My eyes, nearly swollen, burning with tears, looking at Dante, his eyes hard as he gives me a look that makes me sob again.

Sighing, he steps in closer, taking my face in his hands as he makes me look at him. Vision blurry and his image shaking as more tears fall down my face.

“You are marrying me, Ilaria. But I need to do this business to guarantee that I will be the one at the end of the altar waiting for you. I need to do this to keep you safe. But I will call you as soon as I can.”

He is confusing me.

I don’t understand what his veiled speech meant. All I knew was that he had pushed me away as I cried and it hurt me. Even as he touched me now it wasn’t enough an I needed him to give me more of him.

His thumb swipes at the tears I have falling and I lifted a hand for his face, rubbing over the beard that was in the shadow of growing.

“I want to go home with you, Dante. Please. Please can I go home?”

His eyes close like the words were an attack against him.

Every time I said please and home he flinched like it was a punch landing straight in his face. Seeing him fight the rage of not being able to give me what I wanted sent shivers down my spine and I whimper trying to get out of Francesco’s arms and back to Dante.

I want Dante.

But he steps back, leaving me with another man as he walks to his bike, shoving his helmet on. Not even giving me the satisfaction of an answer.

“Keep her safe, Francesco.”

And then he was gone.

I whimper as I watch the way he fades from view and frozen in horror that he had just left me there. After I had begged him to take me home he had rejected it.

Did he not think that we shared a home? Did he really think so little of me that leaving was easy for him?

I had given him too much of myself and this was my punishment for feeling.

“Are you done making a scene? Can you climb back up your ladder and hide away all night with your little friends?”

He was setting me on my feet as I shook, unsteady from the burst of emotions. Francesco frowned, steadying me with a hand on my hips as he took in my appearance, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

But what sense could he make?

I didn’t even fully understand what was going on. I was just overwhelmed with this need for Dante, wanting to feel safe. He was where I felt safe and he had left me with Francesco instead of staying and letting me feel protected. Dante had left me in the hands of another

And what he had said to me.

Francesco looked at me, he was waiting for me to ask but I was afraid of what the answer was going to be.

Using words as a weapon was an art form and I was sure that whatever he had meant with his words to me was some form of a masterpiece that I didn’t have time to stare at and pick apart.

“What did he mean about guaranteeing it was him at the end of the altar? What the hell is going on?”

Francesco shook his head as he lit a cigarette, looking at me as he locked his lips and leaned against the house as if he was taking stock of me. It wasn’t a good look, not one where he wanted to consume me.

It was like he was stuck with me and trying to figure out what to do.

“If your boy can’t get the Cartel situation handled you’ll be marrying me, little queen.”

My blood runs cold as I look at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying to me.

And then I remembered the contract that I had signed, the stipulation that I was marrying someone that our parents chose for us. It wasn’t Dante’s name on the line but there was the understanding it would be him.

If Dante failed the family my father wouldn’t let him marry me If he felt like he couldn’t keep me safe he would pick someone else. And my father made it clear by having Francesco here, in our home, that he trusted him.

My stomach knots and I blinked watching him.

Oh Fuck.

“What if Dante fucks me first? You can’t take a ruined bride.”

Francesco laughs at this, literally shakes his head as he steps forward, his hand running through my hair as he grips the back of my head, tilting it back so that I’m forced to look at his pale green eyes.

Double fuck.

“Ilaria, Dante won’t fuck you. He is a stickler for rules. It’s me that you should be worried about ruining you because if I get the chance I’ll pop that cherry of yours and bottle up your virgin blood with my cum as a wedding gift to my cousin.”

My thighs ache as my body deceives me. Fucking Francesco is too hot and when he is talking dirty to me. That just-

“But we both know that won’t happen. You love Dante.”

And at his words my body reacts violently.

I’m puking on his shoes as Francesco lets go of me leaping back as my insides empty of all the junk I’ve been eating for the last 24 hours. The word love hitting my gag reflex and making everything come up.

Love? No. I don’t love Dante.

I swipe a hand over my mouth, taking in a shaky breath as I look at a very pissed off Francesco.

“I don’t believe in love.”

He shakes his head, pulling out a handkerchief square from the pocket of his jacket, bending down to wipe at the shoes that I just ruined.

Serves him right.

“You might not believe in love, little queen. But your eyes when you look at my cousin tell a different story. You better hope he solves this problem because you’ll never get a look like that from me. You might not believe in love but me, I destroy it. I actively seek it out just so I can break it apart. Maybe that’s why you’re attractive to me. I just want to break you.”

And he turns, leaving me outside of my fathers house as he goes to clean off. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“I thought you left?”

I turn and see Sammie staring at me, then looking down at the pile of vomit that is beside me with her nose scrunching up in disgust at the mess I made.

“I’m headed to the casino to meet someone, do you want to come?”