by Eva Charles
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snarl, the hatred eclipsing the fear in my heart.
“Both you and the vineyards have been mine since the moment your father took his last breath. And Daniela, you will get on your knees for me. Make no mistake about it.”
4
Daniela
The bastard isn’t talking about kneeling in prayer. What a monster.
You expected something different from the son of o diabo?
No. Not really. But the foolish girl inside remembers Antonio differently. At least she wants to remember him differently.
If you listen to her, she’ll lead you to danger. It’s true. She will.
“I want to speak to Pedro Moniz.”
Antonio releases his grip on my hair and sits back, his long fingers drumming on the desk. “Moniz is my attorney. It’s unlikely he’ll talk to you about my business matters. Not if he wants to live long enough to play with his pretty young wife tonight.”
Oh my God. Moniz was in on the whole thing. It was an ambush. I walked right into the trap without even a whiff of their scheme.
How could my father’s closest friend have sold me out like this? I’ve known him all my life. He was at my birthday parties and at the church for my First Communion. He would come on Christmas and eat at our table and share our wine. He held my hand while my father passed.
Papai trusted him. He told me to trust Moniz too. “Pedro knows everything about my business matters. Don’t hesitate to go to him for advice. He’ll guide you wisely, Daniela.”
The traitorous bastard guided me, all right. Straight into the wolf’s lair.
I should have known better.
Pedro Moniz belongs to my father’s world—Antonio’s world. The old boys’ club that controls everything in Porto. I’m a woman. A young woman. And clearly naive. Even if Antonio wasn’t a threat, Moniz would never betray the silent oath that binds powerful men—not even for me.
“Quinta Rosa do Vale already belongs to me. As do you.”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m certain he can see it through my jacket. I need a plan. A foolproof one. And I need it now.
I dig into my tote for some balm and glide it over my lips as he watches quietly. Chapped lips are the least of my worries, but it buys me a little time.
Maybe, maybe, he owns the property—I’ll need to see proof—but this is the twenty-first century, and human beings cannot be owned like pets. Not even in Porto.
I can’t come up with a viable plan. Nothing. All I can do is draw this out, hoping that something will come to me—before it’s too late.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His eyes blaze as he speaks. The victor with the spoils in reach. “Your father bequeathed me the property on the condition I marry you. It’s time for me to make good on my end of the deal.”
Every inch of me is numb. Inside and out. It’s almost as though he’s speaking in tongues, using words and phrases no mortal can comprehend.
I’m a pawn in a deal. Chattel for barter.
My father arranged my marriage—to a Huntsman. The very people responsible for my mother’s torture and death. Papai loved her with every piece of his heart. Every single one. And he loved me. I’m sure of it.
I glance up at Antonio. His eyes are soft, and I see what looks like pity in his expression. But no regret. There’s nothing that even resembles regret or remorse, and he’s certainly not seeking forgiveness. Men like him never seek forgiveness. Not even with their last breath.
If I want to be free of him, I need to appeal not to his heart or conscience, but to his practical sense. Because in the end he’ll do what’s best for him.
“You don’t want to marry me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts slyly. “Not any more than you want to marry me. Maybe less.”
Could he be more of an asshole?
“Here’s the truth, Daniela. Even if frivolous emotions were part of my nature, I would never marry for love. When I take a wife, it will be strictly a business decision. You were offered to me with a priceless piece of property.” He shrugs. “Why not you?”
I swallow hard, my insides quivering.
His tone is emotionally bankrupt. Devoid of all passion—let alone anything approximating love. It’s chilling. Even if he wanted me just for sex, it would feel more humane. This is a cold, calculated business decision. One I had no voice in.
I don’t know what my father was thinking.
Papai knew my pain. He never invited Antonio to our home while I was there—not until he was dying, and then only that one time. My father knew the risks involved with marrying into the Huntsman family—especially when he was gone and couldn’t protect us. I can’t believe that, in the end, he chose this for me. That he would take this kind of risk. I don’t believe it.
“My father would never arrange a marriage between your family and mine.”
The words come from my mouth, but I almost don’t recognize myself speaking. It’s as though I’m standing outside my body, watching the events of my life unfold. Disassociating. I’ve never had therapy, but I’ve learned a lot about trauma. The last time I experienced something like this, I was twelve. Maybe I haven’t toughened up.
“We’re going to have serious problems,” he warns, “if you don’t start trusting my word.”
“We already have serious problems.” My voice is flat and hollow, reflecting the defeat I feel inside.
Antonio raps his knuckles on the polished desk. “The circumstances are unique, and I imagine this news comes as a shock.”
A shock? A shock is when wet fingers touch a live wire. This is ripping my beating heart from my chest and stomping on it.
“I’ll humor you, today,” he adds, like he’s doing me a big favor. “But this will be the last time I provide evidence to back up my word. And it will be the last time you accuse me of being a liar.”
He hands me a laminated sheet of paper from the desk. “That should address your concerns.”
I stare at the page. At first, the individual letters are all I see. The black lines and swirls blending into one another. Eventually I begin to make out words.
