I had half expected it to be cold.
“May I speak with you, Rosario? Or rather, may we speak with you?” Lucien said smoothly.
“Of course,” my father said, stepping aside.
I let Lucien lead me into the study. As I passed by my father, he fixed me with a deadly glare. He knew something was wrong and, true to his fashion, he was sure I was the instigator. I shuddered and stepped behind Lucien, unsure why I trusted him more. Perhaps because he hadn’t hurt me yet.
Lucien released me and I sat in the armchair behind him, my heart beating harder than usual. My father went to sit behind his desk and crossed his arms to try to appear more imposing. Lucien, however, stood before him undaunted. Gone was any of the emotion from our conversation in the garden. Now he stood with his back straight and his legs planted apart, arms folded over his chest. Every line of his body was crisp with ice.
I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his face and that strange shiver went through me again. He reminded me of something otherworldly from my childhood story books. I imagined for a moment that he was an ice king and winter blew in on his breath and froze everything he touched. That he would crush anything that stood in his way and grind it to a fine powdery snow beneath the heel of his wingtip.
“Olivia?”
I jumped and blushed. “Yes?”
My father scowled at me, his face a brewing storm. “Lucien just informed me that he wants you to stay at his mansion with him. Do you have anything to say about that?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said.
“She already agreed to it,” said Lucien swiftly.
I opened my mouth to contradict him and shut it. Did I want to go with him? I wasn’t sure. I scarcely knew him, but going with him did sound better than staying here. At least, judging from our brief interaction in the garden, he would allow me to eat as much as I wanted and he didn’t seem inclined to hit me from what I could tell. I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining what it would be like to not live in this house.
No more going to bed hungry. No more stinging slaps when my weight increased by a pound. No more screaming and slamming doors.
“Yes,” I burst out. “I want to go.”
My father’s nostrils flared and he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “This is highly irregular and, if I’m honest, inappropriate of you to suggest, Lucien.”
Lucien stiffened. “I understand that it’s not done, but you know me and you know I won’t touch your daughter before the wedding.”
“So why do you want her there?”
“With tensions rising on account of the Russians, I want to keep my fiancée nearby. I need to be able to ensure her safety myself. For my peace of mind, no slight to you.”
My father’s expression changed from anger to irritated concern. “What will people say?”
“The hell if I care, and I know deep down, neither do you,” Lucien said. “Neither of us need to answer to our men and you know Romano won’t give a damn if she’s living with me. Just as long as I marry her.”
There was a faint threat to his last words and I knew my father heard it too because his mouth tightened and he leaned back in his chair. His fingers tapped on the desk and his jaw worked.
“You’re threatening our alliance over this?” he asked coolly.
“I would never,” Lucien said softly.
His tone belied the exact opposite. His posture and expression were unreadable and his powerful body, though relaxed, carried a hint of a threat. He had my father dangling on a string and he knew it, but he was too careful, too intelligent, to speak those words aloud. Threats were crude and beneath him.
I swallowed, realizing he wasn’t the same sort of made man as my father and brother. Men like Lucien Esposito didn’t have to put their threats into words. Instead, they hung around him like smoke, etched in the relaxed lines of his body and the faint smile on his mouth.
My father killed with gore and gusto, painting his power out plainly in blood for all to see. But Lucien…surely he came in the night like a shadow, like a draft of icy wind, and slit the throats of his enemies with a gentle sigh.
My stomach turned. This man was my fiancé and he was here to take me away to a world where he was king. Where I would be his wife and let him touch me and bury himself between my thighs at night. A strange, tingling shiver went through my body. This time it was warm and a little excited. Beneath my dress, my sex gave a quick throb and I clenched my thighs together surreptitiously.
No, I wouldn’t allow myself to want him.
My father lifted his head, his eyes glittering. “Fine,” he said. “Take her, but once she’s there, don’t bring her back. And you will marry her. I don’t care the state she’s in when you get her to the alter, just make sure that you do it.”
I gasped, unsure how to feel. Was I relieved to be leaving home or was I terrified to be going away with Lucien? Or was it both? I dug my nails into my palms and squeezed my eyes shut. I hated this, hated not having any say over my fate.