Chapter 3 Angela

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the dress my father had insisted on choosing for me. In all my twenty years, I had never worn anything like it. I was almost certain that my childhood clothes were more modest than this dress.

"Angela looks like a prostitute," Alessia muttered, still leaning against the wall.

My mother sighed, looking at me with disapproval, but she had contributed to this circus, overdoing my makeup in a sensual and provocative way. My eyes were painted with dark shadow, and my lips were marked with bold lipstick, drawing more attention than I ever had.

"Your sister is a Mancini; she'd never be mistaken for a prostitute," my mother said, giving me one last look.

I highly doubted that, dressed like this, I wouldn't be mistaken for a prostitute. After all, my father had made me wear this tight, low-cut dress to show Filippo what he'd gain from the marriage.

I was disgusted by it all, disgusted with myself for letting myself be handed over like this, so compliant, without fighting or resisting, just letting myself be displayed like one of the women who stripped at the nightclub I knew my father and his men frequented.

The only difference between them and me was that I was being forced to do this, would receive nothing in return, and could only do it for my husband-a man I didn't even choose.

The red dress hugged my hips and waist, ending high on my thighs, leaving my legs exposed. The top had a deep neckline that revealed much of my breasts, forcing me to go without a bra, with only the dress's built-in cups supporting them.

My hair was let down in waves, cascading to the floor. I wished I could wear something more modest.

"You look like a woman," Enrico murmured, staring at me with confusion, and that alone could make me smile in this situation.

"I am a woman, Rico. What did you think I was?"

"No, you were my friend. Now you look like a boring grown-up woman."

I laughed, smoothing the fabric again, wishing it would somehow stretch to cover my thighs, at least down to my knees, but that wasn't going to happen. Tonight was my exhibition, and if my father wanted, I'd be wearing a damn bikini.

"Trust me, boring is the last thing the men downstairs will think of our little sister," Alessia said, finally stepping closer and appearing beside me in the mirror's reflection.

"This isn't for the other men. None of them would dare look at her with ulterior motives!" my mother interjected. "This is for Filippo. Your sister is just showing that she's a woman-beautiful, sensual, and confident, proving she's perfect to be the wife of a future capo."

I was sure Filippo would like it. My cousin had texted me about my future husband's promiscuous life-a bastard who went out with more women than was respectable. The man was no good, but what could I do? Even my father acted like that, keeping a long line of mistresses despite being married for so many years and having so many children.

"Here," my mother said, handing me a pair of high-heeled sandals. Without arguing, I slipped my feet into them, with Alessia helping me tie them around my ankles.

Mom forced a fake smile and looked at me as if she approved of what stood before her, when we both knew that wasn't true.

"Mom..." I said hesitantly, but she stepped back, heading to the door and opening it.

"Let's go. It's time. We can't keep them waiting any longer," she said. I moved out of the room, followed by my siblings as she led the way. "I'll enter through the side with your siblings. You need to appear alone. Your father will formally introduce you to Filippo, and then you'll have a few minutes alone with him."

"What?" I asked, stunned, because they hadn't told me that part.

How wonderful-dressing me up like a slut and throwing me into a room alone with a man who was supposed to approve me as his new acquisition. I couldn't even imagine what he might do to me.

"Calm down. You won't be alone for long. We'll be waiting for you in the dining room," she said, placing her hands over mine in solidarity with my trembling. "He'll probably kiss you. Don't pull away, daughter. He's your fiancé from the moment your father introduces you."

"Mom, I've never kissed anyone in my life!"

"He'll like that. He'll be happier to be your first! Just please him, let him do everything, and when you feel ready, respond." I opened my mouth in shock, unable to believe this conversation was actually happening. "Remember what's at stake tonight. Don't challenge him and risk ruining the deal. Things could get very ugly."

For a moment, I wanted to grab her hand and beg her to stay with me, to not leave me alone with that man, but instead, I sighed and lifted my face, pretending to be tough.

"Good luck!" Alessia shouted as Mom dragged her down the hallway toward the living room.

I stood there in front of the door, my heart nearly leaping out of my throat, thinking of a thousand and one ways this night could go wrong, how this marriage might not happen, and especially how many different ways Filippo could kiss me and be crude.

Men's laughter echoed from behind the door-my father and my future husband, in a room full of the most powerful and dangerous men in the country, and I was supposed to walk in. A lamb alone among wolves.