It’s a simple contract. One sheet of paper, front and back, signed by Huntsman and my father. My heart clenches at Papai’s familiar scrawl.
Near each signature, there’s a small mahogany spatter. I draw a deep breath to steady my trembling hand. The stain is a drop of each man’s blood. I’m certain of it.
A blood oath.
My chest aches.
Unless this is another sham, I’m screwed.
Antonio would never go back on his word. Not on a blood pact he made with my father. To do so would bring great dishonor to his name. No one would trust him to keep a deal of any significance. It would make it impossible for him to continue as a serious leader.
Valentina’s sweet face appears before my eyes—and Isabel, ringing her weathered hands. Don’t worry. I’m not surrendering. Not yet.
“You coerced a dying man into a blood oath? That’s low, even for someone named Huntsman.”
The rational part of my brain knows he didn’t force my father into anything. Even on his deathbed, my father wasn’t the kind of man who could be pushed around easily. But I want to believe Papai was threatened. I need to believe it.
Antonio doesn’t flinch as he takes the paper out of my hand and pulls out his phone. He scrolls for a few seconds before holding the screen inches from my face.
I gasp at my father sitting in a chair—his deep voice is unmistakable. And strong. My eyes well as I listen to him trade me away as though I’m a basket of grapes.
How could you do this to me? I always tried to be a good girl, a good daughter. I took good care of you, right until the end. Why would you do this to me?
Antonio and my father memorialized the contract so no one could quarrel with it. Papai signed of his own free will. There’s nothing to suggest otherwise, only an abundance of evidence to supp
ort a consensual agreement.
He approached Huntsman with the marriage arrangement.
It’s a punch to the gut. The kind that catches you unaware. I want to curl up in a ball and sob for days. But I can’t afford to be soft. I need to be as heartless as he is if I expect to have any say in my future.
Antonio plays the video again, but I’ve heard enough. I shove the phone away and find the nerve to peer into his vacant eyes.
“I’m not marrying you.”
5
Daniela
Antonio’s gaze skims my body, not in a sexual way, but as though he’s taking stock of my appearance.
I’m wearing some of my best clothes, but they’ve been laundered many times. The black blazer has taken on a bit of a shiny hue, and it’s frayed at the seams. It’s meager, especially when compared to the fine suit Antonio is wearing.
“Why not?” he asks gruffly. “It’s not as though you’re such a prize. I was promised a princesa, and yet, here you are, looking like the beggar’s wife.”
The tears sting the back of my eyes. Don’t you dare give him your tears.
I blink a few times to clear my vision, and gear up for a fight.
“I’ll go to the police. Or the UN. You can’t kidnap a woman across international borders. There are laws that even you can’t disregard.”
“You came to Porto of your own accord. I won’t dignify the I’ll go to the police with a response. We both know that will get you nowhere. The UN?” He chuckles. “Clever. There’s only one problem. You left a trail of bodies behind, Daniela. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but the prisons here aren’t as cushy as those in the US.”
I shake my head. “Threaten all you want, but I haven’t killed anyone.”
“The man who forged your travel documents died mysteriously around the time you fled the country. Then there’s Isabel’s husband. Although I don’t believe his body has been recovered—yet. I’m sure there are others the authorities can connect to you.”
I bring a shaky hand to my mouth. Jorge, Isabel’s husband, started drinking heavily a year ago, and about six months ago, right before he disappeared, his behavior changed radically. He turned sullen at the drop of a dime, and belligerent without provocation. In my heart, I knew he was dead, but I always assumed it was the result of a bar fight. I never imagined—
I can’t bear to look at him. “You murdered Jorge?”
“Not me. But he was drinking too much, and talking too much. He was willing to sell some of your secrets. Sounds like a perfect motive for murder. Did Isabel help you? How about her daughter—Valentina, right? Do they have the death penalty in the US for accomplices?”
I lunge at him like a savage with nothing to lose. But he captures my wrists before I can claw out his eyes.
“Save your scratching and biting for the honeymoon, Princesa. And your energy. You’ll need it.”
“Let go of me, you bastard.” The words emerge with great contempt, but it’s only a small slice of the hate in my heart.
He yanks me closer, securing my hands behind my back and caging my legs between his. “Listen carefully,” he murmurs, right above my temple. “Because I’m not going to say it again. No one—no one attacks me without paying a hefty price. That includes you. You’ve been warned.”
After I’ve digested his warning, he lets me go.
I step back and sink into the chair.
I don’t care what he claims. He killed Jorge—or had him killed. And Leo, who painstakingly put together all the travel documents for us. Why? Did their deaths have something to do with the property? With me? Are they dead because of me?
I glance at him while he scrolls through his phone. How can someone so beautiful on the outside be so ugly inside?
Maybe they’re not dead. Maybe he’s manipulating me.
“You’re right about one thing, Daniela. There are laws. But here, I make the laws. Don’t make the mistake of thinking otherwise.”
A shiver runs through me. I won’t make that mistake. I can’t afford to die. My heart twists. I don’t want to die.
