A week?!
It feels like all of the air has been knocked out of my lungs. Had I not been sitting, I think I would likely have fallen down. It sounds like the words of the conversation around me are being spoken through water and it takes me several seconds to process them.
“A w-w-week,” my brother sputters. “Why so soon?”
“We will have all of the technology, domains, and legalities taken care of by then. Then we can start rolling out the second phase of the project, which is where Rothschild's Reads will come into play. We will need your help with identifying and signing authors, as well as editing services for those that we do sign and all of the copyrighting that goes with it,” Don Luciano answers my brother, his tone clipped. “I should think that you would want to get some cash flow into your company as soon as possible.”
Through it all, my father just stands there. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at the floor and waits for the conversation to be over.
There’s a knock at the door, which Dante answers. He’s handed a bag of ice and he walks over to me. He stoops so that he’s eye level with me and takes my hand in his. More tenderly than I would have thought him capable of, he places the ice on my skin. Instead of just leaving me with the ice, he stays there in front of me, holding the ice in place.
I might have mistaken it for something sweet, an olive branch of sorts for us to try to get along in this shit situation that we’ve found ourselves in, but he still doesn’t look at me.
Instead, he turns towards his father. “Perhaps it would be a good idea for me to speak with my fiancé alone. So that we can settle into roles a little easier.”
Don Luciano sends a warning glare to his son. “Make sure that you are both aware of the roles that you are supposed to play, figlio (son).”
“Sì, padre. (Yes, Father),” Dante says, bowing his head slightly towards his father.
The Don leaves the room, followed quickly by my father. Stefan stands there, torn between his loyalty to me as my brother, and his loyalty to the business.
“Stefan!” my father calls.
My brother sends me an apologetic wince and follows my father and the head of the biggest crime family in the city out of the door. Leaving me to my fate.
The second that the door is closed, Dante lets go of my hand as if I’ve scalded him.
I just manage to grab the ice before it falls to the ground and look up to see the hot glare of hatred that is pouring from his eyes.
It makes me pull back as if I’ve been hit, his hatred is that tangible.
“Let’s get one thing straight before we start our marriage,” he says, venom dripping from his voice. “I don’t want this marriage. I won’t be the doting, loving husband that you’ve probably always dreamed of. I will only ever touch you in public and during the time that you ovulate until we can give the old man an heir and a spare. We will have to live in the same house because that is expected, but I will continue to live my life the way that I see fit.”
I may have recoiled from his hatred at first because it was so out of the blue. But now that I’ve recovered from the initial shock, I allow my disgust for the man before me to shine through. “Do you really think that I want to marry you? A trumped up crook who fucks anything with a twat and a nice rack?”
I seemed to have surprised him, if his wide-eyed stare is anything to go by. But I don’t let him recover.
Standing, I throw the bag of ice that he had just moments before put so tenderly on my skin to the floor. “Don’t do me any favors, Mr. Luciano. I want nothing to do with you and I’d be happy to never see your face again. However, it appears that my father has already sold me to the devil and my job is just to survive you.”
I move to walk around him in an attempt to get to the door, but he grabs me by the wrist. It’s the opposite one from the wrist that my father had grabbed, the one that has already started to bruise, despite the ice that was on it before.
The next thing I know, my back is against the wall and Dante has crowded into my personal space. It’s hard, this close, not to see how gorgeous the man is. I can feel the muscles beneath his shirt with the hand that I brought up to keep space between us. His coffee brown eyes are blazing. There’s definitely hatred there, but there also seems to be a hint of challenge and amusement. As if what I just said to him has intrigued him.
Dante’s eyes roam all over my face, his body crowding closer to mine. His hand is still holding mine, raising it above my head and keeping it pinned to the wall. The other hand finds its way to my waist.
If I didn’t already have my opinion of the man in front of me shaped by years of hearing the things that his family has done and the last two hours in his presence, this position would have been a lot more enjoyable. As it is, my body still reacts, my nipples beading into nubs and my panties starting to feel wetter.
He smirks as if he knows the effect that he’s having on me. “Well, aren’t you a bit of a firecracker? I think that I might have liked you if I wasn’t stuck with you.” He pushes away from me and the smirk is gone, replaced again by the blank face he wore in front of my family. He takes off his tuxedo coat and holds it out to me. “Cover up that bruise. Can’t have people thinking that I did that to you. Won’t help the optics at the start of this relationship.”
The second I take his coat, he leaves me alone without a second look.
I’m sitting at the breakfast table, trying to bury myself in my work. I am in charge of author acquisition and public relations at Rothschild's Reads. We’re supposed to have a debut gala for a group of authors that just did some fictional stories about living through quarantine. One is a murder mystery, one is a romance, one is an alien abduction story, and the final is a science fiction book about parallel universes. The gala is in a few weeks and we just had the venue pull out because they just found structural damage all throughout the building.Even though it’s only breakfast, I’ve already been in crisis mode for the past hour when my assistant called me at 6 am.“Call the Botanical Gardens, Julianne over at the events center for Central Park, Kendall at the Angel Orensanz Foundation, and any restaurant that you can think of. I’ll call Emily as soon as I’m on my way to work,” I tell my assistant, Grayson.“I’ll get right on it,” he says, urgency heavy in his voice.“Gray!”
