Page 10 of The Proposal

She’s always been stronger than me, but what will become of her when I’m gone? Will she push Papa too far? I’ve always been the one to shield her, the buffer between the two of them.

I eventually hear the heavy stomp of my father’s footstepsechoing against the marble floor as he stalks away, but I make no move to leave the safety of the bathroom.

I inhale sharply and hold my breath when I hear a soft knock on the door a minute later. “Arabella,” Dante says in a smooth, warm, and reassuring voice, but I ignore him. I’m no fool. This man is a gangster … a murderer. Is he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? “Please open up.”

“No! Go away.”

“You can’t stay in there forever.”

He’s right, but I still reply with a sarcastic, “Can’t I?”

“Do I need to go and get your father?” he threatens.

When I don’t respond, and he says nothing more, I rise from the side of the bathtub where I’ve been sitting for the past hour and creep towards the door.

I place my flattened palms against the wood, pressing my ear to it. “I thought I was your problem now?” I say.

“Unfortunately, that’s true,” I hear him mumble, which is followed by a deep sigh. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way … your choice,Bellezza.”

Bellezza

That word lingers in the air. It’s the second time he’s called me beauty. It’s not the word itself that upsets me, but the way he says it feels like a command, an observation, and a warning all rolled into one.

I stay silent, my ear still pressed to the door, praying the hard way doesn’t involve him kicking it in. If it does, I’m bound to go flying across the room.

“Lucia told me you’re concerned about the ritual.”

My eyes widen in shock … how could she? “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.

That stupid tradition has backed me into a corner. If I go through with consummating my marriage—which is the last thing I want to do—my father will see that I am indeed pure. If I don’t, and the sheets remain white, I’m a dead woman walking.

“I have aplan.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I grew up with his type, so I don’t trust this man as far as I can kick him, but somehow, I find myself opening the door anyway. I narrow my eyes the moment they lock with his. “What’s your plan?”

He flashes that too-casual smile of his, and even though a part of me likes it, I’m on high alert.

“Come,” he says, holding his hand out for mine.

Every instinct in me screamsdon’t do it, but my body doesn’t seem to care. My fingers move of their own accord, sliding into his, and I can’t ignore the electric jolt that shoots up my arm the moment our skin touches.

It’s the same feeling I got earlier when we exchanged our vows and also the day we met. It’s why I was forced to rub my hand against my dress. It was something I’d never experienced before.

I walk with him down the long corridor towards the grand ballroom, where the reception is being held.

Despite my trembling insides, I hold my head high. “What is your plan?”

“Don’t worry,Bellezza… I’ve got you.”

Those words should offer me comfort, but they don’t. I have no idea what this smiling assassin is truly capable of.

Is this a trap?

Is he setting me up, disarming me with his charming smile, only to strike when I least expect it?

---