22. Chapter Twenty-Two

I have this terrible urge to chase after her when she runs out of my office, but I keep my feet firmly in place. I'm not chasing after her like a dog. Regardless of how she feels on the matter, she is here, she will be my wife, and she'll accept it eventually. Or she can spend her life being miserable. I don't care either way. I'm still getting what I need of it. Forcing her will be just as fun as her giving herself to me. She's the one who will choose how this goes.

Do I understand why she's pissed? Of course. Do I care enough to give in? Absolutely not.

She is payment for a debt. She is a pawn in this game. Especially now, it's needed more than ever. Family comes first, and only those with the strongest ties will make it to the end. There is a war coming. It's unavoidable, but the Bramantes will come out on top. If my brothers and I don't start our own families, our legacy dies with us. The empire my father built disappears. His mind may be gone, but I refuse to let everything he built go with it.

I'm stupid to have not done this sooner. All three of us are. Family should have been top priority, like he told us all those years ago. I still remember that Sunday dinner like it was yesterday. We should have listened then, but like the stubborn boys we are, we knew better. Of course we knew better. This is a new generation. Things are different. But they aren't different. Not in this life. It's always the same politics. Someone will always be there to stab you in the back, to take your food right out of your mouth the second they get the chance.

My brothers and I should have known things would change the second we found out about our father's diagnosis, and maybe we did. Maybe we've all been living in denial. But it changes now. It has to. Because what else is any of this for if not to build it bigger and better for our children?

But aside from the dream of being on top, this is more. Jordan is more.

Something natural. Primal. Something inside me, urging me on.

It's her.

I want her.

I want Jordan Delise as my wife. Period.

Regardless of what's at stake with my family, I want her at my side.

As she stood in front of me, confidence front and center as she grilled me with questions, it didn't annoy me like it would if anyone else had done it. It made me proud. Proud that she was sticking up for herself. Honestly, I could have chosen anyone to be in her position. And at any point. But that's not what I want. Having actual feelings for her makes this more difficult, considering she wants nothing to do with me. There's a part of me drawn to Jordan. A big part wants her and only her as my wife. I'm not a liar, but I'm not against bending the truth. At least for a little while. Which is why I'll make sure she thinks this is all for show and nothing more. I won't give her my weakness.

I chose Jordan Delise the moment we locked eyes on stage.

Right place, right time? Maybe for her wrong place, wrong time.

Saturday night did a lot for me. I learned a lot about Jordan that night. What I saw from her was raw. Her being who she is at the core, and not worried about putting on a front because of who was watching. She let go of everything holding her back because I made her feel safe. I took her control, and she gave it willingly. She gave herself over to me. That's the part of her I want.

For whatever reason, it's her I imagine by my side in all this, whatever that means for us. Maybe it's the potential I see in her. Maybe it's the fact I've already painted a picture of our future together because it's so easy to see. Isn't that an honest reason to marry someone?

I huff out a laugh. She isn't making any of this easy, and I bet things are only going to get worse. But it's okay. I'll handle it. I'll handle her. Once she accepts her fate, our future will be clear for her too.

I grab my phone from my desk and text Rafael, telling him to meet me in my office asap.

Five minutes later, he's knocking on my door and walking in when I give him permission.

"What do you need?" he asks in a rough voice. Like maybe he was sleeping.

"To come down your throat."

He smirks and moves around my desk, swiveling my chair to face him. I lean back and look up at him, licking my lips.

"Had you said that in the text, I'd have been here sooner." He unbuckles my belt, opens up my pants, and gets my dick out. I was hard the moment he asked what I needed. He gets to his knees and sucks me into his hot mouth without hesitating.

"Fuck," I groan out, finding the back of his head and curling my fingers in his hair.

Rafael bobs up and down on me, sucking and licking. The thing I enjoy most about him is how much he loves sucking my dick. Same as he loves licking pussy. The man loves pleasing his partners, and that is something I truly enjoy from the person I'm with. My mind floats back to the club. What's better than one submissive? Two. Three is too much. Been there, done that; probably won't do it again.

Rafael pulls me from his mouth and uses his hand, looking up at me under his thick lashes, his eyes gleaming.

"How do you expect that girl to agree to marry you if you call me in here like this?"

"She's going to marry me anyway," I say, thrusting into his hand.

"But she'll be happier if you were nicer."

"I am nice."

"Uh huh. Nice and hard." He licks the tip of my dick, causing me to hiss. "Maybe we should—"

"Our arrangement stays. I'll talk to her about it."

"Good, because I don't like feeling guilty."

I roll my eyes and force him back onto my cock.

"Just shut up and make me come," I tell him.

He sucks harder, massaging my balls, and minutes later I'm releasing down his throat.

He sits back on his knees, wiping his chin and looking at me with a raised brow.

"Don't look at me like that," I say as I tuck my dick away.

"You need to talk to her."

"I tried."

"You can't expect her to not be mad."

"Didn't say I do."

He gets up, looking down at me like he has some kind of charge over me.

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

He better not try telling me he wants out of our arrangement.

He chuckles. "I'm not breaking up with you. Don't worry."

"Well, we're not dating," I say.

He rolls his eyes and I get to my feet, grasping his chin and looking into his bright green eyes. "You know how I feel about that," I growl.

"Sorry," he says, swallowing hard.

"Sorry…"

"Sorry, sir," he amends.

I let out a long breath. "Don't let it happen again."

He nods once. I lean forward and kiss his lips. He sucks in a breath through his nose, his hand gripping my hip. I pull away before we can get caught up and I end up bending him over my desk and fucking him. I have work to do.

"What do you need to tell me?" I ask.

He clears his throat, dropping his hands and stepping back. "My mother is not doing well."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'd like to visit her. A week or two maybe."

"Perfectly acceptable," I tell him. "Have Bernice handle it."

"I don't need you to pay for it," he tells me with a frown.

"Well, I'm going to anyway. So have Bernice handle it, and I'll see you when you get back." I leave no room for argument. Rafael isn't my prisoner. He is allowed to come and go as he pleases. But that's because he wants to be here. I don't have to worry about him leaving and not coming back. He respects our agreement.

He takes another step back and nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I'll see you when I get back." He sounds unsure. Like maybe he's worried I'm going to break up with him. I'm not. Rafael stays, regardless of my marital status. I mean, after all the fun we had at the club, why would he think I'd want to give that up?

Rafael leaves my office, and I get settled at my desk to go back to work, but I can't focus. All I can think about is Jordan. Rafael, too. My father. My brothers. This fucking mess of my life. And it all circles back to Jordan.

What the hell am I going to do with her?