Somehow, I need to get out of Porto and back to the US—to Isabel and Valentina. And more important, I need to warn them, because they might not be safe either.
“I’ll sign whatever you need. You don’t want to marry me. You said so yourself. I have obligations to attend to in the US.”
“Obligations? Like cleaning bathrooms? The princesa scrubbing piss from toilet rims. How charming.”
I shove down the lump in my throat. Until now, I’ve never been embarrassed about cleaning other people’s messes. After all, for years someone cleaned mine. But as much as I hate to admit it, his taunting stings.
“It’s not glamorous, but it’s honest work. Unlike what you do.”
“I do what your father did, and what your grandfather before him did.” Antonio glowers at me. “It’s what allowed you to wear the pretty dresses and jewels, and keep show horses. Spare me the sanctimony.”
The image of my father signing me away is imprinted on my brain. He proved himself as ruthless as any of them, taking his parting shot from the grave. Like a fucking coward.
Did he secretly blame me for my mother’s death, and this is his revenge? His beloved Rosa was murdered while I was spared. I didn’t fight hard enough. I didn’t fight at all.
You can fight now. You’re not twelve anymore.
“Don’t you have more questions for me?” He tips his head to the side. “Perhaps about Quinta Rosa do Vale. You have my attention. Now would be a good time to ask.”
I do. But more than anything, right now, I want to get out of this room. The rest will have to wait. The longer I’m here, the less likely I’ll be allowed to leave.
I pick up my tote and hook it over my shoulder as I stand. “I don’t care what kind of proof you have. Video can be manipulated easily. I’m not buying any of it.”
His jaw clenches. I’m five feet five, but he towers above me, a vein in his neck pulsing.
“Your father gave me the vineyards in exchange for the promise that I would marry you and ensure your safety. I intend to honor that promise.”
Ensure my safety. He gave me to the beast, to save me from the ogres.
Maybe my father’s intentions were nothing more than misguided, maybe, but it doesn’t matter. In the end, they’re all monsters.
“Manuel D’Sousa is dead. I’m his daughter. His blood. I’m releasing you from your promise. You can have the vineyards, but you don’t need to be saddled with me.”
I’m inches from the door when he grabs me from behind and shoves me against the wall roughly, using his hips to pin me there. Before I can react, his lips are on mine.
I use my fists to ward him off before his mouth makes me feel things I don’t want to feel.
He captures my wrists, and in one effortless move, he secures them above my head. “You can fight me all you want. But just like those juicy grapes, you belong to me.”
His cock is hard, and every time either of us draws a breath, it grazes my belly, reminding me of everything the arrangement entails.
I don’t want to have sex with him, especially here, like this—I don’t. But I’d be lying if I said my body wasn’t reacting to his swollen cock. The pulsing between my legs is impossible to ignore. Like last time. And just like last time, my arousal makes me feel ashamed and traitorous. My mother’s memory deserves better. I deserve better.
“You’ll give me everything. And if you have an ounce of brains in that pretty little head, you’ll learn to like it. I warned you that when I came for you, it would be for more than a kiss.”
“Please,” I beg, knowing it will get me nowhere. But I’m desperate, and I don’t know what else to do. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what, Daniela? Don’t fuck you against this dirty wall? Don’t lay you across that desk and torment you until everyone in the building hears you beg for my cock?” He brushes his nose against mine
. “Maybe you’d like that.”
Without thinking, I spit at him.
He doesn’t flinch, but his words get uglier.
“Did you let your boyfriend, Josh, lick that tight little pussy? My pussy. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him for touching what’s mine.”
The panic inside me is welling, seconds from exploding all over the room. He must sense it too.
“I’ve never forced a woman to do anything she didn’t want to do—not sexually. But if you continue to push me, you’ll be the first. I’ll redden your ass until you can’t sit for a month, and then I’ll fuck you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”
I look him straight in the eye. “You’re a monster.”
“I am. Here’s a little piece of advice for you, Princesa. Don’t poke monsters. Because we’ll devour you without a shred of mercy—and toss your bones into the gutter.”
He releases me, then uses a tissue from the desk to wipe his cheek.
“Cristiano will take you to our home in the valley.” Antonio drops the tissue into the trash, his eyes never leaving mine. “I strongly recommend that you don’t try to run. There are guards all over the property—and the punishment for defying my order will be more than you can bear.”
I’m out of time. He’s not going to let me leave Porto. I need to think of something.
“If you expect me to live here, I need to go back to the US to tie up loose ends and pack my belongings.”
“You have nothing to tie up.” He fingers my blazer. His disgust is palpable. “You need to pack more of this? Cheap clothing from a discount store? Or did you buy this used?”
I feel his sneer in my marrow, but I don’t respond.
“I don’t want that garbage in my house. Everything you need will be provided for you.”
“I’m your prisoner?” My voice wobbles. Stop it, Daniela. Stay strong. Strength is the only thing men like him respect.
“I’ve been gone for six years,” I continue, my head high, “but the D’Sousas have lived in the valley since the beginning. Not everyone has forgotten me. And they certainly haven’t forgotten my family. Holding me captive will just make you more enemies.”
