Seven

 

Liv

 

The door opened, and she entered first. I didn’t keep my eyes on her long. I knew he was trailing not far behind. I was right. When he entered after her, his eyes immediately found mine. I sat upright, putting on my front. I was Milo Dillinger’s daughter. I grew up in wealth and under the power of a ruthless mob boss in control of the most powerful faction in all of Winthrop. I had nothing to fear.

If only I could tell my body that!

I told myself all this as I sat rigidly straight, watching him grab the chair by the window and setting it right in front of me. He was hardly two feet away when he rounded the chair and sat down on it. I glimpsed him quickly, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps, the way he spread his thick legs apart and settled his elbows on his knees, leaning in to stare at me. His black eyes were endless, his stance intimidating. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. He frightened me more than anyone ever had. More so than Bogeyman, who had done enough trauma in my life.

This man’s gaze was chilling.

I watched as he slowly opened his mouth and spoke in… Spanish. His voice was low and deep. It was a nice smooth voice, to be honest. Not one I was expecting from a man like him.

“You’re scared,” Christy suddenly said, standing by his side, looking down at him, waiting. I looked at her and then him, quickly understanding she’d just translated for him.

Okay, that was interesting.

They observed me, waiting for me to respond, but I didn’t. I kept my gaze fixed to his, even though it made every atom in my being tremble.

I hated that they could see it. They knew I was terrified. I was losing my battle at indifference, and my anger at that equalled my fear.

Still looking back with equal intensity, he said something else, and she chuckled dryly, telling me, “We know you have a voice. It’s one of your defining qualities. Use it, or is your fear stopping you?”

The way she said fear pissed me off. Her condescending tone grated at me. I ground my teeth together, a flare of irritation shooting through me. Feeling my nostrils flare, I retorted, “It’s you who should be scared. My father will burn every inch of this earth to find me.”

I didn’t know if that was true.

I didn’t think my father gave two shits about me.

He probably cared more that I wasn’t present for the wedding and the deal with the Espositos was severed. But adrenaline was doing all the talking now, and I couldn’t resist myself.

“He’ll tear through this place like a fucking hurricane,” I went on. “He’ll kill every single one of your men and make you watch, and then he’ll take his time with you. He’ll make you suffer until your last breath. Do what you want with me but be damn sure of the consequences! He’s a shark, and you’ve drawn blood.”

Jesus, what the hell was I saying? Was that the best I could do? Years of the best education money could buy out the window the second I stood before a thug. It was so primitive of me. I imagined my father glaring at me, loosening his tie in annoyance, realizing with disdain that the tunnel girl could not be locked inside of me after all.

She translated in Spanish to him, and as she did, his eyes still locked onto mine, unwavering as he listened. Jesus fuck, I didn’t know how long I could keep staring back. I felt tremors wrack my body.

Considering my words with a ghost of a smile on his lips, he responded slowly, like he was delighting in his words. I swallowed hard, waiting for her to translate and hating how fucking cocky he looked. This felt all wrong to me. This guy wasn’t one bit rattled by my father, by my words, by anything.

What the fuck does he want from me?!

Tearing my eyes away from him, I stared up at the blonde and waited. She smiled at me and said, “I find that hard to believe when it was your father who sent you to us in the first place.”

I froze.

I froze for a very long time.

Confusion hit me all at once, and I shook my head in disbelief. “Impossible. Look at what I’m wearing,” I snapped, grabbing at the ridiculous fluff of my dress to prove my point. “I was getting married.”

“To the wrong man,” he replied through her.

I scoffed, glancing at the two of them like they’d lost their minds. They obviously had. “I was getting married to Tony Esposito, and my father was going to walk me down the aisle before you kidnapped me!”

“Your father betrayed the Espositos,” he returned just as swiftly through her. “Their strength is waning. The agreement wasn’t suitable anymore.”

Now I was losing my mind. None of this made sense. I would have known if that was the case! Why put me in a goddamn wedding dress in the first place?!

I leaned forward, scared to shit but uncaring when I growled at him, “You kidnapped me! I fail to see how that was a part of my father’s plan.”