Without thinking further, I grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door. Even before stepping inside, I could feel the eyes on me. Without looking at anyone in particular, I walked a few steps, my movements faltering, until my father appeared in front of me.

The conversation had died down; the laughter stopped. Everyone just stared at me. He took my hand without a word and led me further into the room. As we passed the crowd, I saw my mother talking in a corner with other mafia wives.

When my father's steps slowed, I turned my eyes forward and came face-to-face with Filippo. His piercing gaze left me frozen. He scanned every curve of my body in a lascivious way, as if undressing me, then set down his whiskey glass before approaching.

I quickly scanned the faces of the gathered men, all staring at me as if they'd never seen me before-and maybe they hadn't, not dressed like this.

"This is my Angela!" my father announced, as if everyone didn't already know, and placed a hand on my back, gently pushing me forward.

My father studied Filippo's face, looking for approval, as if expecting him to fall to his knees in admiration. But seeing the raw, filthy desire on that jerk's face made my stomach churn.

I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I had never been subjected to so much attention. The way Filippo looked at me sent shivers down my spine.

"You didn't exaggerate when you said little Angela had grown into a beautiful woman," Filippo said, licking his lips and stepping closer, taking my hand and planting a kiss on it.

I couldn't believe my father had said those things about me to him, offering me up like an expensive piece of meat he was buying.

This was about the war. He should be happy about uniting and gaining a better chance against the Bratva, but apparently, they only cared about me.

"Why don't we leave the future bride and groom alone for a few minutes?" my father announced with a smile, and my heart raced.

I looked around for any objection or comment, but everyone began leaving the room, including my father, who smiled triumphantly. Alessia and Enrico were the last to leave, pulled along by my mother, and then the door closed behind them, nearly making me jump.

"Good to finally be alone with you, little bride," Filippo said, circling me, assessing me. "I've been dreaming about this all week."

His hand slid over my backside, and I jumped, stepping away from him, shocked by his boldness, knowing everyone was in the next room. Filippo curled his lips into a sickening smile and took a step forward, closing the distance. He grabbed my waist, holding me tightly against him before lowering his face toward mine.

His lips touched mine, and the smell of alcohol invaded my nostrils, making me gag. Before I could process his body so close, his mouth, his scent, his tongue forced itself against my lips, making me even more nauseated.

"What's wrong? Open your mouth, little bride!"

"I... I've never kissed before," I mumbled, embarrassed, hoping that would make him go slower.

"That's going to be fun, but don't worry, I'll teach you everything I like in bed and train you to please me." He brought a hand to my chin, gripping it tightly before rubbing two fingers over my lips. "Open your damn mouth." He forced two fingers inside, making me part my lips, and shoved them in. "You'll be perfect for swallowing my cock."

Disgust overwhelmed me, but I remembered what my mother said-I couldn't do anything that might start another war tonight. So he leaned in again, replacing his fingers with his repulsive tongue.

I stood there, waiting for it to end, but Filippo had other ideas. His hand on my waist grabbed my backside, and I protested, trying to pull away as his fingers dug into my flesh. His other hand slid over my chest, tracing the neckline of my dress, and fear gripped me about what he might do next.

I shook myself free and pushed my hands against his chest, shoving him away until I broke free from his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, stepping back further.

Before I could get far enough, Filippo grabbed my hand and yanked me back against his chest with force.

"I'm touching what's going to be mine!" he growled, sliding his hand over my body again, seeming to enjoy my discomfort. "I want to see you try to escape me like this when we're married. You'll be mine, and I'll do whatever I want with you."

That only made me more nervous. Then he let me go, shoving me carelessly, and reached inside his suit jacket. For a ridiculous second, I thought he might pull out a gun.

But instead, he took out a small black velvet box and opened it with a bored expression while I watched his movements. He pulled out a solitaire ring with a large diamond-an engagement ring.

Filippo grabbed my hand and forced the ring onto my finger, pushing harder when it felt tight, not caring about the pressure. For a moment, I thought he might break my finger.

"Thank you," I felt obliged to say, even forcing myself to look at him, though the same couldn't be said for his eyes. They looked furious.

"Proof that you'll soon be mine. I just have to wait until the end of the month!" he said, extending his arm. I forced myself to take it and let him lead us out of there.

I should've been relieved that we'd be surrounded by other people, and he wouldn't be able to touch me inappropriately. But how long could I delay this? As the bastard himself said, I only had until the end of the month before I'd be declared his, losing any right to my own will.