Page 79 of No Promises, No Lies

Matteo sighs, his patience wearing thin with my questions. “There’s no need. It’s already done.”

I swallow hard, nodding before trying again. “But, surely there may be a few things I should still?—”

He slams the phone down and I jump. “You will have everything you need. There is no need to return to the Kostalov compound. You belong to me now.”

I shrink back in my seat, feeling trapped, an overwhelming need for space arising.

He smiles. This time, he looks like he’s truly taking pleasure in the discomfort he’s causing. “You will accompany me to this fundraiser tonight. As my fiancé and soon-to-be wife, it is your duty. You will smile, you will laugh at my jokes and you keepyour pretty little mouth shut unless told otherwise. Am I being clear, Aurora?”

Tears well up in the backs of my eyes, but I don’t dare let them fall. Silently, I agree, avoiding his gaze. If I don’t go back to the mansion, I won’t have access to any of my money.

Sevendays.

In seven days, I’m expected to marry this jackass. Panic stirs and I have half a mind to throw open the door and tuck and roll onto the highway. I have to get away—Run.

But how?

The entire ride to the fancy hotel where the fundraiser is being held, I work on the problem.

When we arrive, Matteo’s guards open the door for us and he hands one of them the garment bag. “You can change upstairs.” I nod, absently climbing out of the car, but he stops me.

His icy hand wraps around my upper arm and I stop, turning my head slowly to face him. “I expect perfection, Aurora,” he warns. “I will accept nothing less.”

It’s no surprise the dress Matteo picked out for me to wear tonight is gold. The shiny fabric is actually pretty, unlike the last dress that was a little gaudy in my opinion. My only issue with this dress is it’s short.

Indecently so.

I spend most of the night uncomfortably tugging at the hem to keep it from sliding up my thigh.Which it does just about every time I move.

Matteo drags me from table to table. I meet so many businessmen and contacts I can’t possibly remember all of their names, their faces blurring together after so many hours.

I vaguely remember eating dinner. I’m dead on my feet by the time I bump into Cole DeLuca close to midnight. The party wound down ages ago, but Matteo insisted on staying to schmooze a few more associates. My cheeks hurt from the fake smile I’ve had plastered on my face all night. When my shoulder catches the Italian Capo as I pass by him, I wobble, unsteady in the high heels Matteo brought me—half a size too small.

Cole reaches out, offering his arm to help steady me. His dark eyes slide from me to his consigliere behind me. “Your fiancé is tired, Matteo. You should take her home. Call it a night.” The young Italian Capo smiles kindly down at me and I’m grateful, but I still eye him with caution. The man is not known for his kindness.

He’s unsettling. Power and influence rolls off of him in waves. The type of man who enters a room and everyone notices.

Matteo quickly agrees, “Yes, Signore DeLuca. Of course.” He bows his head slightly in deference and offers me his arm; the picture of a gentleman.

With only a few seconds’ hesitation, I accept it, which elicits a frown from Matteo. He nods goodbye to his capo while guiding me gently toward the exit.

“Oh, and congratulations on the gold, Miss Kostalova,” DeLuca calls out from behind us. And I know he isn’t talking about the dress. “Quite the accomplishment.”

I swing my gaze toward his, meeting his dark eyes. “Thank you,” I breathe. And I mean it. I have no idea how he knows about it, but Cole DeLuca is the only one to mention my competition in Cincinnati all night.

At Matteo’s urging, I bid DeLuca farewell and we make our way out to the waiting car.

I’m grateful for the silent ride home, utterly exhausted after the long day—and even longer night. We pull up to the unfamiliar dark Victorian located far outside of the city. I followMatteo out of the car, and up the stairs, and through a very large and overly ornate foyer. I only assume I’m supposed to follow him since he hasn’t actually said anything to me since we left the venue, and he hasn’t directed me elsewhere.

When we reach what must be his study, Matteo closes the door behind us. The silence I’d previously felt refuge in, feels dangerous all of a sudden.

I wait awkwardly by the door, teetering slightly on my heels. Eyes watching Matteo as he paces the length of the office. Normally, I would have slipped them off by now, choosing to ride barefoot in the car. But Matteo strikes me as someone who prefers propriety in all aspects of life.

After several long, drawn out minutes, he stops behind his desk, gripping the back of a leather armchair. His gaze, when it lands on me, is volatile. I straighten up under the weight of it. The anger in his eyes awakens my fight or flight.

“You embarrassed me tonight.”

I shift uncomfortably on my heels, confused. I’d done everything he asked. “I thought it went well…” He cuts me off with a shake of his head.

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