“That sounds good, Mother. I’ll have my assistant pull my schedule first thing Monday, and I’ll see which day works.”
“You work too hard!”
“Price of owning a business.”
When I’ve said my goodbyes to the rest of my family, I leave the patio, stopping to ask a waiter the direction of the restroom.
My stomach is full, and with no place to be, I decide to walk in the park for a while before texting Ross to pick me up. I’m not expecting to hear from Cecilia forthe next few hours, and with Raina in Paris, the rest of my Sunday is wide open.
Taking my time at the sink, I wash my hands carefully and use a volcanic roller to absorb the excess oils from my skin. After applying a light layer of balm to my lip stain for hydration, I take a deep relaxing breath, thankful that brunch was actually pretty mild.
But I should have known I wouldn’t get out of here scot-free. My happiness is short-lived when I exit the ladies’ room and practically collide with August, who’s leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed, like he has all the time in the world.
A run-in with August was inevitable. There’salwaysa run-in when it comes to him. Why I thought otherwise is beyond me.
“Why are you hanging around outside of the ladies’ room like a creep?” I ask, immediately regretting encouraging a conversation the moment the words are past my lips.
He smirks and reaches out to touch me, but I dodge it by taking a step back. Unfortunately, he takes one forward, crowding me again.
“Came to see you, beautiful.”
“Stop calling me beautiful. It’s not winning you any points.”
“I don’t need it to win me points. I could snap my fingers and make you mine right now, if I wanted to.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a step to the side and attempt to move past him. He steps into my path, blocking me.
Deciding to engage, I ask, “Oh, really? How do you figure? It’s twenty-twenty two. Last time I checked I am free to make my own choices inallaspects of my life.”
“There are ways you can be persuaded. Trust me, I have plenty of ways to make you Mrs. St. Jean, even if it’s thelastthing you want.”
“Planning on drugging me and dragging me to Vegas?”
“It could be arranged.”
Rolling my eyes again, I step to the right and force my way past him, making it a few steps before he grabs me by the arm and spins me so rapidly, I slam against the wall. My head bounces against the drywall, and I wince on impact, my skull immediately aches at the base.
“You may think I’m joking, but I assure you, I’m not. The plan’s already in motion, little Paladino. You’remine. And soon, there will be a rock on that finger that binds you to me inallaspects,” he says with a mocking sneer. “You think Joe and I haven’t been planning? Planting the seeds so daddy dearest thinks it’s all his idea when he happily agrees to make you my bride?”
“He would never,” I spit, turning my head to the side to put the smallest of space between us. He’s too close. With every disgusting word, I can feel his hot breath on my face, and it makes me physically ill.
“Oh, he would. He’s already halfway convinced that I’d be the best thing for you—theperfecthusband. And let’s be honest, Vincenza. He’d be all too happy tosellyou to me if it meant it’d be good for business.”
There’s nothing I can even say back to that, because, at this moment, he’s ‘planting seeds’, as he called it, of doubt into my head, and I can’t help but wonder if my father would actually do that to his only daughter.
“Don’t worry, Vinnie,” August whispers, leaning closer. His hand reaches to brush a rogue curl away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I’ll fuck you so good every night that your pussy will be throbbing. Are you one of those sluts who likes it hard, or are you going to be one of the little bitches who cries the whole time?”
His words send bile up my throat, along with a fierce need to fight back and get away from him.
“You’re disgusting,” I say, pressing both hands against his chest. Shoving him with all my might, I knock him back a couple of steps.
It’s enough for me to get away, but just before I make it to the end of the hall, my brother rounds the corner.
“You’ll get everything you deserve, sweet sister. Don’t you worry. August will take good care of you.”
I don’t stop. I just keep moving, speed-walking through the restaurant with as much dignity as possible, holding in the nausea and fighting back the tears.
When I make it to the front doors, the doorman begins to open them, but I just want out and rudely push past him, throwing open the door myself.
