The Rinaldi Bargain

Chapter Four

MORNING light seeped through heavy velvet curtains slow and pale. Snow woke before the sun fully cleared the mountain peaks. She lay perfectly still for long seconds trying to place where she was.

The scent of old wood, cedar and something dark and masculine filled the air. A heavy warm arm draped firm across her waist pulled her tight against a solid chest she had learned belonged to Silas.

Her breath caught sharp.

Every muscle locked rigid instantly. She remembered everything. The wedding. The drive. The slaughter downstairs. Him dragging her into this room and refusing to sleep anywhere else.

Silas shifted behind her with a low rough hum against her shoulder blade. He did not wake fully right away but his hold only grew tighter.

Snow’s heart hammered hard enough to rattle her ribs. She tried easing his arm off slow and careful. He felt like iron.

“Stop wiggling,” he mumbled. His half asleep voice was thick and gravelly. “Keep that up and I will assume you are begging for trouble.”

“I am trying to get up,” she hissed, face heating fast. “Let go.”

“People usually ask nicely first,” he grumbled yet his grip loosened just enough for her to twist around.

She found herself staring straight up into those dark knowing eyes. He was close. Far closer than anyone had ever been. His messy dark hair fell over his forehead. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked dangerous and sleepy and unfairly handsome all at once. For one stupid heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.

Snow moved to shove his shoulder away fast. Her elbow slipped on the smooth sheet instead. She pitched forward straight right into his mouth. Their lips met hard, sudden and completely by accident.

Time seemed to stop.

Silas froze beneath her.

Snow froze right there, half draped over him, heart pounding wild and loud. His lips were warm, firm and far softer than she ever expected from a man like him.

The contact burned through her, sharp and strange. He did not pull away. He did not move. He just lay there staring up at her with something darkening deep in his gaze.

Then reality crashed back hard.

Snow jerked back like she had touched fire. She scrambled away until she hit the far edge of the mattress. Her face burning bright red all the way up to her ears.

“That w-was,” she stammered. She was flustered, angry and confused all tangled together. “That was an accident.”

Silas pushed himself up slow, leaning back against stacked pillows. A slow wicked smirk spread across his face that reached all the way to his eyes. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Accident my ass,” he drawled sarcasm rich and thick as cream. “You just could not wait could you? Fine quality control checking if I am soft enough for you yet?”

“I fell,” she snapped, grabbing the nearest pillow and hurling it right at his stupid arrogant face. “I slipped. Do not flatter yourself.”

Silas caught it one handed with a dry chuckle and tossed it onto the mattress. “Sure you did. Keep telling yourself that, luv. I will believe you eventually. Maybe.”

“I hate you,” she spat, scrambling off the bed on wobbly legs. “I absolutely hate every single thing about you.”

“Hatred is passion with a temper tantrum,” he called out after her, unbothered and smug. “We are making progress then.”

She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her, hard enough to rattle the frame. Snow braced her back against the wood, chest heaving furious breaths. She scrubbed at her mouth roughly like she needed to wipe away every trace of that brief burning touch.

It had meant nothing. Nothing at all. He was her captor. A killer. The man who had stolen her whole life out from under her feet. She should want to run, not wonder what it would feel like if he did it on purpose.

Snow emerged after long minutes, later dressed and composed on the outside at least. Silas stood near the window, fully changed with dark clothes fitting him like second skin.

He turned when she stepped out, still looking far too amused for her liking.

“Finally done scrubbing your skin off?” he asked dryly.

“Leave me alone,” she bit back as she marched straight for the door. “I am going downstairs.”

“Watch your step then,” he called after her. “And do not go wandering too far. Remember, there are still people who would very much like to finish what they started.”

She ignored him completely and stormed out into the hallway.

Anger burned hotter and steadier than fear right now. Anger at the kiss. Anger at how he teased her about it. Anger most of all that some part of her did not mind quite as much as it should.

Snow spent hours wandering the fortress halls and gardens trying to burn off that restless fury. Lorenzo kept a quiet distant eye on her from the shadows, always there but never hovering too close.

She found high stone terraces with views that dropped away into endless green valleys and misty peaks.

Beautiful, yes. But still a cage no matter how gilded the bars.

She was heading back inside when heavy footsteps came fast from the other direction. Silas appeared looking grim and sharp edged again.

The amusement this morning was gone completely. He carried a thick plain file in one hand.

“Get inside,” he ordered short and sharp. “Now.”

“I am walking, Silas,” she snapped back stubborn as ever. “I decide when I go in.”

