Page 5 of The Proposal

“As soon as the deal is made … yes.”

I may not like or wholeheartedly trust him, but a man’s word is everything in our world.

I sit up straighter in my seat. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

He picks up the phone on his desk and places it to his ear. “Tell Arabella I need to see her in my office immediately.”

He slams down the receiver with a resounding thud once he barks out his order. He’s such a rude prick. My father was a brutal man at times, but Stefano Rossi always made him appear like a saint, which was no easy feat.

A few minutes later, there’s a light knock on his door.

Here goes nothing.

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air as I stand.

I feel a mixture of frustration, resentment, and deepunease. I’m torn between obligation and the overwhelming desire to flee this situation.

I’m not opposed to marriage as a whole, but for some reason, this feels more like a death sentence than a happy union.

“Come in,” Stefano growls.

I glance over my shoulder when the door creaks open, and Arabella’s pretty green eyes narrow the moment they lock on mine. I can’t help but mirror her gaze, even if my heart thuds erratically against my ribcage.

I hate that, despite everything, there’s still some lingering pull, some damn attraction to the woman I should want to forget.

“You wanted to see me, Papa?”

Her voice is as sweet as honey, dripping with innocence, yet her expression has a hidden sharpness as if she knows exactly what’s coming.

His words are direct and spoken with finality. “You and Dante are to be married.”

His statement has her eyes widening to the size of saucers, and as much as I wish this union wasn’t happening either, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.

Her eyes dart briefly from Stefano to me, before settling back on her father. “Papa, please,” she begs, her voice laced with reluctance. “I … I don’t want to marry him.”

Tears shimmer in her eyes, and for reasons I can’t quite explain, that sight stirs something in my black heart.

“What did you just say?” he bellows, pushing his chair away from his desk and abruptly standing. I don’t like the way his daughter cowers when he does this.

As ruthless as my father could be at times, I wasn’t scared of him. Deep down, I knew he would never hurt my brother or me.

When Stefano rounds his desk, I quickly reach for the small leather box, trying to defuse whatever is about tohappen. If he lays one finger on her, I will have to kill him, and I really don’t want to do that.

“Could you give us a moment alone, please, Stefano?” I ask, trying hard not to let my anger show.

He nods, but I don’t miss the warning glare he gives his daughter as he leaves the room.

If we have any chance of getting Giovanni back safely, I need to make this marriage happen, so I swallow thickly and take a step towards my future bride.

My stomach churns as I remove the ring from the box.

I reach for her delicate hand when I come to a stop in front of her. I try to ignore her captivating scent, which is sweet and alluring, like an intoxicating breeze that draws you in and leaves you breathless. It’s an overwhelming contrast to the woman herself.

I clear my throat and pull back my shoulders because I need to get this shit over with so we can begin our search for my nephew.

“We will be married by the end of the week,” I tell her, forcibly sliding the gold band onto her dainty ring finger.

“I would rather die than marry you,” she murmurs. Her accent is thick—dare I say sexy—but her English is perfect.

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