My stomach tightened and my heart stopped.
This was it. It was game over for me.
I could feel the blood draining from my face. Had I been too arrogant in thinking that he was going to be glad to agree to my proposal? Perhaps I was fooling myself. I wasn't presentable enough. I had no value to him. Still, I wanted to know.
"Why?" I rasped. "Is it because I'm not Italian?"
He shook his head, his cold voice echoing through the room, "If all I wanted was someone to act as a wife, I would have just hired an actress."
"Then what else do you need?" I demanded, my hands shooting up in frustration. "You want me to become your assistant? Or your fucking maid? Maybe you just want me to bake you friggin' cookies and macarons."
His lips spread into a thin smile again, but this one was dark.
"What you're offering me is just the wrapper, a tip of the ice. What I want is the full package, the entire iceberg," he said.
I swallowed, suddenly feeling naked despite the layers of fabric over my skin. "There are limits to what I'm willing to sell."
"Do you even know what marriage means, sweetheart?" he asked with a soft chuckle and it suddenly felt weird that he could call someone sweetheart.
"Of course I know," I replied frustratedly.
"And do you know what marrying ME means?" he asked, piercing me with his stare, blocking every word in my throat.
I nodded my head slowly and he shook his head.
"No, you don't," he chuckled darkly. "Marrying me means being in constant danger. Countless people want me dead–more than half of my family included. Surely, they'll want to go after my wife and that's why I want more than just a paper marriage. I'll need absolute loyalty. I need to trust whoever the woman is that I'll call my wife."
"You said there are two reasons," I said, almost regretting it immediately. "What's the other one?"
I was suddenly too afraid to know what it was, filed with regret for asking.
"I don't need a wife alone; I also need a heir."
The revelation knocked the air out of my lungs. It was supposed to be a simple walk-in and walk out. Tell him I'm willing to marry him provided he pays for my mom's surgery, then he'll pull out the document for me to sign the contract.
And now this? There was absolutely no way I would carry the child of a cold-blooded killer.
"I don't think that's possible, Mr Giacomo," I said. "Perhaps I shouldn't have come. Thanks for your time."
I pivoted to the exit and the doors slid open in front of me. I was about to walk through when he called out.
"That's it? You'll just walk away, give up so easily?" he said and chuckled. "It's so disappointing."
My blood simmered with rage and I spun around to face him. "I'm not a whore, Giacomo. And neither am I a breeding mare," I hissed. "And as for my trust, I believe it has to be earned."
He stood up and walked towards me, pinning his predatory gaze on me.
"Why are you here, really, Stephanie?" he queried. "I need your honest answer."
"I told you," I said shakily. "I need money for my mom's treatment."
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him. "There are thousands of ways for you to get the money, and the easiest of them all is to go to the bank. So, tell me, why did you come to meet me?"
Something snapped inside of me; the last strand of my patience. "Thousands of ways? Go to the bank?" I sneered bitterly and a sour laugh escaped my laugh. I jerked my hand free from his grip and stepped back. A lone tear slipped out of the corner of my eyes and slid down my cheeks.
God. Crying in front of him and looking so helpless and forlorn was the last thing I wanted but I couldn't control it.
"Not all of us have options, Francesco," I said, wiping the tears. "I ran out of all of them."
He smirked as I raised my chin to his face.
"You think I didn't ask for a loan in the bank? Why do you think I went to my dad who never cared about us to beg for help?"
"Well if you loved your mom so much, why did you give up on whatever deal you made with your dad?" he inquired with the same smirk on his face.
An irrepressible surge of anger and bitterness flooded every inch of me as his words brought back the memory of everything.
I sucked in a breath through my gritted teeth. "He was just using me and I discovered he didn't want to pay for the treatment after all. The fucking son of a bitch only wanted to sell me off to close some stupid deal with Fabrizio Glocciano."
His eyes held an unimpressed look and his lips twisted into a dark sort of amusement. "And how is marrying me any different?"
"Glocciano is a sadist who's openly involved in trafficking in women," I said. "I was stupid for thinking that coming to you was a safer option."
A dark smile tore his lips. "So you're not only after my money; you're also doing all this for the protection. You're just a fucking gold digger."
"Screw you!" I shrieked, raising my middle finger. "You don't know a damn about me."
He looked at me with a weird smile, his eyebrows raised. "Oh, I know everything about you," he said. "I got a full report about you on my desk the very day you kissed me just downstairs."
My body shook with rage. "If you knew everything about me and my situation, then why ask me such ridiculous questions?"
"How would I know if you were telling the truth or lying?" he returned.
"Well now you know I'm not lying," I said and folded my arms.
"Maybe," he shrugged. "Maybe you're not lying here. Maybe you told a lie about something else."
I was confused, lost for words. I had no idea what he was rattling on about.
"Maybe you're lying to yourself because in reality–" he paused and gave a lewd smile, his voice dropping. "–you're only a little slut craving a good fuck."
My hand moved on its own. It landed on his face hard enough to leave a searing red mark and drawing blood from the corner of his lips. I spun around and headed for the door...only to find them closed. Locked.
I pressed my arms on the doors and pushed against the smooth, opaque surface but it didn't budge.
Well...shit.
I swallowed.
"Open the door," I said, managing the most arid voice I could.
He stepped closed and leaned into me, his lips brushing my ear. "Do you know how many people have walked in but never walked out?"
My stomach knotted.
I had hit him. I might as well have just signed my death warrant. I could bet he had killed others for milder, trivial reasons. And I hit him, a hard slap right on his face.
"Do you plan to kill me?" I asked, my voice slightly above a whisper.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Will I?"
My mind told me it was possible that he truly considered that option and my brain yelled for me to compose myself. But perhaps I was too angry and desperate to care. I turned around and stared him in the eye.
"Well, Mr Don, you can either kill me or open the door because I'm sure as hell not going to–"
I was forced to swallow the rest of my words as he sealed my lips with his, his tongue gliding into my mouth. And before my mind could process the whole thing, his hand circled round my waist, crushing me against his firm body.
I should have pushed him away. I should have stopped the kiss. But my body defiantly moved and worked on its own, thoroughly ignoring the last grain of reason.
I couldn't tell when my hands glided up to his neck, or when my fingers tangled in the dark, silky strands of hair on his head.
His grip around me tightened as he deepened the kiss, and out of my mouth a shameless whimper slipped free–a silent plea for more of his intoxicating kiss.
He happily obliged me, his caress intensifying.
One adventurous hand drifted down, reaching the curve of my ass while the other traveled up and down my spine in a fluid motion.
I bit his lip gently. He rewarded me with a sultry chuckle and sucked on mine.
I didn't know how much time had passed before our lips finally parted. His hands returned to my waist and his grip loosened. Then he inched back, his eyes still on me.
My hands limply slid from around his neck to his chest and I found a little comfort in finding his chest beating as rapidly and fiercely as mine.
My head was spinning and I could barely comprehend what had just happened. Or why I had allowed it to happen.
Panting, I raised my head so my eyes met with his. A wicked glint shone in his eyes as he fixed them on mine. He remained silent for several painful heartbeats.
Then, he suddenly released me from his tight embrace.
"You can go to your apartment and start packing now, Miss McMahon," he said with a smug smirk tugging at his lips.
My brows knitted in glaring confusion.
"A car will be waiting outside of your apartment tomorrow by nine. Morning. Youll move into my residence–"
I stared at him in disbelief, wondering if I heard right. "I don't understand..."
"I wondered if you would be able to survive in my world. And now I've found everything I need to," he said and his lips stretched into a bright grin. "Congratulations, Steph, you just became my fiancee!"