Page 17 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

Sabrina .

"Like bloody hell I'm going to your club tonight." I gripe, following Parker through the threshold. As always, the house is spotless, a soft echo in the foyer as I kick off my shoes and throw off my coat and beanie.I’ll get it later.

Fuck I'm already sore and I'm still sweaty.I need a cupcake.

"It's a charity event."

I roll my eyes. "Big bad gangsters holding a charity? I doubt it. Tell me, what is it? Toy Guns for Tots? "

"Didn't know you were funny,” he chuckles darkly, but I can tell it’s sarcastic.

"You don't know anything about me, Maksim," I say, making my way to the kitchen to find Parker already at the coffee maker. Bless him. "You're an angel, Parker."

Behind me, Maksim grunts. I turn to face him. "You're still here? I said no."

"It's a boxing match. The money goes to rings around New York so underprivileged kids can learn basic self-defense. Stuff they don't teach in schools."

"Give me a number, and I'll write you a check. I'll even phone Raven and she'll be more than happy to write one as well. But I'm not going."

He sighs. "The other capos are going to be there. I need to be able to introduce you as my soon-to-be wife."

"What's the catch?" I ask, grabbing the mug of coffee Parker is holding out to me and taking a sip.

Perfect, every time. See? He's an angel.

.. with the body of a demon, that man. Nothing but sweet, sweet temptation.

Christ, that first morning before our run, when he opened his door shirtless and sweat was slowly rolling down his defined pecs, and down the valley of a very defined abdomen, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

Saliva had pooled under my tongue, the need to lick up around his Adonis belt had caused those sleeping pink parts of me to perk up and do that thing again, and when he spoke in that slight southern drawl, that was somewhere between a purr and a low whisper, it was the first time in a long time I thought about climbing him and sitting on his face so I could feel him purr against my clit.

I'm sure Maksim would be a lot more attractive if he weren't so ghastly.

I realize he still hasn't answered me, but his eyes do follow my tongue when I lick off the bit of whipped cream on my upper lip.

"Can't you take one of the escorts to this thing?

I promise you're not hurting my feelings.

Take any of your whores. All of your whores. Your entire harem."

"Christ, Sabrina, this is a wives thing. You should want to be there for this. Isn't charity your thing?"

"I'm not your wife yet, Maksim, and I also believe I said I would write you a check."

"And I said the other capos are going to be there with their wives. It's a perfect opportunity for you to become friendly with them."

"I already have friends."

"Who? Parker? The living dead girl?" He spits condescendingly.

Motherfucker. "Her name is Raven . And don’t be rude. Even silent, she’s livelier than you."

"Fine, Raven, whatever."

"You still haven't told me what the catch is."

He inhales sharply, then looks up at the ceiling as if searching for patience. He does that a lot around me.

It tickles me.

"Only Parker, your parents, my second, and us know this is an arranged marriage. You would need to... seem very in love with me, and I you. So wear a long-sleeved dress because I will have my hand on your hip, and I will be touching you."

That's... considerate but still.

"Mmm..." I take another sip of my coffee as if contemplating it, then brush by him. "Pass."

"Goddammit, Sabrina."

"Trust me, Mr. Giordano, I’m not very good with large crowds, and I believe the last thing you want for anyone to see is your soon-to-be weak wife."

"Fucking hell, Sabrina," he growls, grabbing me by the elbow. My hot coffee sloshes between us, landing on my hand and wrist. I drop the mug, and it shatters on impact.

"Ouch! "

What happens next is so fucking fast I can't help but stare with wide eyes.

Parker has him by the collar of his pristine button-up and his gun under Maksim's jaw, but he doesn't even look fazed.

His brows are drawn up in concern, but his eyes are on me as I shake off my hand, flexing my fingers.

It burns but thankfully there was enough cream in there to have cooled it down. Not enough, but some.

I pretend not to hear when Parker whispers, "See? Not even safe from you."

"Let him go, Savage. I'm fine. Nothing a little cortisol won't fix.

" I sigh, sad that I can't enjoy my coffee any longer.

"I'll think about it, Maksim. This is obviously important to you and what kind of wife would I be if I can't put away my own feelings to make my husband look good?

