The Rinaldi Bargain

Chapter Two

THE priest stood frozen.

His mouth opened and closed without a single word coming out. The entire cathedral held its breath.

Silas did not so much as blink. He simply kept his hand out steady and waiting as if this happened every Tuesday.

Snow stared up at him, chest heaving fast beneath layers of lace. Every eye burned into her skin but she looked only at the man who had turned her whole world upside down in minutes.

“Well?” Silas prompted dry. “I am not getting any younger and neither is this ceremony. Unless you plan to stand there gaping all day. I can find better things for us to do with our time.”

“You cannot be serious about this,” Snow whispered sharp enough for only him to catch. “You are nothing but a stranger. A dangerous one.”

“Stranger is a strong word,” he countered smooth as silk. “I seem to recall you patching me up all night. That makes us practically old acquaintances. Almost family even.”

“You are insane,” she told him flat. “This is kidnapping with extra steps.”

“Technically, my wife, it is marriage,” he corrected with a mocking tilt of his head. “Legally binding too if we ever to finish standing here. Much harder to run from than kidnapping.”

Before she could argue further, he shifted his gaze straight to the trembling man at the altar. “Go on father,” he ordered cool and unbending.

Silas pointed his gun at the poor priest with a threatening smirk. “Read the words. Or would you like to explain to everyone why you refused?”

The priest looked between them and saw no way out. His voice shook as he began the sacred rites.

Snow stood there numb.

She answered when she had to, barely above a whisper. Silas spoke his vows clear deep and absolute as if he meant every single one.

It made her stomach twist tight in knots she did not understand. When the rings appeared, Silas slid a heavy band of blackened gold onto her finger. It felt cold and permanent against her skin.

“Kiss the bride,” someone said faintly.

Silas leaned down slowly.

He did not devour her or crush her.

He brushed his mouth over hers, firm and brief and claiming all of her. “Mine now,” he breathed against her lips quiet enough only she heard. “No refunds. No returns. Try not to pout quite so much. It ruins that lovely face.”

He curled an arm around her waist and turned her toward the doors. The crowd parted for them as if pulled by some invisible force.

No one stepped forward. No one stopped them.

Not her parents.

Not the guests.

Not a single soul dared stand in Silas Rinaldi’s way.

A long black car waited outside, engine already running. Silas guided her inside before she could dig her heels in.

The door shut with a heavy final thud that cut her off from the life she knew. The windows were dark. The world outside vanished fast as the car pulled away.

Snow sat as far from him as the seat allowed. She gripped the edge of her dress so tight her knuckles turned white. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” Silas answered simply.

Snow swallowed her anger. “That tells me absolutely nothing.”

“It tells you everything you need to know,” he replied leaning back against the leather seat. One arm stretched along the back behind her head. “You will like it. High walls. Strong gates. Very few people are stupid enough to bother us. Exactly what a woman like you deserves.”

“It sounds exactly like a prison,” she snapped.

“Prisons keep bad people in,” he said. Tone laced with heavy sarcasm. “Mine keeps bad people out. Try to keep up, Snow.”

“What about my life?” she demanded, voice rising sharp. “My studio. My students. My parents. Do you think you can just wipe all of it away?”

Silas’ expression shifted with just a fraction. Sharp, knowing and far too calm. “Your parents already gave you away, remember? Long before I walked in.”

The words hit her hard. “What are you talking about?”

“You will figure it out soon enough,” he brushed off. “Saves me the trouble of explaining twice.”

The ride stretched long and silent after that. They left the city behind. Towns thinned out. Greens turned to rock and twisted ancient trees climbing steep slopes high above the rest of the world.

Hours later, they pulled through massive iron gates and up to a winding drive toward a fortress built into the mountainside. Stone walls rose thick and old looking as if they had stood there since the beginning of time.

It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

Silas led her inside.

Floors of cool marble. Wood polished dark and rich. Windows that looked out over nothing but drop after drop of sheer cliff falling away into mist.

A man stood waiting near the entrance, broad and watchful with steady dark eyes. He nodded once to Silas then turned that quiet gaze onto Snow.

“This is Lorenzo,” Silas introduced. “My.. uh… personal assistant. The only one here with half a brain sometimes.”

Lorenzo gave a faint polite nod that reached nowhere near his eyes. “Welcome home, Mrs. Rinaldi.”