I’m livid. In what world would any self respecting woman be willing to follow this contract? I can’t even look at my fucking “fiancé ” while all of this is going on, or my father or brother. My eyes are solely on Don Luciano in front of me. I know that my face is stony, my eyes flashing with anger. The pinched expression on Emilia’s face lets me know exactly what she thinks about his contract as well. Still, she doesn’t say anything to help me. Stefan starts to speak up. “I don’t think that you can truly expect my sister to - “ “I would like to speak with Don Luciano, my father, and my fiancé alone, please,” I say, interrupting him. “Quinn - “ Father starts, but the Don is the one who interrupts him. “Go,” he says to everyone else. Immediately, the lawyers stand and walk out of the room. Emilia stands as well, that pinched expression on her face until she turns to my brother. “Come, Mr. Rothschild. Won’t you allow me to show you the library. I’ve heard that you love r
By the time I’m at the office, there is a copy of the signed contract in my fax machine and a copy of my schedule to get ready for the wedding in my email inbox. Apparently I’m supposed to be at a catering appointment tonight at 8:00 at Tavern on the Green. Well, la ti da. It’s one of the most expensive and in demand venues in the city. The food is beyond reproach, the scenery is gorgeous, and the service is amazing. And of course, the Lucianos somehow booked it for a wedding next week. If only I had the magic touch to do something like that for the gala. The day is highly stressful and unproductive. Emily, Gray, and I are unable to find a new venue for the gala. And phone calls, hurried meetings, and one or two screaming fits on my part cause me to be approximately 15 minutes late to the Tavern on the Green. Unfortunately, I don’t have the phone number for my soon to be in-laws, nor do I know who I will be meeting there. I called the Tavern on my way, but I have no idea
I’m standing in Kleinfeld’s Bridal Salon, Don Luciano having rented out the whole place. It’s just me, Grayson, and Emily, my best friend. My wedding party is full of members of the Luciano family, their only concessions to our family being my brother on Dante’s side and Emily being my maid-of-honor. And each and every Luciano wanted to come to today’s appointment, none more than Dante’s mother, Emila, and his sister, Bianca. I don’t know how Grayson did it, but he managed to have their dress fittings happen at the same time as my appointment, playing it off as a scheduling error. With so little time between now and the wedding, there was nothing that could be done. Oh no, I’m so upset… Emila was rather upset, but I just reminded her that she would be seeing me in the dress in less than a week, so it isn’t really that big of a deal. It’s not like this will be like a real marriage, right? The one thing that the Lucianos did require was that I have a guard follow me around ev
Grayson, Emily, and I walk to Burger and Lobster Flatiron. It’s this great sit down restaurant that I found after one of my girlfriends got her dress at Kleinfelds a year or so ago. I hadn’t eaten all day and needed something fast before I passed out. The lobster rolls are the best that I’ve had outside of Maine and the Truffle fries are droolworthy. I’ve brought Grayson and Emily here millions of times since then. It’s just that damn good. We purposefully hadn’t told Josiah where we were going. I’ve made it my entire life without security, I really don’t see why anyone would want to hurt me now, just because I’m engaged to a Luciano. I mean, it’s not like I’m in the family yet. We take a seat outside, since it’s a beautiful day outside. The weather is turning warmer as summer approaches. You know, it’s weird. I’ve always wanted to be married in June. It’s always been my favorite month. The city starts bursting with life, all kinds of outdoor events, time spent in Centr
Emilio drives us to Warren Tricomi, one of the best hair salons in the city. On our wedding day, they will be sending several hair stylists, makeup artists, and manicurists to take care of us onsite and all of the women will be having their own consultations. But with my schedule at work and in preparation for this shitshow, I mean my wedding day, I have to do this appointment on my own. Poor Em is going to be doing it with the Lucianos tomorrow. I do not envy her. The entire ride to the salon, I stare out the window. It’s only a three mile rip, but in true New York fashion, it takes about 20 minutes. I manage to finish the whiskey that Dante gave me. He takes the glass from me. “Do you want another?” I just shake my head, keeping my gaze facing the window. I’m not seeing anything that we pass by, my mind speeding through the information that I’ve learned. When Don Luciano claimed me as his son’s fiancee, people saw me as a weakness. Death threats were sent to my famil
The week is a blur of activity. Between having to supervise packing my stuff and getting it to Dante’s house, preparing for the merger at work, and this damn wedding, I barely have time to think. It’s exhausting. Grayson and Emily really are godsends during this time. Emily is able to handle all the minutiae that goes with planning a wedding. I’m sure that some women find this to be an enjoyable process, but they also have more than a week to figure it out. Em knows my style, having been my best friend since kindergarten. Plus, she has impeccable taste. I trust her to make those decisions while I handle something that I actually care about, like the family business. Grayson hires movers, organizers, style experts, and anything else that I need to get things together for my move to Dante’s home. There is an interior designer sent by Dante’s family to help me design my room and get everything moved over while we are away on our honeymoon. God, that’s the last thing that I w
I stay away from my “bridesmaids” for the rest of the day as much as I possibly can. I’m pretty done with them and they seem to get that energy off of me. It also isn’t my most favorite day in the entire world. Instead, I stay off to the side with Emily for the rest of the day. Emilia, Dante’s mom, comes over and speaks several times, but she keeps getting pulled away for her own treatments and procedures with the aunts and other matriarchs of the family. Honestly, thank God. I just can’t pretend to be nice right now. I’m going to have to pretend to be nice and happy in front of several hundred people for the rest of the day. I can’t fake being nice right now. “Are you sure that there’s nothing that you can do to stop this?” Emily asks me after the second time Emilia comes over. I’m in the middle of getting my hair done and she was kind enough to bring a glass of champagne. She had no idea that Emily hasn’t let me see the bottom of my glass for the past hour. Good t