This is one of those events I'll be forced to attend annually, I'm guessing? "

He clears his throat but I'm no longer looking at him, making my way to the kitchen to grab paper towels to clean up the mess. "Yeah."

"I'll need a list of dates for the future. I don't like things to be thrust upon me like this. I need a few days to be able to get into the headspace you'll need me in." I throw away the soaked towels and go back to pick up the broken mug, careful not to cut myself on the smaller shards.

"That... can be organized." I can feel his eyes boring holes into the side of my head, but I ignore him, keeping myself focused on the task at hand.

Parker comes to help me, sweeping up the small pieces into a dustpan.

I still don't meet Maksim's stare; I simply supervise with a hand on my hip and watch Parker.

Watch the way his strong, long, tatted fingers move so gracefully to clean a mess he didn't cause.

That's a mouthful, isn't it?

I hold in my sigh, hold the way my fingers tremble in need of touching him, to thank him, to embrace him. The prickling feeling in my stomach tells me to find a way out of this marriage contract so he and I can be alone forever. Together.

But that's selfish of me, too.

Weak .

He needs and deserves a woman that can more than tolerate a touch to the elbow. He needs a woman that will love him as fiercely and as passionately as he is quiet. And that's not me.

Will never be me.

I'm too damaged. Too broken. Too… much . I'm so much, I won't be enough for him. I won't be the good things he deserves.

There's a part of me that believes the before me would've made him happy.

Before me could stand it when he would tug me off some guy's lap by the middle, reveled in the way his strong, thick forearms were always so warm. And now I swear every time he looks at me there’s a dash of pity in those mix-matched eyes of his.

I finally release that sigh in the direction of the man that deserves my ire, my fiancé, still not daring myself to look at him.

How can I? Every time I look at him, I think about that penthouse, cold, devoid of color and feeling.

Like the diamond on my ring, it's sleek and pretty, cut to mirror the life we'll share - cold .

Devoid of feeling. Just another shiny, pretty thing that hides what really goes on.

I couldn't help the overwhelming sensation of foreboding and doom that filled me when I'd walked through it when I dropped off his cupcakes. It was the same feeling that flooded me the day my father told me about the agreement.

I had to leave. I had to get out. I had to run before the anxiety thwarted outwards and I caused unfettered havoc and broke every expensive brilliant thing in his penthouse. Which wasn't much.

I know what he saw when our gazes clashed as I pressed the button for the elevator to go down.

Weak .

I decided then and there this man will never have access to me. Not my mind. Not my heart, nor my body. He can think whatever he wants about me. Other than three-point-three million dollars - I don't owe this man a goddamn thing.

But the one cleaning up the mess on the floor? Parker?

He deserves it all.

Trust me, I've called my mother countless times to try and have him fired, but he simply takes the phone away from me, greets my mother, lets her know I’m trying to rid myself of him haughtily, rolls his eyes at me, hangs up the phone, then leaves and comes back with the most absurd cupcake he can find.

He’s infuriating.

One of the many reasons I love him. Need him.

I snap my eyes back to Maksim when I realize I haven’t responded and sigh. "Thank you, Mr. Giordano. Please have Jonathan contact Lily so she can fit them into my calendar. I'll do the same and have Lily send it to Jonathan."

"Sabrina-"

I wave my scorched hand in the air to shut him the fuck up.

"I ask you to keep your hands to yourself when you're around me.

As you can see, I am a weak woman, and unfortunately, my weak skin burns easily.

You can go now, Mr. Giordano. I need to tend to this before it blisters.

" I start moving away from him and to the dark stairway .

"You'll be there tonight?"

"Unfortunately," I call back from the landing, then continue up.

I roll my eyes when the front door slams and enter my bedroom.

Cockwombles.

The dress I chose is black velvet, full length, and hangs off my shoulders, going into a sweetheart neckline with a slit running up my left thigh to the crease that meets my hip, the rest of it hugging my curves.

It isn't long-sleeved, as my fiancé suggested for me to wear, but I am wearing matching gloves that go all the way up and past my elbows.

All areas covered in touching regards. The necklace I'm wearing is rose gold, and a single pink diamond pendant hangs from it.

I chose to wear my hair in a 1950s glam style with the left side pulled back by a pink Swarovski crystal clip, the rest falling in waves. Winged eyes, pink lips.

On the outside, I'm flawless.

