Wife (Betrothed Book 1)

  Wife

  Betrothed #1

  Penelope Sky

  Hartwick Publishing

  Wife

  Copyright © 2019 by Penelope Sky

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  Hades

  Marrakech, Morocco

  The bazaar was on fire.

  Black cobras hissed at their masters when they heard the sound of the whip, men bravely shoved blades down their throats for entertainment, and gypsies danced for coins. When your donation wasn’t generous enough, they slunk behind you and picked your pockets—taking what they deserved.

  It was one hell of a place to celebrate my twenty-first birthday.

  Damien walked beside me, a cigar resting between his lips. When a group of pretty girls passed, he gave them mere seconds of his attention before he moved on to the next sight. Now he stared at a camel being led away by its master. “What should we do now? Get a rug and take it home?”

  “Rugs are nice.” I liked Morocco because of the chaos. This city was unpredictable, from the dangerous route to the Atlas Mountains and the constant bomb checks under vehicles anytime you drove onto public property. It was a different kind of place, beautiful but unsteady.

  “I’d rather spend my money on pussy—but not take it with me.”

  The brothels here were exciting—and dirt cheap. “Later.” We’d spent the afternoon drinking, smoking, and exploring everything this city had to offer. It was a short flight away from Florence and an extreme change of scenery.

  Damien sighed in dismay at my response. Of all the things he loved in life, pussy was his favorite. Booze and cigars were in a close tie for second. But something changed his demeanor when he turned his head and examined the bright purple tent behind the vase stand. “Fortune-teller…that’s interesting.”

  “Is it?” The practice was nonsense, just a way to take your money then laugh at you on your way out.

  “I’ve never done it before. Let’s check it out.” Damien puffed one last time before he threw his cigar onto the ground and stomped on it. The ashes squished under his shoe, adding to the other filth on the ground.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What’s the harm? We’ve got nothing else to do for the next few hours.”

  “Only gypsies read fortunes. She’ll learn about us then sell our information to someone so they can rob us.”

  Damien rolled his eyes. “You think anyone could cross us and get away with it? Come on.”

  Since I didn’t have a better plan for what to do next, I followed Damien inside the mysterious tent. Once the flap closed behind us, we were surrounded by dim lighting, the various lamps around the room giving off different colors of life. The woman sitting at the table was covered in jewels. A blue eye was one of the largest pendants that hung down from her neck. Jewels were also braided into her hair, and the rest of her brown locks were tucked underneath the shawl tied around her chin.

  The woman had an array of cards in front of her, and she continued to rearrange them as if we weren’t there at all.

  Damien approached the table, welcoming himself into the room like he owned it. “You want to read my fortune?”

  She kept working the cards, her eyes down.

  Damien stared at her, becoming increasingly annoyed by her rejection.

  I noticed a table in the corner where at least a hundred candles were burning, their smells combining to form a scent filled with so much cacophony, I couldn’t even describe it. There were small vases on the ground, gold-plated with turquoise stones decorating the sides. There were several of them, all the same but, at the same time, all unique. It was the first time I’d ever seen vases in that style.

  Damien eventually lost his patience. “I guess you aren’t getting paid today.” He turned around to look at me. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Wait.” The middle-aged gypsy stopped playing with her cards.

  Damien grinned at me, both of his dimples showing, along with his boyish charm. He turned around slowly, his arrogance rising like the scent from the candles. “That changed your tune quickly.”

  She kept the same stony face, looking at Damien without blinking once. “I was studying your auras, which are quite different. They say you don’t need to speak to a man to know him. All you need to do is feel him. Now, sit.” She grabbed her cards and put them into a single deck. “What’s your name?”

  Damien sat in the old wooden chair. “Aren’t you supposed to know that?”

  “No. I’m supposed to read your future. In order to do that, I need some information from you.”

  “My aura wasn’t enough?” he asked like a smartass.

  She continued to shuffle the cards as she held his gaze. “Your aura is pungent.” She pushed a dish toward him. “Your payment.”

  “How much?” He pulled the coins out of his pocket.

  “Whatever you think is fair.”

  Damien raised an eyebrow before tossing three coins into the jar. “Never heard that before.”

  The gypsy grabbed the deck of cards and then placed them on the table, organizing them into two rows. She slowly took away cards that seemed out of place until only two were left. “Give me your palm.”

  He rested it on the table.

  She grabbed his wrist, felt around for a few seconds, and then studied the lines in his palm. “Would you like to know your future?”

  “Why else would I be here?”

  She continued to ignore his rough attitude, and her only response was to give him a cold look with her brown eyes. “The future is a scary thing. Knowing what will befall you is considered a curse more than a blessing.”

  “I’m not asking how I’m going to die. I was expecting a fortune cookie-type of thing.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Then maybe you should have eaten Chinese for lunch. This is a true reading. I’ve had many people return to me in anger because this conversation ruined their lives.”

  “Right…”

  I lingered in the corner, listening to their conversation as I observed the contents of the small tent. It was warm inside because there was no airflow, and it was a hot summer night. But everything she had as decoration was so thick and heavy. The rugs on the floor retained the heat of the room, and the fabric of the tent itself was so thick, none of the outside light could penetrate the material.

  The gypsy looked into his palm once more. “Alright. You will be a rich man. Very rich.”

  His shoulders stiffened immediately. “Good to know.”

