“Leave the girl, Tommaso, she’s only here because she needs to learn about her future,” De Rossi says, his sneer making his handsome face even more threatening as he takes me in with those cold, dark eyes. It’s as if night has taken up residence in his heart, and he no longer feels anything.
Dead inside.
“Let’s get to it, shall we.” He pulls out a thick envelope from his jacket pocket and sets it on the table before my uncle. I can feel eyes on us. I want to turn around, to see who’s watching, but I don’t. I’m not sure if De Rossi has bodyguards in the club, but my intuition tells me they’re close by.
The opulence of the club belies what truly goes on inside. Tommaso opens the envelope, and I drag my attention back to the table to see him pull out a contract. On the top of the first page are the words Contratto in Morte.
My heart thuds against my ribs. My palms are sweaty as I rub them on my thighs. I glance at a few words. My name is clear on the white page, but it’s the words beside it that make my breath catch.
…Luna Isabella Cavallone, to be wed after her eighteenth birthday.
“What is this?” I finally speak, and Enzo’s brow arches in question. A man of slight movements that could probably make weak men cower. But I’m not a man, and I’m certainly not weak.
“This, my dear, is your future,” Tommaso tells me as he turns to look over at me. His hand poised, the pen ready to sign on a dotted line that will seal my fate. Only, it’s not what I want.
“Why are you doing this? I can’t marry him!”
“Lower your voice,” the order comes from Enzo, his tone holding a silent threat that sends ice through my veins. “Your father understood he would lose everything when he came after my family, and when we paid him back for his violence, your family murdered my parents.”
“Is this true?” I turn to my uncle, who sits quietly, making me think he’s heard it all before. “Is this true, zio?” My voice cracks on the Italian word for uncle. My pleading tone doesn’t even make him flinch with guilt. My father wasn’t a good man, not by any means, but for him to do something like this to me. I’m not the enemy, and I’m certainly not one of the members of the family that wasn’t loyal to him. To our name.
“Mattea left me in charge,” Tommaso tells me as he scrawls his name on the page. “And I am only doing what is best for you.”
“Best for me?” My voice raises a few octaves, causing the other men in the club to turn toward our table, interested in seeing what’s happening. “This isn’t best for me!”
“Tommaso,” Enzo murmurs, his voice rigid with warning. “You get the girl under control, or I will be forced to do it myself.”
I push the chair back and race from the room. The men who I had been convinced were watching us don’t move toward me as I reach the exit. All the luxury that has been poured into the venue doesn’t change it for what it is. This club is nothing more than a criminal’s playground.
Outside, I make my way to Tommaso’s car and lean my back against it. Inhaling deep breaths, I focus on calming my erratic heartbeat. I’m certain they’ll come after me. He’ll probably have me kidnapped and taken to his home, locked up in a room like some long-lost forgotten princess.
But if that monster thinks he’s going to marry me, he has another thing coming. I’m not going to bow down to him, even if he is a Boss. My father would roll in his grave if he knew what I just did. It didn’t matter what I wanted. Once an agreement or contract is signed, there is no backing out.
The only way to get out of this life is to die.
Would he kill me?
I don’t know how much time passes, but when my uncle finds me, I’m slumped on the ground, my head on my knees and my arms wrapped around my legs. I’m shaking as the cold has now slowly sunk deep into the marrow of my bones, and I doubt I’ll ever be able to get it out.
Tears have long since dried on my face, and when I glance up, I see guilt written all over my uncle’s face. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugs, buttoning his suit jacket as he reaches for the car key in his pocket. “It wasn’t my decision, Luna.”
My brows furrow. “Of course it is, you’re my guardian,” I insist, but he’s already shaking his head before I can finish my sentence. Tommaso holds out a strong but wrinkled hand to me. I accept, but release it the moment I’m on my feet. “What’s happening? Why do I have to marry Enzo de Rossi?” My questions hang in the air between us, a reminder that my father is no longer here. If he were, I would be privy to what had been agreed and why. But then again, I ran out of the club before I could learn the truth.