The name hit her like a slap.

Snow stiffened. “I am Ms. Lorenzi,” she corrected.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” Silas muttered under his breath dry as dust. “He will show you to our room. Get cleaned up. Rest. Try not to break too much before dinner.”

“Am I allowed to go anywhere alone?” she challenged. “And what in the world are you thinking, Silas? OUR room?!” she screamed in annoyance and disapproval.

“Allowed is such a funny word coming from you now,” he threw back without missing a beat. “Walk anywhere inside these walls. Wander the gardens. Just do not try climbing the cliffs. I would hate to lose my investment quite so early. And yes, married couples share a room, ask your parents about it.”

Lorenzo led her up wide stairs and down long hallways lined with old paintings and heavy history.

“We’re here, Mrs. Rinaldi,” Lorenzo announced.

The room took up nearly an entire wing. It held a bedroom larger than her penthouse. A sitting room. A bath fitted out in marble and gold. Even a private balcony looking out over the endless peaks. Everything she could want except one thing.

“I can leave whenever I choose?” she asked Lorenzo as he paused by the door.

He looked at her straight, honest and grim. “Mrs. Rinaldi, the gates only open when Silas says so. The walls go all the way around.”

Just like that, her worst thought became fact. She was caged. Beautifully. Expensively.

Caged all the way.

Hours later, someone brought clothes. Gowns. Silks. Cashmere. Everything soft and expensive in colors that suited her skin. Nothing she had bought. Nothing she had chosen.

Snow didn’t touch any of those. She just walked down for dinner and ready to fight every inch of the way.

Silas waited at the end of a long table lit by candles alone.

He poured wine and looked up exactly when she stepped into the room. “As much as I’d like to see you in that wedding dress, it’ll be better if you changed into a lighter one,” he observed. “That dress weighs a fortune.”

“Thanks for the concern, Silas,” she said, staying several chairs away. “It still does not change the fact you stole me.”

“I saved you from worse,” he countered, taking a slow sip. “Eat. You look ready to fall over.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, unbothered. “Starve. I will just carry you to bed later. We can add dragging unconscious bodies to my list of skills.”

She glared at him.

Hunger warred with anger and hunger won out in the end. She picked at her plate while he watched her with that unnerving steady focus. It felt as if he studied every bite every breath and every shift of her shoulders.

“Why me?” she asked, finally unable to hold it back. “There are hundreds of women who are richer. Smarter. Better connected. Why drag a ballerina into your dark messy world?”

Silas set his glass down slow. His dark eyes pinned her where she sat. “Because you were the one who opened that door. When everyone else runs, you walk toward trouble. You did not know who I was and you helped anyway. I do not find people like that Snow. I find liars and thieves and people who want something. But I found you.”

“So I am just a prize you picked up?”

“You are the only thing that feels real in years,” he said. Quieter sarcasm slipping for barely a heartbeat before he covered it back up. “Do not let it go to your head.”

“I hate you,” she said, soft and fierce.

“Good,” he replied easily. “Hate is strong. Hate keeps you awake. Indifference is what kills things between people. I can work with hate.”

Before she could answer, footsteps echoed fast. Lorenzo appeared in the doorway, face grim. He said nothing but his look alone told Silas something had gone very wrong.

Silas stood instantly, all ease dropping away like a mask falling off. He turned back to Snow sharp and final.

“Go upstairs,” he ordered. “Lock the door.”

“Who is coming?” she asked standing too heart thudding hard.

“Trouble,” Silas answered grim and mocking all at once. “Exactly what I warned you about. Stay inside. And Snow. Do exactly as I say for once in your life.”

He walked out fast.

Lorenzo followed, leaving her alone in the dim dining hall. Silence stretched heavy and thick. She stood there frozen, listening to faint sounds rising from far below.

Engines. Voices.

Something hard and dangerous settling around the fortress. This was only the start, she realized. He claimed he had stolen her away to keep her safe but enemies did not give up so easily.

And Silas Rinaldi had more enemies than most women had friends.

Snow walked slow toward the hallway leading up. Her eyes settled on the ring on her finger. It burned cold against her skin.

He had married her.

He had taken her.

He claimed he kept her safe.

But what if he had only handed her straight into the fire?

And worse what if the fire was not outside these walls at all?