Stefan’s hands grip my waist. Everyone is watching us, so I swallow my sadness and force a smile onto my face.
Pretending will get me out of here alive. Pretending will give me time to think. Pretending will give me time to find Dante.
I can’t let myself think about him, or I’ll start crying again.
“When we finish, you must kiss me,” he says with a sick smile.
“What?”
“God, I hate dumb questions. Do you want me to kill your mother?”
I swallow hard, the knot in my throat tightening with every second.
Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life with a man like him? To have kids with him?
No. I won’t have any children. I won’t make them endure what I went through. I’d rather die.
All the freedom I thought I had is gone. They’ve stolen it from me—again.
Pretend. Smile. Obey. Don’t falter.
We stop, and I look at him with my best fake smile—the one that tears me apart inside. He mirrors it, his grin both victorious and angry.
Then, I stand on my tiptoes, trembling as I press my lips to his.
Gross.
I hate every second of it.
Cheers explode around us. Couples step forward to join our dance. I look around, desperate to find something, anything, someone who can save me.
And then I see him. His dark blue eyes, his scars, his lips.
I freeze as he smiles at us. My breath hitches painfully in my chest. I need to run to him. I need to feel his arms around me, to beg him to take me away, to get me out of this nightmare. But my husband keeps me at his side with a crushing grip.
Please, Dante. Please, help me. Please, I’m begging you. Please. I need you. Please, I—
He raises his cup, and with a sickening grin, drops it, not even sparing me a glance. He turns away like I’m invisible. I’m suffocating, burning in this hell.
I look at my husband—his cold eyes meet mine, and my stomach twists violently.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, my voice trembling, “I need to go to the bathroom.”
He narrows his eyes, and for a second, I think he might stop me.
“Shall I remind you you’re surrounded by guns?” he asks calmly.
“No, I—I really need to pee. And get some air,” I whisper.
He studies me for a moment, but to my relief, he nods and lets me go.
I run, desperate. I don’t care if anyone sees me. I need him. I need an explanation—anything. I need him to tell me to stop trying; to tell me he just used me. I won’t believe it from anyone else.
We were both tricked into this. I know we were. I need him to tell me this was all a mistake—or that falling for him was.
My heart races, my mind a storm of confusion. I refuse to believe that he just used me. He couldn’t have. Hecan’thave. His eyes told me everything I needed to know—his touch, his words. He loved me. I know he loves me.
I reach the door, but my father steps in front of it, blocking my way. Dante is getting away, and I can’t let him leave. But I can’t shout at him either.