Married To The Wrong Brother

As I started back, he didn't, and something about the way his shoes hit the stone made me realize he wasn't just strolling.

There were three men. One of them I recognized, vaguely. He had thick hands and eyes that burnt gold. He always sat near the outer ring of the main dining table at Gatherings. The other two looked older. Bodyguard types with formal suits and rough faces. One of them had a knife on his belt, visible on purpose.

I swallowed. It was normal to hold little pocket knives right? I used to have one for my apples, but I wasn't with it right now.

The one in the center had pale skin and gelled hair slicked back. He was broad, maybe late thirties, with a square jaw and permanent sneer I'd seen on predators that surrounded events like this.

He started towards me, smirking, and my hand tightened around my phone.

"You're not supposed to be out here, bella," his voice scraped against the walls of my ears.

"I," I stiffened, then cleared my throat and remembered what my father used to tell me about showing fear because it makes you look like prey. So, I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders.

"Just getting some air," my voice wobbled so much that I could hear my heartbeat over them.

"Oh, I know," he smiled wider. "You're Rosalia Capello, right?"

I choked.

There were hundreds here tonight. Names and dynasties and women far more important than me. I wasn't even supposed to be seen. I wasn't one of the gilded daughters or promised brides. My father always said we walked two steps behind the bloodlines, that we earned our seats and didn't inherit them. Even Dominic only knew me because of who my father worked for. So how the hell did this stranger... this man –

My lips parted, "How do you know my name?"

"Funny thing about unimportant women... they don't stay long in my memory," he turned slightly, admiring the hedge behind me. "But then there's only one pretty little blonde who keeps slipping past her babysitter."

The other two chuckled under their breath, but it wasn't funny.

I stepped back, my heart hammering in my chest, but the hedge was already closing in.

His eyes were murky like dying leaves. He looked like he belonged in a cathedral or a morgue.

"This garden's not a playground," he muttered, clicking his tongue. "You're only here because your father does... clerical work for De Laurentiis."

"Clerical?" I blinked.

"Accounting, paperwork," he started as if he was explaining a menu, and my brows pulled together. "Money shuffling. Shit the real men don't want to touch."

"That's not true. You have no idea what you're talking about," I spat too quickly.

He looked at me like I'd just tried to correct his math in front of a firing squad. "Oh, don't I?" His voice dropped, and suddenly he was in front of me. "Tell me, princess. Do you even know who I am?"

I glared at him, and from my peripheral vision, I saw the two men behind him twitch, but they didn't move any closer.

"You don't know my father." More heat rose in my voice than I expected. "He's been working with De Laurentiis for over two decades. He's not some flunky. They don't keep nobodies around that long."

His thick brows lifted and he gave a slow, pitying laugh. "Working with?" he repeated, like the phrase offended him. "Your father's been working for. That's a different story, bambolina."

It wasn't the first time someone had downplayed my father's loyalty. These gatherings always brought out the ones who wanted to remind you where the ceiling was, and exactly how low they thought you stood under it. My father always told me not to take the bait. But Davina wouldn't have stayed quiet. My sister would've smashed a wineglass into the bastard's temple by now.

"You talk like you know everything." I stood my ground and sucked my teeth. "But I don't even know your name. Which means you're either irrelevant or a coward."

That wiped the ugly smile off his face for a second. Then he stepped into me until there was nothing left between us but tension and the pounding in my ears. He was so close I could count the flecks in his irises.

"You don't need to know my name," he leaned closer, and I caught a whiff of his spiced cologne that tasted soured in the mouth.

"That's exactly what cowards say," I muttered under my breath.

His lips thinned. "I could crush your family to ashes with one phone call. Your daddy's got more blood in his books than numbers. Half the shit he's moved, De Laurentiis doesn't even know. But I do."

His hand went up to run his fingers down his slightly rough stumble, and I held my breath.

"And you," his voice was nearly tender now. "Rosalia Capello... Too soft for this world, and too stupid to realize you doesn't belong in it."

My heart thudded heavily. I looked past him, toward where Dom should've been.

"He's not coming, Bella," the man drawled, fake-pouting. "And even if he was, he's not going to change how this ends."

He grabbed my wrist, and I yanked back, but his fingers clamped down like a trap.

"Let go of me!"

My head spun when he didn't. His fingers clenched round, dragging me forward an inch before I caught myself, stumbling backwards.

"You weren't supposed to be out here.This is private. This spot isn't yours –"

"It was never yours either," I shot back through gritted teeth.

"No, but I was invited," he smiled wickedly. "You just tagged along on your daddy's leash, and now look, you slipped it."

Behind him, the second man finally spoke. "We should go. This isn't smart." His voice was flat, like sandpaper scraping concrete.

"She's not going to scream," the first one started. "she hasn't even moved."

"I will scream," I groaned.

He suddenly whipped around, his hand snapping up to grip my jaw. His fingers dug into the soft flesh beneath my cheekbone, forcing my chin up. "You won't," he snarled, baring his teeth. "Because you're not any stupider, and you know fucking well that screaming won't save you here – ironic, isn't it? Picking the perfect little hideaway?"

Oh, God. He was right, and that terrified me more than anything.

The third man circled around, now behind me. I could feel his breath near my neck.

"She's scared," he whispered, almost gleeful. "Probably her first time being this close to men like us."

"Bet Dominic never even kissed her," the first chuckled darkly that his spittle landed on my shoulder.

I squirmed, but his fingers pressed harder, nails digging into my flesh like anchors, and if I wasn't careful, I might escape with a bruised face.

"Oh," he grinned. "So he didn't. What a waste."

"You're disgusting," I breathed, and before my fear could stop me, I spit directly in his face. "Dom –"

His hand split the air and my senses as pain bloomed across my face, knocking my head sideways. I swayed, off-kilter, but the hands gripping my arms shoved me upright. My eyes blurred and my cheek burned as if something inside my jaw had popped.

"Dominic isn't coming," he sneered, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

I clenched my teeth so hard it ached.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're not special, Rosalia. You're just a payment, your daddy's name is on a deal," his eyes dropped to my mouth, "That makes the Capellos a nobody we can fold and burn like any other."

My back slammed into the cold stone wall, a sharp groan clawing out of my throat.

Before the pain spread to my spine, he actually leaned in and sniffed my hair, dragging to my face that his sweaty skin made my skin crawl. He continued drawing deep breaths like some twisted animal, his breath hot on my cheek as he whispered, "You smell expensive. Shame, but that's not what I intend to fill my nostrils with tonight."

I attempted to run, but the second I turned, one of them shoved me back and pinned me against the wall, his hand locked across my chest like iron. I gritted my teeth, my heart slamming into my ribs. I felt his breath hot and sour against my cheek that I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the worst.

Then I felt his hand trail downward, yanking my dress and hovering near my upper thighs.

No.