When the blonde translated, she paused beforehand, her eyes stuck on him as she explained, “It had to look real, or else it would have raised suspicion. It also set a perfect trap, luring them all to the church. It was the perfect opportunity. The Espositos are being wiped out as we speak. Your fiancé fled and is being hunted down. Your father sent you to us to remove you from danger and to put you in the rightful contract. To your rightful husband.”

It took another moment to absorb their words.

Rightful contract?

Rightful husband?

Breathless and weak, I sputtered out, “Who?”

Though I knew the answer already, and I felt weak in the knees.

His lips went flat. His stare was impenetrable, his eyes steelier than before. He didn’t even respond to me.

He didn’t have to.

The blonde let out a soft sigh and, directing her gaze at me, she said, “You’re staring at him.”

There was a pause in my life right then I couldn’t adequately describe. It was maybe three seconds tops, but it stretched on for me. In that time, I didn’t ask myself any questions. My brain was mute. I imagined it taking a step back, going, “Whoa, whoa, Liv, baby, the ball is in your court. This is too fucking weird for me.” Even my body had gone quiet, like a gentle surrender. For that insanely brief moment, I wanted to laugh. What a fucking joke my life had become. It was funny, really. This was something not even my brain was capable of processing, but my body was catching up.

I was nervous.

I was shaking

I was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

I was also bursting with adrenaline.

I was staring at my future husband, and the wires in my head went poof.

Now that I knew what was at play here, I felt relieved… and a little bold. I knew they weren’t going to torture me, or behead me, or rape me. I wasn’t a form of revenge. If what they said was true – and I had a strong feeling it was – I was just an asset delivered to the new owner, and it fucking killed me.

I fisted my hands and angry tears pricked at my eyes. I could go along with this. Or…

“I’m not going to marry you,” I said slowly, my teeth clenched as I bore my angry eyes at him. “You can go fuck yourself.”

Even the blonde went still before translating. She looked a little nervous doing it, which did little to help my nerves. I knew I was playing with fire. The guy looked like he ate kids for breakfast, and here I was, swearing him off.

His expression still didn’t change. I didn’t know if that was good or worse, but I did catch the tiniest movement of his head tilting to the side. His eyes went darker, scarily so. He didn’t respond to me for some time. The room was thick with silence, the tension immeasurably building by the second. Then, he looked up at blondie, and motioned his head to the door. She was being dismissed.

Why was my translator being dismissed?

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him questioningly. But she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t talk back at him. No, that was what dumb idiots like me did. And now she was leaving me alone with the tank.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

She took off a beat later, and my eyes hardly landed on the door shutting when he stood up from his chair.

My heart skyrocketed.

He took a step toward me. I scooted all the way back in bed, not stopping until my back was flush against the wall. He took another step forward, speaking to me harshly, saying words I didn’t know. But I could tell he was pissed, and what right did he have to be pissed? I was the one being pawned off! I was the one without a say! And goddammit, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time.

“I’m not marrying you,” I repeated, sharper this time. “I think you can understand that, can’t you?” He said something else. “I don’t know what you’re saying!” I yelled, ignoring the way his body moved toward me. He wasn’t stopping. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

He grabbed me suddenly by the leg and pulled me harshly down the bed. It was so abrupt, I felt whiplash. His strength startled me. It was nothing like Green Eyes. It was more.

Much more.

I went to scream when he wrapped his hand around my neck, and that was it. I was lost. Terrified again. I could hardly get air in my lungs as I watched him lean over me, his giant frame covering me. His face neared mine, the tie around his hair loosened and thick tendrils fell around his face, hitting mine. He stared into my eyes, inches from me, close enough his breaths mingled with mine.

His hand hadn’t tightened, it was just sitting there around my neck. Like a symbol. Of power. Of my fear. Of anything he wanted it to be.

Tears fell from my eyes, but I couldn’t stop myself from glaring back at him. My resistance was still there, lingering around the edges of my being, enough for him to see.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, and his eyes lightened, like he was enjoying this. It left as quick as it came though, the indifference – the boredom – returning. He let go and straightened his body. His head turned to the window for a second, and I took that second to look him over. He was too big to fight off. The power in his hand alone stopped me in my tracks.

I was fucked.

He glanced at me briefly, and there I lay, a passing fancy. A crack in the sidewalk you step over or walk on. I felt invisible all over again.

Without another word, he turned around and left.

I didn’t move for hours.