Page 5 of Brutal Union
"I know." I breathe in her scent. Church incense and fear mixing with that expensive perfume. "Doesn't matter."
Her eyes search mine, looking for something. Mercy, maybe. Weakness. She won't find either. But she must see something because her body shifts beneath mine. Not struggling, just… aware. Of my weight. My strength. The bergamot cologne I wore specifically for this moment, knowing I'd be close enough for her to smell it.
"Why?" The word is barely audible. "Why me?"
"You know why." I finally release her wrists but don't move back. "Two years ago, you walked into my office and challenged me. No one challenges me, Valentina. They obey or they die. Butyou…" I touch her face, watch her flinch. "You threw wine in my face and smiled."
"That was a mistake," she says, voice steadier now. "One I won't repeat."
"No.You'll make all new mistakes." I sit back, giving her space but blocking any escape. "Interesting ones, I hope."
She pushes herself upright, hands shaking as she tries to fix her ruined hair. The dress is beyond saving. Torn lace, missing buttons, dirt from her struggle. She looks like she's been in a fight. She has been. She lost.
"I will never submit to you." Each word comes out carved from ice. "Never. You can force me to stand beside you, force me to take your name, but you will never own me."
The promise in her voice makes me smile. There's the fire that intrigued, the spirit that made her throw that wine. Other women would cry. Beg. Break. But Valentina Bernardi, soon to be Rosetti, promises war.
"Good." I catch her chin, force her to look at me. "I'd be disappointed if you made this easy."
The car slows. Through the windshield, I see my building rising against the Chicago skyline. Home. The penthouse where she'll learn exactly what it means to belong to me.
"You're insane," she whispers.
"No.Just patient." I release her face, settle back against the leather. "I've waited months for this exact moment. Planned every detail. Your father's weakness, the Irish desperation, the wedding that would never happen." I let satisfaction color my voice. "Even your dress. Your grandmother wore it to marry your grandfather. Your mother wore it to marry your father. Family tradition."
Horror flashes across her face. "How could you know that?"
"I know everything about you, principessa. Everything that matters."
The Escalade pulls into my private garage. The gates close behind us with finality. No escape now. Tommy opens my door, careful not to look at the disheveled bride in the backseat.
I step out, then start to lean back for one last look at my prize. But her hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. The rosary beads tangled in her fingers press against my skin. Still warm from her grip, leaving indentations in my flesh.
"You think you've won?" Her voice is low, dangerous despite her disheveled state. Despite everything I've taken from her today.
I turn back, lean into the car until our faces are inches apart. Close enough to see tears she refuses to let fall. Close enough to taste her breath. "I know I have."
Something shifts in her eyes. Not surrender, never that, but recognition. She sees what I am. What I'm capable of. What I'm promising. I'll keep her safe from everyone but me. I'll protect her from every threat except the one I pose. I'll give her everything and take even more.
She releases my wrist slowly, the rosary beads leaving perfect impressions in my skin. Marks that will fade by morning but feel permanent now. Her hand drops to her lap, fingers still clutching her mother's prayer beads like they might save her from what comes next.
I straighten, step back from the car. Tommy waits, eyes averted, professional as always. Behind us, I hear more vehicles pulling into the garage. My brothers, returning from whatever chaos erupted at the cathedral. There will be consequences for today. Blood debts and new vendettas. But that's tomorrow's problem.
Today, I have her.
"Twenty minutes, principessa." I check my watch with deliberate calm. "The judge will be here in twenty minutes. Justenough time for you to decide if you'll walk to another altar today…" I let my eyes travel over her ruined dress, her wild hair, the defiance still burning in her eyes. "Or if I'll have to carry you to this one too."
The promise hangs between us, heavy with inevitability. She doesn't answer, but her chin lifts in that way I'm already learning means she's preparing for battle.
Good. I want her to fight. It will make her surrender so much sweeter.
3 - Valentina
The cage is beautiful, but it’s still a cage.
Twenty minutes. That's what he gave me before the judge arrives. Twenty minutes to "prepare myself" while he handles whatever bloodshed we left at the cathedral. The elevator ride to his penthouse felt like ascending to my execution, Tommy driving us here in silence before returning to deal with the chaos below.
Now I stand in the center of what must be the living room, turning slowly to take in the impossible luxury surrounding me. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across three walls, Chicago sprawling below like a kingdom I'll never touch again. My wedding dress, grandmother's dress, hangs in tatters around me, torn lace trailing as I move toward the glass.
