Page 26 of The Enforcer's Possession
Then he turned us to face the audience, keeping one arm locked around my waist.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the priest announced, his voice carrying over the continued applause, “I present to you Mr.and Mrs.De Luca.”
The applause grew louder.People stood.The photographer moved forward to capture the moment.
I’d bound myself to a man who’d told me in explicit terms he owned me now.The contract didn’t matter to Dante.I’d been so proud of myself for negotiating with him, and now I simply felt foolish.
His hand tightened at my waist as if he could read my thoughts.Probably could, actually.The panic must have been visible on my face despite my attempts to hide it.
“Too late for second thoughts,” he murmured against my ear as the photographer directed us into position.“You’re mine now, Caterina.Legally, publicly, and” -- his breath was hot against my neck --”soon, physically.”
My knees wanted to give out.I locked them, using every bit of control I had to stay upright.
The photographer counted down.“Three, two, one --”
The flash went off, capturing us in that moment.Dante looking satisfied and possessive.Me looking like a bride.
Looking like prey that had just realized the trap had closed.
Chapter Seven
Caterina
Papa had spared no expense on the reception -- champagne flowing from fountains, tables laden with food that most of the guests were too busy networking to actually eat.A string quartet played something classical and appropriately elegant in one corner.Everything gleamed and looked perfect.But it felt like a very expensive cage door slamming shut.
Dante hadn’t released me since we’d walked out of the ceremony.His hand remained at my waist as we moved through the crowd, his fingers occasionally tightening when certain men looked at me too long or too openly.A reminder that I was taken now.Claimed.Off-limits.
We’d been at the reception for maybe forty minutes, and I’d learned something disturbing: Dante was excellent at playing the political game when he chose to.He navigated conversations with Papa’s associates with the same calculated precision he probably used when eliminating problems.Polite but not obsequious.Firm but not aggressive.Making it clear that marrying me had elevated the De Luca family’s status while simultaneously reminding everyone that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
“Congratulations on the union.”One of Papa’s oldest allies -- a don whose name I’d forgotten -- raised his champagne glass.“A strong match for both families.”
“Thank you.”Dante’s thumb traced a small circle against my hip, the gesture looking affectionate to casual observers.Only I could feel the possession in it, the subtle claiming.“Caterina is an exceptional woman.I’m fortunate to have her.”
Fortunate.Not lucky.Not blessed.Fortunate, like I was a business acquisition that had worked out well.
“Your father must be pleased,” the don continued, addressing me directly.“The De Luca alliance strengthens your family’s position considerably.”
I felt Dante’s hand tighten in warning before I could respond with something sharp.He wanted me playing the role of dutiful wife, not my usual defiant self.
“My father is a strategic man.”I kept my tone neutral.“He recognizes value when he sees it.”
The don’s eyes flicked between us, reading subtext I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him to see.Then he nodded, raised his glass one more time, and moved away into the crowd.
Dante leaned down, his lips brushing my ear.“Good girl.Keep playing nice and this will go much smoother.”
Good girl.Like I was a pet being praised for proper behavior.The words should have made me furious.Instead, they sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine that I absolutely refused to analyze.
We moved to the next cluster of guests -- De Luca associates this time, men with hard faces and harder eyes who studied me like I was a curiosity.Dante’s little Lombardi bride, probably wondering how long it would take him to break me into something manageable.
His hand never left my body.When we stood talking to a group, he kept me at his side, his arm wrapped around my waist.When we moved through the crowd, his fingers laced with mine, his grip firm enough that pulling away would have caused a scene.When someone approached from my other side, he shifted position to place himself between us, a physical barrier that made his message clear: all access to his wife went through him.
I tried shifting away once, testing the boundaries.His hand immediately tightened, pulling me back against him hard enough that I felt every inch of his solid frame.
“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice pitched for my ears only.“You stay at my side.Where I can touch you.Where everyone can see exactly who you belong to now.”
“I’m not property --”
“Yes, you are.”His fingers slid lower, settling just above the curve of my ass in a way that would have looked innocent if not for the possessive grip.“You signed the contract that made you mine.You took the vows that sealed it.Don’t pretend you didn’t understand what that meant.”
