“Oh, no way, Jess. You don’t want to miss the parties, do you?”
Actually I do. Anything to get away from Carmine. “It’s a really bad headache.”
“Well, get some ibuprofen or something. I’ve got an invite to this party, and we’re going. Besides, we need to talk.”
My eyebrows shoot up. We do, do we? But I don’t say anything. I just follow him to the limo and go along with his plan. I’ve got a little bottle of pills in my purse, so I fish out a couple of ibuprofen so they’re ready as soon as I can get a glass of water or something. Not that I actually have a headache, but if he finds out I’m faking he’ll just get angrier.
The party is noisy, full of B-list celebrities and people I recognize as working for my father. I snag a flute of champagne and pretend to take the pills for my “headache.” Carmine schmoozes with a few people, flirts with an actress who’s about an inch taller than he is, then finally deigns to admit he’s not alone.
He doesn’t introduce me to anyone though. He just grabs my arm and steers me off toward a corner.
“This is where you want to talk?” It seems less than ideal, what with the noise of the crowd and the number of people around us becoming increasingly drunk.
“We talk where I decide we’ll talk.”
He’s getting a little tipsy himself, I realize. I wasn’t keeping very close track of him while he was doing his circuit. He must have tossed off a few of those glasses of champagne while I wasn’t looking.
“Fine.” Might as well get it over with. I have a pretty good idea I know what he wants to talk about.
In the corner, which I have to admit is a bit sheltered from the party’s goings-on, he leans against the wall, effectively hemming me in. He lifts a hand and traces the back of it down my cheek. I’m sure it’s meant to be an affectionate gesture. It just makes me feel that much more cornered.
“So,” he says. “I’m thinking it’s time we set a date.”
“A date?” I’m flummoxed for a minute.
“Yeah. For our wedding.”
Oh God. That. I shrink back a little, trying to keep the abject horror I’m feeling from showing on my face. “Oh. Um… When did you have in mind?”
“Maybe this summer?”
“This summer? So soon?” My heart’s speeding up, and I’m going to spiral right into a panic attack any second now.
“Well, you keep putting it off. I mean, first it was you wanting to finish college, and then you wanting to take a little break after you finished college… What is it now?”
The fact I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to marry you? “I’m thinking of going back to school. You don’t want to get married now. I’ll be so busy.”
His face hardens. “Yeah, your daddy told me something about your plan to get another degree. And that’s not happening.”
“I don’t think that’s your decision.” I’m starting to get queasy. Did Pop put him up to this after our “little talk” the other night?
“It is as long as I’m your husband.”
“You’re not my husband.” Just saying that word in reference to him makes me sicker.
“I will be. And it’s going to happen this summer. So get your pretty little head around that fact.”
He reaches for me again, his hand closing around my arm. I’m already a little sore there where his fingers bit into me before, and they bite in again, right into the same spots. I’d threaten to tell Pop he’s hurting me, but the sad part is Pop won’t care. He’d approve, even. Carmine jerks me closer to him, my chest pressing against his. “I don’t think you understand how this works. You’re promised to me. I own you.”
“Not yet.” My voice is shaking a little, and I hate that. Just the implication that he will own me someday makes my hands tremble. I want to add “not ever,” but again, I don’t want to make him any angrier.
He laughs, and then he kisses me. His mouth is hard and insistent. I want to bite him. I could say the hard kisses remind me of the way Cain is rough with me, but they don’t. It’s a completely different thing. The kind of dominance Carmine’s trying to assert here is repulsive to me. Cain’s is…something entirely else.
I jerk my head back and barely restrain the urge to slap him. “Take me home.”
“I’m not done with this party.”
“Then I’ll call a cab.”
“Like hell you will.” He jerks me by my hand back against him and bends his head so his mouth is against my ear. “You need to learn to obey. I get my ring on your finger, and you’d best do as you’re told.” He bites my earlobe. “The things I’ll do to you…” The chuckle is as repulsive as everything else about him. “Ah, I can’t wait.”