5: Unhappy Marriage

William carefully cleaned the bite on Ginevra’s arm before starting to stitch her up. She lay curled up on the examination table, sobbing and trembling like a leaf.

"I can’t take this anymore," she cried between sobs.

I took a deep breath. I hated dealing with other people’s emotions. I couldn’t stand the crying, the pleading. It messed with my head. But seeing her like that… made me feel something else. Something I didn’t like admitting to: concern.

"Stop crying," I told her calmly.

She did the opposite. She broke down harder.

William looked at me while taking off his gloves.

"I think she’s in shock."

I nodded.

"Leave us alone," I ordered.

He left without another word.

I approached her.

"Stop crying or I’ll give you a real reason to."

She slowly sat up on the table, looking at me. Her terrified eyes were defiant. And that… turned me on.

"And if I don’t, what then?" she challenged.

I inhaled deeply. She was pushing me. I got closer, grabbed her jaw gently, forcing her to look into my eyes. She trembled under my touch.

"I’ll take my dogs for a walk to your parents’ house," I whispered.

She let out a laugh — half sob, half scoff.

"You don’t even know them. Don’t threaten me."

I laughed. After all she’d seen, she still underestimated me.

"Do you really think that? Don’t test me, Ginevra. Or your parents, your sisters, and that little nephew of yours will end up being my dogs’ dinner. Watch your words."

She pushed my hand away and curled up again.

"I’m sorry. But you always provoke me," I said.

"I hate you," she whispered, still crying.

"I don’t care. Now stop crying."

She shook her head. I turned to leave.

Then the door flew open. My father walked in. He didn’t look at me — just went straight to her.

I stepped between them, meeting his gaze.

"Aren’t you going to introduce me to your wife?" he asked, wearing that mocking tone that drove me mad.

I smirked and stepped aside.

"Of course you can."

He looked her over carefully, then turned to me.

"Is it true she’s pregnant?"

I nodded.

He smiled, satisfied. He’d been pressuring me for an heir for years. I always refused. Until her. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have allowed the baby. But Ginevra had something that drove me crazy. The idea of having a child with her… didn’t seem so bad.

"She’s scared shitless. Where did you find her?" he asked.

I looked at her.

"It’s the dogs, right, darling?"

She glanced up and nodded, but her eyes told a different story.

"She doesn’t belong in this world," my father said.

I chuckled softly.

"Neither did my mother, and she’s always stood by your side."

"It’s your choice, son, and I’ll respect it. But you know better than anyone that being part of this family isn’t easy."

And I knew. But I wanted her. In my own way, I wanted her.

"She’s my wife, the mother of my child, and already part of this family."

Ginevra straightened a little on the table, her eyes still glistening with tears. God… I wanted to lick every drop off her face.

"The Rossettis are already planning your wedding to their daughter," he reminded me with a laugh.

"Idiots," I muttered.

"Can I go to the room now?" she whispered.

My father gave me a meaningful look.

"You should show her what it means to be one of us."

I nodded. The sooner she saw who I really was, the better.

"Bring her," he said.

I walked up to her and yanked her off the table. She fell to the floor. My father raised an eyebrow.

"Isn’t she pregnant?"

I picked her up in my arms. I didn’t like anyone else touching what was mine.

We walked through the garden to the back rooms.

"Where are you taking me?" Ginevra sobbed.

"Let’s call it a test. To see if you can handle belonging to this family."

My father opened the door. Inside, a man was tied to a chair.

He offered Ginevra a seat. I set her down in front of the man. She looked at him, then at me.

"I want to leave," she begged.

My father stood behind the man, pulled out a knife, and pressed it to his throat.

Ginevra screamed.

I covered her eyes before she saw too much. But the sounds… the gasps… the blood…

She cried and begged. Her desperation cut through me like a blade.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I lifted her from the chair and pressed her to my chest. I buried her head in my shoulder to shield her from the horror.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me, vulnerable.

"Take me upstairs, please," she whispered. And how could I say no to those terrified eyes?

I looked at my father. He held my gaze, stern.

"You’re the head of this family now, Valentino. Any weakness will be used against you. You know that."

And I did. For me to be perfect, she had to change too.

"I’ll marry her tomorrow. Call the judge," I ordered.

He nodded. Ginevra was trembling in my arms. I held her tighter.

---

The next morning came too fast.

It was a carefully orchestrated disaster.

My father brought a judge who asked no questions. The backyard was decorated with flowers — probably my mother’s idea. There were three witnesses: William, Jacob, and a woman I didn’t know.

Ginevra was forced into a cheap white dress, like a damn tablecloth. Her face was pale, eyes swollen. She could barely stand.

No music. No smiles. No rings.

I stood by the judge, scowling. I hated her expression. I wanted to break her, kiss her, mark her so she’d never forget who she belonged to.

She stood next to me, lost, eyes vacant. She looked like she was praying for death before it started. But no. I wouldn’t let death take what was mine.

"We are gathered here today to unite Valentino Salvatore and Ginevra Callahan…" the judge began.

"Yeah, whatever. Get on with it," I cut in.

The judge frowned but continued.

"Do you take Valentino Salvatore as your lawful husband?"

She didn’t answer. The question was repeated twice more.

On the third time, my father cleared his throat. She trembled, swallowed, and finally whispered:

"I do."

That was enough. We signed. The judge concluded the ceremony.

I grabbed her jaw, pulled her to me, and kissed her. This time, I took my time. She resisted, then gave in. Let me into her mouth. She gasped. Then she pushed me away, shocked by her own reaction.

"I hate you," she said, staring into my eyes.

"I know. And you’ve no idea how much that turns me on."

My father called me over. I walked to him. He congratulated me. So did my mother.

I turned to look at her.

Ginevra was broken. Silently falling apart, as if her soul was slipping away.

If I could feel compassion for anyone… it would be for her.