On the inside, I'm rioting.

Nerves wrack me, wreck me, ebbing and flowing, waiting to disintegrate me into a ball of chaos.

Parker waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. He's not coming with me, which is probably why I feel like this. He spends Valentine’s Day having dinner with his little sister, Rory. He tried to get out of it, but I wouldn't let him. I adore Rory and they need to spend time together.

There's a knock on the front door, and Parker holds out his elbow, which I take. Before either of us can open the door, he surprises me by kissing my temple.

The act is so small, and what should have me crawling under the table, makes me gasp. I tilt my head back to look up at him, those mixed-matched eyes making my heart pound. "I'm a phone call away."

"I know."

"You aren't weak, hellcat."

I huff out a laugh. "I think I'm more upset that I didn't bake today."

He grins, those incisors of his a little too large but goddamn, he's a beautiful man. "Bake for me tomorrow?"

I nod once. "Is Rory staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," and then there's another knock on the door. “I… I put earplugs in your clutch. In case you need them.”

I smile up at him when another knock sounds. God that man is relentless.

"I suppose it's showtime," I rasp, breathing in his mouth-watering scent of rainwater and spice.“Give Rory my love.”

He lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warm hand around me when he opens the door. Maksim stands there, eyes bouncing between us, thumb rubbing his plump lower lip.

The brooding asshole would be attractive if he wasn't so… himself.

Without a word, it feels like I'm being exchanged as Parker helps me into my coat.

The door to the SUV is being held open for us by a tall, lean man in a suit.

He has dark hair and frigid, bright blue eyes, and Maksim introduces him as Niko.

He holds out his hand and I shake it, only for Maksim to take my hand to help me into the large SUV I'm assuming is bulletproof.

Thank God for my coat because the seats are leather.

I lean outwards, facing the window, watching as we leave Brooklyn Heights and cross the lit bridge.

I really don't want to go.

"Sabrina," his dark voice breaks the silence, but I don't turn to look at him.I don’t want to look at him.

“ Weak .”

The word bounces in my brain from left to right, up and down in wild zigzags, pinging against whatever empty corners there are like a logo on a sleeping computer monitor.

"Hmm?"

"I want to apologize… about earlier. I wasn't thinking."

I do my best not to clutch the skirt of my dress so it doesn't crease.

This dress was not made to be sat in for too long.

I'm mostly hoping there's a corner away from the noise I can stand in. If not, I’ll use the wax earplugs Parker put in my clutch. My nerves are eating me alive right now, it feels like little ants are crawling all over me, and I want to go home. Hearing Maksim trying to apologize does nothing but grate on those nerves, and I’m barely hanging on by a thread. "It's fine , Mr. Giordano."

"It's not fine. I didn't mean to hurt you."

While it sounds sincere, I just can’t do this right now.

I can’t listen to his silk voice murmuring so close to me.

I can’t stand it. Can’t stand being in this car with him.

Can’t stand how close to me he’s sitting…

I’m going to lose my fucking mind if he keeps talking.

"Can we just drop it? I have to mentally prepare for this. Is it going to be loud?"

"Yes. Very."

I inhale as deeply as I can, then close my eyes.

I'm a perfect social butterfly. I am so in love with my fiancé.

He is perfect. He loves me. We're so excited to be getting married.

We can't wait. Why yes, we can't wait to have children.

We want four. I love him. I love him. I love him.

I'm obsessed with my fiancé. I can't get enough of him.

He adores me. He treats me like I've hung the moon.

I don't shudder when he touches me. I love his touches. I'm perfect. He's perfect.

I chant this in my head over and over and over again, preparing for when the car lurches to a stop. My eyes open, and we're in front of an old building in the meat-packing district. The lights outside seem to glitter, and there's a queue of people standing outside along a red carpet.

My fiancé loves me. I can withstand his touches .

The door opens and Maksim gets out, holding out his hand to me. I clasp my hand around it as I drop down onto the street.

I'm perfect. He's perfect. I adore him. I love his touches.

I smile radiantly as cameras flash in our faces. I grab the skirt of my dress as I walk, pushing myself forward, one foot in front of the other. Heel-toe, heel-toe.

Flawless.

Feminine.

I am bright, shiny, and pink.

The doors to Eden open and my smile widens.

It's showtime.