Chapter 4- Emelia

True fear in its purest form hit me the minute I stepped in this room.

The men marched me up a wide set of stairs and up to the first floor, where we carried on to the room I’m in now. They switched on the lights then left me.

An elderly woman came in with a tray of sandwiches moments after I was dropped off. Although she said nothing to me I could tell she was curious.

Instead of eating the sandwiches like I’m sure she hoped, I sunk to the floor with my back against the wall and allowed myself to cry.

That was roughly half an hour ago, but it feels like forever. I’m not sure which is worse—being left to my thoughts by myself or being around these people. I think being left alone might be the winner because right now I’m so scared. Terrified, more like, and I’m just waiting to see what’s going to happen next.

The room I’m in is massive; the floor is hardwood, has a four-poster bed, mahogany furniture, and an entire wall made of glass that has a stunning view of the sea and the rock formations against the beach. Off in the distance I can see a bigger sailboat. It’s massive and quite unlike the ones I saw earlier. This one has white sails, and even from here I can see it’s customized with a grand design that only a person who loves sailing would have. It screams of wealth. Money and power. Money and power enough to buy a person.

Within the glow of the silver moonlight everything looks like I’m glimpsing into a fairytale.

But this is far from anything of the sort. I feel more like I’m trapped in a Tim Burton film, stuck in a nightmare I can’t escape.

I’m scared and I feel sick, like I’m going to throw up everything I ever ate in my life.

Whenever I was scared, I used to run to Jacob, or at least call him. Tonight, I can’t do either. I can’t leave this place, and I can’t call anyone for help. My bag was the first thing to get taken. Inside was my phone.

The last time I felt this shaken was when Mom was sick and we knew there was nothing we could do for her. We knew she was going to die. It was Jacob who was there for me, because Dad dealt with his grief by shunning everyone. Including me. I think of Jacob and know that he will be worried. He will call me and get no answer, then worry some more. I’ll bet, too, that he’ll go to the house in the morning to check, just to be sure I’m okay.

Will Dad tell him what happened to me? I doubt it. Jacob would go crazy if he knew, and it would not be good for him if he did that.

There’s a side to my father that I’ve caught glimpses of in the past but didn’t see in full bloom until tonight as he squeezed my hand like he would break it if I disobeyed. I would never want him to hurt Jacob, or worse, for Jacob to try to rescue me. He’s the kind of friend who would do that.

Not even a handful of hours ago my thoughts were consumed with going to Florence. Now, my dream is just that: a dream. A thing my heart wants. I have to push that all aside to think about what is happening to me here and now.

The reality of the situation is this: I’m supposed to marry and live with Massimo D’Agostino for the rest of my life. And I’m just supposed to accept that?

How?

I can’t believe Dad would do this to me.

And realistically, what now? I’m in this bedroom. Is it Massimo’s? It must be. Why would they take me to a guestroom if I belong to him? This room must be his.

No one spoke to me at all. No one said anything, not to me or each other.

They just deposited me here like the thing I am and left.

What will happen when he gets back? Will he take my virginity? Would he care that I’m a virgin?

Men like him don’t care. They take. I’ll be here for sex.

I won’t be stupid enough to think Massimo will be mine too. Like Dad, he’ll have his women.

Dad doesn’t know I knew about his affairs. I don’t even think he knew Mom knew. At least, to my knowledge, he didn’t appear to be seeing anybody while Mom was sick.

I’m certain Massimo has his host of women. A man who looks like him definitely would.

I never wanted my life to turn out like this. When I married, I always hoped it would be for love. This is complete shit.

The bedroom door handle turns, and I nearly jump out of my skin. The door swings open and there he is, standing in the hollow of the doorframe gazing at me.

My breath hitches in my throat and my heart races the longer he stares. Those piercing eyes seem brighter against his olive skin.

Terrified, I stand as he walks in and closes the door behind him.

I find myself wanting to look away, but at the same time his striking appearance commands my attention and rivets my gaze to him, making it difficult for me to focus. I think I’d find this easier if he weren’t so ridiculously gorgeous. He’s the kind of man who you would naturally stare at.

Paralyzed under the weight of his watchful eyes and the trepidation of what he’s going to do to me makes me want to run. Run far away and never look back.

He gets closer but stops a few paces away, still towering over me. The scent of his aftershave fills my nose and I grit my teeth.

“There’s a bed for you to lie on. You don’t have to take to the floor,” he says, breaking the silence.

Unsure of what to say, I decide not to answer.

“Unless you like the floor,” he adds. His voice deepens as it drops, and my nerves scatter when he looks me over from head to toe, assessing me.

He feels like a giant next to me. He’s about six foot four while I’m five two.

“This isn’t right,” I rasp. My voice sounds weak and weary, foreign to my ears. I don’t sound like the strong woman my mother raised me to be. I don’t sound like the woman I was earlier this morning when I woke and told myself I was going to conquer the world and be the best version of myself I could be.

“What?” The corners of his lips turn up into a smooth smile, revealing perfect white teeth.

Of course, his smile is also beautiful and disarming. Maybe that’s what he uses to intimidate people.

“You can’t do this. You can’t have me,” I answer, trying to steady my heart so it doesn’t leap out of my chest.

“The piece of paper we signed says different, Princesca.”

Princesca… He called me that earlier.

If he means that word in relation to me being a spoiled brat, he’s wrong. I’m not that. I never have been. Yes, I may have never wanted for anything in my life, but that doesn’t mean I was given everything just because I wanted it.

“You don’t know me,” I retort.

“I don’t need to.”

“You’re right, you don’t need to know me to know this is wrong. There must be some other way my father can pay you back. Let me go.” I’m proud of myself for the little speech, but the pride fades when a deep chuckle rumbles within the walls of his chest.

“I’m the one the debt is owed. I choose how I want to be paid. I choose what I want to take.”

“So, you picked me?” I give him an incredulous glare. “Why the hell would you pick me?”

As soon as the words fall from my lips, I feel completely stupid. I’m my father’s heir. That’s answer enough. My inheritance in the business alone is worth several million. Add the assets that fall part of it and I’m actually worth a fortune. That contract stipulated Massimo would get everything. Every single thing attached to my name.

“My dear Princesca, you really are living in the dark.” He smirks, revealing the dimple in his left cheek.

“There must be some other way.”

“I’m sure there is, except I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do,” he answers.

My heart squeezes. It feels like a rug has been pulled from beneath me. This is the man I’m supposed to marry. While he looks like a fairytale prince, he’s not.

My lips part, but I’m at a loss for words.

“So…you see, it can’t be any other way, Emelia Balesteri. I marry you, and I get everything you own. You belong to me, and everything you have and will get belongs to me too.”

“It’s wrong. You must know that.”

“Stop it,” he orders. His smile fades. That cool, calm demeanor returns, and I realize then that this is his dangerous side.

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to prey on my good side. I don’t have one.”

I tremble now as his gaze bores into me. He’s telling me things I should know, but mostly he’s saying I have no hope.

“Don’t you have a heart?” My voice has reverted to the weak tone it took when I first spoke as I make one final attempt to reach whatever I see in him that might resemble something human.

“No,” he answers. “I have no heart, Princesca.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I don’t know you.”

“Massimo D’Agostino, age twenty-nine, soon-to-be owner of D’Agostinos Inc. Last check came up clean.” He smirks, and my soul quivers. “We will be married in one month’s time. You will live here, and that is all you need to know.”

“You think that’s enough,” I lash back.

“It’s enough because I say so. Enough nitty-gritty. I think I’ve given you enough answers to your questions. Now, take your clothes off.”