“How did you sleep?” he asks.
“Okay,” I reply.
He narrows his gaze. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”
“No,” I admit. “I’m sorry, I’m just homesick.” Stick to the truth but pretend.
“Understandable. It has been a relatively stressful time for you since your arrival.”
“You mean since I was drugged and abducted from my house?” I ask. Gio talks about it like Mattheus simply lied and manipulated me into coming. Instead, he’d done something that would land him in prison.
“Yes.” Gio’s tone is harsher now than I’ve heard it since I was brought here. “He’s been punished for it, I can assure you that.”
“Punished? He’s in his thirties.”
“Does that mean we no longer need direction from our parents?” The way he asks the question slithers beneath my skin, but before I can respond, the door opens. “Ah, yes. Just in time. Please, come in.” He holds out his hand, and I turn to see a man walk into the room.
A chill runs up my spine as I watch him stroll into the room like he owns the place. He’s tall and muscled, both arms covered in dark ink. A gigantic snake is tattooed up the side of his neck, with the mouth opening right beside his as though it’s ready to devour whatever he wills.
Both ears have large black gauges in them, and his blonde hair is slicked back. His eyes are so dark they might as well be black, and when they land on me, my stomach churns in response.
When he takes a seat right beside me—between me and Gio—I shift my focus straight ahead, not missing the pitying expression the woman who brought me my coffee wears when she looks from him to me.
Never in my life have I met a person who managed to instill fear into me by simply being in the same room—until now. And somehow I know, without a doubt, that this is the future Gio has planned for me.
A wife for this monster.
I swallow hard—my heart hammering. Pretend, Emma. You have to pretend.
Lord, please help me.
“Heath, this is my daughter, Emmaline.” Gio gestures toward me, a proud smile on his face. “Emmaline, this is Heath Slater.”
Heath reaches out and takes my hand, then presses it to his lips, eyes on mine the entire time. “Emmaline, you are a rare beauty indeed.”
“I—thanks.” The area of my hand where his lips pressed burns like his mouth is coated in acid. My skin crawls as he releases me, and I have to fight the urge to gag when bile burns my throat.
“Of course.” He turns to Gio. “You did not oversell her, my friend. She is beautiful.”
“As I said she was. The spitting image of her mother.”
“Yes, yes. You were right.”
Nausea churns in my belly, so even though the last thing I want to do is turn my gaze away from this monster of a man, I prep my coffee, hoping I can manage to diffuse this conversation before it takes the turn I fear it will.
I no longer care if it’s drugged. Maybe by the time I wake, the Hunts will be here to rescue me.
“Have you heard from your pilot?” I ask Gio, fighting to keep my tone level even as my hand shakes while I stir my coffee. “Has the storm passed?”
“It has,” he replies, though he doesn’t elaborate. “Emma has never been married and is a kindergarten teacher.”
“You like kids?” Heath questions.
“Yes. I do.”
“Why have you never been married?” he asks.
Breathe. I’m honestly shocked neither of them can hear my hammering heart. “Just never met the right man, I suppose.”
