Page 3 of Wicked Union
"Mr. Ramiro…" Aria's tone shifts as she speaks to me, but I'm not foolish enough to believe it's me who is influencing theintroduction. She watches my lips caress her skin, but I notice her rubbing the back of her hand when I release her fingers.
"Well, we'll let the two of you chat a bit." My father gestures at her father and starts toward the door to the hallway. "I have a sword collection you may find fascinating, Hector. Come this way." The two head off, leaving us alone, and my body is charged up. I didn't assume I'd be marrying a beast of a woman, but I never expected this beauty.
I stare at her, admiring her poise and the curves of her body for a moment, and when we are alone, I let myself relax a little. She's striking, but so is a pit viper when you see one in nature.
"Aria, is it?" I ask, bringing my drink to my lips to sip.
"It is." She looks around my father's office at the wall of books and the large, chunky leather furniture. "Your father's house is pleasant." She takes a few steps toward the books, and I click my tongue. He hates when people touch his books. Aria looks up at me in annoyance and scowls. "Am I your dog now?"
I chuckle a deep baritone that rumbles into the room, and she scowls harder. "Not yet," I tell her, and I'd make her my little pet. God, the things I'll do to her. "The books aren't for touching, but I have something you can touch…" My dirty insinuation isn't missed by her, and we're off to a good start. I'm riling her up, seeing what she's made of. I like a challenge, and she proves to be exciting.
"Mr. Ramiro, let me make one thing clear. I am no one's toy. I'm not here to please you or serve you. I'm here to align our families for success and for no other reason. While copulation is inevitable, do not think for one second that I will enjoy it." Her eyes claw their way up and down my body in one swift motion,but the way she swallows hard as she does it only betrays her. She finds me attractive. In fact, I can see the look in her eye that she's turned on by me.
"Hmm," I breathe out in a short, staccato tone. I move toward her and she doesn't back away. Good, she's not intimidated by me yet. I like that too, the idea that I can tame that out of her. "Ms. Peralta, make no mistake, you are my toy. And believe me, you will enjoy it. I will devour that body of yours, drink from your pussy until your insides shake, and break you down until you beg me for more." I stand too close. My body thrums with desire for her, but I will contain myself. This is about making sure she knows who I am and what I expect. I can't marry a woman who is faint of heart.
"Be careful who you think may break,scemo. And never underestimate me." Now she has my juices flowing. Trading insult for insult isn't my game, though. She may call me a fool, but I am no one's fool. I smile and back away. I may have met my match.
"You're intoxicating," I tell her, and she doesn't know I can tell, but she breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe she bit off more than she can chew with this little arrangement of ours. I'm happy to help her chew that up and spit it out, though.
"You're a buffoon." Her arms cross defiantly over her chest, as if willing her tits to vanish so I'll stop looking at them.
"And you're gorgeous when you're angry. We'll make adorable babies, won't we?" I chuckle at her just as I hear my father's voice up the hall. He's returning, and my future bride is flustered and red in the cheeks.
I actually like her a little. She's hot under the collar, fiery, and not afraid to stand her ground, and if I'm not mistaken, she's here of her own accord. The bold nature of her personality strikes me the right way. If we met under different circumstances, I may have been able to tolerate her longer than a week or two. This might not be such a bad match after all, which is why when my father brings out the contracts, I'm more than happy to sign my name on the line, right above Aria's.
My life just got a whole lot more interesting. Not only will I have more territory and influence, but I’ll also have a foxy new wife to bang every night. The boys at the club will nut when they hear about this.
3
ARIA
"Yes, Papa." I kiss my father on the cheek as he grips my head between his thick palms. His eyes search mine, and while I can't hide every emotion I'm feeling about this wedding, I can at least reveal the ones I feel toward him. "I give you my word that I'm okay with this arrangement. It was my idea, wasn't it?" Even as I say the words, I cringe inside.
My neck is tense. My shoulders so tight I can't relax them. Tito Ramiro is wickedly handsome, and his scorching good looks may fool some women—they almost fool me. I just can't see past the way his family looks at this union as if their territory will expand. Father may be relinquishing some of his control for a portion of time as outlined in the contract, but Jasper will reclaim control of the entire organization in ten years, and nothing they do can stop that.
"Mia cara," he whispers, his forehead creasing in deep emotion. "If you say the word, I will pull the plug. We can find a way. We don't have to do this." His eyes continue to search me fervently, but I will not betray him by backing out. I hate this entire plan,loathe the very concept of arranged marriages with my whole being, but if I don't do this, Father will lose everything he’s built since he was only my age.
"Go, please." I smile at him and pat his hands, pulling them away from my face. My eyes sparkle with emotion, but not the way a bride's eyes typically do on her wedding day. These tears are screaming for him to save me, to cut the contract in two and back out, but they will never be heard. "I have a wedding to prepare for, and my groom isn't one to be kept waiting. Besides, you love cake."
He backs away, but I know he's still uncertain. This is my choice. I am saving my family in the only way I can. I can't rob a bank and steal millions to bail him out, and though Jasper is more than capable of pulling off a heist to do something, Father won't allow it. It's too risky. The family needs him to lead someday, and Father isn't getting any younger.
I watch Dad walk down the hallway toward the sanctuary of this massive cathedral the Ramiros booked for our impromptu ceremony, and I feel Melody slip her hand into mine. She lays her head on my shoulder and sighs, and I shut the thick, arched wooden door. I can't cry in front of my father because I know he'll back out and save me rather than himself, but I can cry in front of Melody, so I do. The tears stream down my cheeks without reservation, and I turn so she can wrap her arms around me.
"Heavens," Mom says, rushing toward me with a tissue. "I just finished your makeup, Aria. You're going to smudge it."
My chin rests on Melody's shoulder, and Mom dabs at the tear streaks on my cheeks, but I can't stop the tears. I may have towash my face and redo all of Mom's hard work, but for now, I let the emotion out.
"Hey, it's okay. Dad's right, Ari. If you want to call it off, you should." Melody has one hand rubbing my back and the other still gripping mine. I don't think I can get through this without her.
Mom continues to dab my cheeks as I cry. She silently supports me, though I know she understands this pain I'm feeling. I'm given the choice, and I am making it freely of my own accord. She was never given the choice, though now, she and my father have a good, loving relationship. But he is a good man. Unfortunately for me, the man I'm set to marry is a monster.
"Aria, it will be okay." Mom pats my cheek, and I straighten and sniffle, taking another tissue from her as I walk away from Melody. "Marriage isn't always a partnership in love. Sometimes, it is a sacrifice." Her words do little to calm me or assuage my anger.
I can't blame my father. Life can't be controlled, and things are completely out of his hands. I know if it were up to him, I would be free to select my husband, and I am the one doing this. I just wish the arrangement fell to a kinder man, a man like my father. Tito Ramiro proved his unworthiness by his comments when we met last week. He thinks of me as nothing more than a toy, which is the weight I carry on my shoulders as I slump into the white leather armchair situated at the vanity.
"Just tell Papa you don't want to do this, Ari." Melody drops to her knees at my feet and uncrumples part of my white satin gown, and I blankly stare at my melancholy appearance in the mirror.
Dark circles ring my eyes, barely hidden by Mom's makeup job after crying so much. My lips are chapped—evidence of dehydration brought on by the depression I've sunken into. The gown is modest too, covering any hint of cleavage. I don't need to give that snake something to look at any sooner than I have to. He doesn't deserve it.
