Chapter Seven

GABRIELLA

A lot was going to happen that night, but pleasure was far from it. I stared right at Marcello, who was bare chested, lounging on the bed like he owned the air I breathed.

What was he thinking? A consummation of the marriage vows? Never! A marriage that was built on force had no future.

“You successfully forced me into this marriage, and for some reason you think you’ve won. You haven’t!”

“The problem is, you think this is a fight, but it isn’t,” he chuckled. “I have won already… so this act of yours is quite interesting.”

“Interesting? You murder my father and then drag me to your house to play wife,” I replied.

Getting up from his bed, “Oh, please, your father wasn’t as innocent as you think he is. He was a treacherous…”

“Don’t you dare speak about my father like that,” I cut in. “He’s a dead man, you killed him, so you have no right to insult his name!”

Marcello closed the space between us in three quiet steps.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to engage in an argument with you, so I’m going to make this easy. Strip,” Marcello said.

Strip?

Is this bastard asking me to strip?

Like reflex, I raised my hands to give him a slap, but he held them mid air, wrapping his hands around my waist and dragging me close.

Using one finger, he motioned no.

“The moment you walked inside this house, you became my wife. Everything you had became mine, and that includes your body,” Marcello said sternly.

“You are just a bloody fool. You think you own me.” I laughed sarcastically. “You are drowning in delusion. I am going to get out of here, and I’d make sure you suffer for what you did to my father.”

Releasing his hands from my waist, he dragged me by my arm to a long mirror that was just by the corner of his room. Standing behind me, he signaled my attention to the mirror.

“What you don’t know is, Marcello can have any woman that he wants,” he said in a quiet whisper.

“You should be honored I chose you,” he continued.

His grip was so tight on my arms, I wanted to withdraw, but I couldn’t.

“I am not like many women who fall at your feet. I have standards.”

A smirk formed on his face. “Yet your father was willing to send you off to a man that you didn’t know. Those so called standards of yours don’t hold much weight.”

“Then let me be! Why not pick a random woman of your choice and have them marry you? Why me?”

His eyes went from the mirror to my neck, adjusting my hair so that my neck could be revealed. With accurate precision, he ran a finger down from my ear to my neck, and that sent chills down my spine. It was like his hands were laced with electricity and my body responded to its pull. I was uncomfortable with the very way my body seemed to react.

He’s an enemy.

I cautioned my body.

He leaned in, very close to my ears. I could feel his breath.

“I wonder why I bother in the first place. Look at you, you are so skinny. There’s no ounce of flesh in your body, and you’re not even my type. Even if I wanted to touch you, it wouldn’t bring me pleasure. It would be a waste of my time and energy.”

His hand trailed from my waist up to my neck, then to my temple.

“You should eat some more, maybe then I’d consider touching you,” Marcello said, withdrawing his grip from my body.

I scoffed, having so much to say in my mind but very few words to express it. I watched him walk to the other corner of the room, tapping a button, and in less than two minutes his door opened. A guy walked in carrying a tray of food, different dishes neatly arranged. At Marcello’s signal, he left.

“Sit,” Marcello ordered.

“I’m not sitting. I want to go back to my room.”

“Your persistent disobedience will attract punishment, Gabriella. If you value yourself, you’ll sit still.”

“I’ll take the punishment,” I shot back.

I dared him, and he said nothing, other than opening his safe and bringing out a different kind of chain. He came at me, and I tried to escape, running like a child in a hide and seek game. In no time, he caught up with me, dragged me to a chair, and chained my wrists across the armrests. Then he did the same to my legs.

I felt restrained.

For the first time in my life, aside from the emotional restraints that sometimes came in my father’s house, this was worse.

Marcello dragged the tray closer, dishing out food and pouring a glass of red wine.

“How do you expect me to eat when you’ve tied me up?” I hissed.

“Allow me to treat you like my wife, just for today,” he said.

He sat down, took a spoonful of food, and brought it to my lips. I turned my head away.

“I’m not interested in your food.”

“I never asked if you were,” he replied flatly. “Open your mouth.”

When I refused, he grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open, and shoved the food in.

I chewed slowly, pretending to swallow, then spat it right in his face. I could see his face harden.

He got up, walked to the bathroom to wash off his face, and returned moments later. To my surprise, he said nothing. He sat again, picked up the fork, and took another bite himself.

“Let’s try this again,” he said.

He forced another spoonful between my lips, this time pressing a knife against my neck. The blade was cold.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Like someone eager to meet death, I spat the food out again, this time on his chest.

He didn’t lash out. Instead, he laughed loud, dark, and unrestrained. The sound crawled under my skin, freezing every muscle in my body.

I became terrified.

Terrified of what that laugh meant.

Terrified of what he would do to me next.