Page 16 of Dominance

The man I agreed to marry. An arranged marriage by my mafioso father.

It sounds even more outrageous when I lay it out like that. It’s the truth, though.

He blindsided me with it just before he blindsided Adriano with the news, and he made it clear that he needed me to play along. It’s just that the closer we get to the event, and everything that leads up to it, the more nervous I’m getting about having to get to know Adriano, and how much I want to.

Not to mention the fact that I am starting to have doubts about Dad’s intentions for the wedding. Like I might actually have to go through with it.

On the flip side, what does it mean for Adriano if he doesn’t make me do it?

Is my father’s plan to eliminate the brother of his ex-best friend—former head of the family?

It would make sense, except for everything he’s put on Adriano’s shoulders so far. It doesn’t make sense to make him the right hand of the family and then immediately kill him.

Unless he suspects Adriano’s planning something.

And here I am, caught in the middle of schemes and plots, with plans of my own, and more than enough to worry about without having to wonder if there’s anything even more sinister going on!

“In. Over. My. Head.” I grumble, shuffling toward the last of the shelves along the back wall. It’s right then that something catches my eye, a recess in the corner.

The lights back here are dimmer, some out completely.

But it’s definitely a cubby.

Concealing a door. A locked door, at that.

“Which shouldn’t be a problem at all…” I snicker, tugging a bobby pin out of my hair and kneeling. “Old building, old locks.”

Anna was right when she said I used to sneak out a lot when I was a teenager. And sneaking back in was just as much of the challenge.

A tiny click precedes the door screeching open on tired hinges, revealing a closet, lined with filing cabinets.

“Well, well.” I tap my lip as I peer inside, leaning to look around as I tug the door farther open and wiggle inside.

Face first into a cobweb.

A shriek slips through my lips, and I stumble back bumping a shelf and tumbling forward as a cascade of papers avalanche down on me. Catching my hands in front of me I push up, wincing at the pain in my head and the worse pain to my pride.

“Empotée! Klutzy girl,” I growl, trying to rise from my awkward, bent position.

But I can’t.

My blouse is caught on something.

And I’m pinned by the filing cabinet behind me, tipping over to rest against my backside.

Now, I’m not claustrophobic, but…

“Breathe and take it slow…”

Panic starts to coil in my stomach at the thought of being trapped in this dark, tight space, when I hear it, a whistle out in the archives. As I stop pulling, the drawer I’m caught in clunks loudly as I flop back against it.

The whistling stops.

“Hello?” a deep voice echoes nearby.

With an inner groan and a thousand curses, I close my eyes, knowing exactly who that voice belongs to and knowing that I need help more than I need my ego to stay intact.

“H-hi. In here. I’m stuck.”

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