He crossed the distance between them faster than she could blink. His hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm, steering her straight toward his private study without hurting but without giving her choice either. “I said, now. Stop arguing for five minutes.”

Silas shoved the door open, pushed her inside and kicked it shut behind them. He tossed the file onto the heavy oak desk, hard enough to slide papers loose.

His face looked darker than any storm outside.

“What is wrong with you?” Snow demanded yanking her arm free. “You change moods faster than the weather up here.”

Silas turned on her, leaning back against the edge of the desk, arms crossed and jaw set tight. “Because while you were busy admiring the roses, more mess landed right on my doorstep.”

“More men coming to kill you?” she challenged, crossing her own arms. “What a shock.”

“Worse,” he said, deadly serious. He tapped the folder once with one finger. “I sent people digging. About you. About your family. Turns out your dear loving parents kept quite a few secrets locked away.”

Something cold twisted in her gut. “What secrets?”

“Debts, Snow,” Silas bit out each word sharp. “Huge crushing debts hidden behind fancy parties and nice houses. Your father gambled most of the family fortune away years ago. They were desperate. Desperate enough to strike a bargain with the devil himself.”

Her blood ran cold through every vein. “What bargain?”

Silas looked right at her and his eyes held nothing but grim truth. “You, Snow. They offered you to me. Well, technically they arranged for you to be exactly where I would find me hurt and alone. All planned long before that rainy night. All planned before Giulio ever walked into your life.”

The floor seemed to tilt sideways beneath her boots. “That is not true. My parents they… They love me.”

“They loved their name and their wealth more,” Silas said flat and harsh but honest. “Giulio was paid well to play the part of your perfect groom. Everything led straight to exactly where we are right now. You were sold, Snow. Long before I ever came along.”

Snow swayed back a step, shaking her head hard and unable to wrap her mind around it all. “No. No this is another one of your lies. You twist everything.”

“Open it then,” he gestured sharp toward the file. “Read the contracts. Read the transfers. Read the emails. I do not make up things this elaborate, sweetheart.”

She walked forward, hands trembling so bad she nearly dropped the stack of papers. Page after page proved him right.

Signatures. Payments. Agreements.

Her own parents’ handwriting staring her back in the face cold and clear. Every word hit harder than a blow until she could barely breathe around the lump in her throat.

“It cannot be,” she whispered, tears stinging hot behind her eyes. “My own family?”

“Everyone you trusted sold you out,” Silas said softer now. No mockery, just plain brutal fact. “Everyone but me.”

“You stole me too!” she flared up spinning around on him with tears spilling over. “You just wanted to own me! You are no better than them!”

“I wanted you the moment you patched me up,” Silas fired back, stepping forward. Voice rising rough, raw and honest for once. “I wanted you before anyone knew what I was to you. I did not buy you, Snow. I took what they threw away because they never deserved something like you.”

“That makes it better?” she shouted, wiping tears away furiously. Furious that she cried in front of him of all people. “That makes it right? You still took my choice! My freedom! My whole life!”

“I kept you alive!” he roared right back matching her volume step for step. “If they got their way, you would have been traded to worse than me! Sold piece by piece until nothing was left! Do you think I do not know how the world works?”

“You are all the same!” she choked out shaking all over, fists clenched tight at her sides. “Liars. Thieves. Users. I hate you, Silas Rinaldi. I hate you more than anyone. I hate that I am here. I hate that you saved me. And I hate that stupid accidental kiss more than anything else!”

Silas went deadly quiet all at once.

He stared at her chest rising and falling fast. Then he moved.

He closed the space between them in two long strides. One hand cupped the back of her neck firmly. The other landed heavy at her waist yanking her against every hard dangerous line of him.

He lowered his head and took her mouth with possessiveness.

This was no accident. This was not a clumsy fumbling mistake. This kiss was Silas through and through. Demanding. Hungry. Frustrated. Angry.

It tasted of him and smoke and dark things she had no name for. He took and took and took until her knees went weak and her arguments died unspoken against his lips.

He kissed her until she forgot everything but how perfectly he fit against her and how his touch burned right through skin to bone.

Then just as fast, he pulled back.

He kept his forehead pressed hard against hers, breathing ragged. His eyes blazed dark and wild, warring things she could not begin to untangle.

“That one was on purpose,” he growled rough and low with possessiveness down to his bones. “Remember the difference, Snow.”

She stood there breathless, furious and something terrifyingly close to undone. “I hate you,” she whispered brokenly half-hearted now and barely even true to her own ears.

“Keep saying it,” Silas breathed against her, mouth still close and still burning. “Eventually you might mean it. Eventually.”