.

“But Colette Steele is mine. She’s my goddamn wife.”

Grayson lets out a chuckle. “I thought you might say that. Since hunting down Ravet is on hold, I’m thinking we start fucking with the Mafia.”

“I’m thinking that sounds like a damn good idea,” I growl.

Grayson calls a meeting for the next morning. I would rather do all this shit on my own, but the last time I tried to do that, I ended up with a wife who I didn’t want, and when I decided that I might want to keep her, said wife was taken from me, so maybe it’s time I call in my brothers for help.