  “You will have more money than you could ever spend in one lifetime.”

  “Even better…”

  “But you will be alone. And you will lose many people you love on the way. One woman will love you for you, not your money or your power, but you’ll lose her. And once she’s gone…she’s gone. Your life will be filled with regret, mistakes that can never be undone.”

  Damn.

  Damien kept his cool. “Well…at least I’ll be rich.” He rose from the seat and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy.”

  I didn’t care about learning my fortune, even if it was a bunch of bullshit. But I dropped into the chair anyway. My knees were planted far apart, and my hands rested in my lap because I wasn’t eager for a strange woman to touch me.

  The gypsy didn’t look at Damien when she addressed him. “Leave us.”

  “What?” Damien asked. “He heard my fortune. He doesn’t care if I hear his.”


  “Leave us,” she repeated, with more tension.

  Instead of challenging her, Damien stepped out of the tent and swore under his breath.

  When it was just the two of us, it became quiet, the tension slowly rising as our eyes remained locked. The sounds of the surrounding crowd were still audible, but it was muffled by the thick tent that insulated us.

  With just her expression, she showed far more interest in me than she had with Damien. Then she took the bowl with the money away.

  I watched her movements then raised an eyebrow. “You will not read my fortune?”

  “Yes. But I won’t take your money.”

  That was the first time I’d ever heard a gypsy say that. “I don’t know if I should be concerned or flattered.”

  “Very concerned. It’s not often someone steps inside my tent and disrupts all the energy in the room. Your presence is profound, scary. Your future terrifies me.”

  This was one hell of an act. “If you think you’re going to pick my pockets, not gonna happen.” I had eyes in the back of my fucking head. If someone tried to stick their hand down my pants, they’d get a punch to the jaw.

  She shuffled the cards then dispersed them onto the table. “I don’t want your money. It’s tainted.”

  “Tainted how?”

  “Because of the way you earned it. It’s blood money.”

  My eyes narrowed because she wasn’t wrong.

  She moved the cards around until she was only left with three. She examined each one. “Fire. Demon. Death.”

  I glanced at the cards then looked at her once more. “You picked those cards.”

  “No. They picked me.” She grabbed my wrist and started to touch my skin. She examined my palm, a concentrated expression on her face. “All your ambitions will come true. Your blood money will make you rich, but you’ll hide in plain sight. You’ll pretend to be someone else, and you’ll fool most.”

  I had no idea how she knew about my money—and that concerned me.

  “But your life will be a very sad story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  If I were smart, I would just walk away now. Whether I believed her or not, she was getting inside my head.

  When I didn’t answer, she continued. “You’ll commit unforgivable crimes. You’ll kill men when only the Lord should decide who lives and dies. You’ll grant life to those who don’t deserve it and take life from others who’ve earned it. As punishment, you’ll only love one woman your entire life…but she’ll never love you.”

  I couldn’t picture myself loving any woman, no matter how beautiful, how sexy she was between the sheets. With my riches and power, I intended to enjoy every aspect of life, enjoy every woman that would have me.

  “This woman will become your wife—but she still won’t love you.”

  I wanted to storm out and call bullshit, but I stayed in my seat, wanting to hear the rest.

  “She’ll give you two sons—but still won’t love you.”

  I couldn’t picture myself being a husband or a father, but I continued to listen.

  “You’ll be loyal to this woman, protect her with your life, and never take another woman while she’s yours—but it will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough.”

  “Why would I waste my time on a woman like that?”

  She examined the lines in my palm before she let me go. “Because that’s the curse. You’ll love this woman inexplicably. Forces outside of your control will dictate your emotions. You’ll be forced to love her even if you don’t want to. That will be your punishment.”

  “Loving someone doesn’t seem like a punishment.”

  “Love is the most painful feeling in the world. It’ll crush you, Hades. To be with the woman you love every day but know she doesn’t feel the same way… That’s torture.”

  “Then why would she marry me in the first place?”

  She shrugged. “That remains to be foreseen.” For the first time since I’d stepped inside that tent, she actually showed emotion—pity. She leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, like touching me had burned her fingertips. “But the cards don’t lie. You’re a dangerous man…and you’re only getting started.”

  “Seriously?” Damien asked as we walked down the pathway to the brothel on the other side of the bazaar. “You’re not going to tell me what she said?”

  “It was bullshit anyway.”

  “Then, all the more reason.”

  “She’s just some poor gypsy wanting to take our cash. I’m sure she tried to pickpocket us a few times.”

  “Didn’t look like it to me.” He continued to look at me as he walked by my side. “So, what? You’re just never going to tell me?”

  “If it’s bullshit anyway, what does it matter?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s not bullshit. You never know. She didn’t know my name, so she can’t be that good.”

  My feet stopped moving, and I halted in my tracks.

  Damien took a few more steps before he realized I’d fallen behind. He turned around and looked at me. “What?”

  She knew my name.

  Damien hadn’t said it all day. There was no way she’d overheard. My driver’s license didn’t even show that name.

  Damien raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay, man?”

  I moved forward again, going through the motions even though I was still shocked. “Yeah…I’m fine.”

  1

  Sofia

  It was one of those big parties, the kind where so many people are invited that you’re only going to know a handful of people there. Publicity was important to my parents. As one of the most famous hotel owners in the country, my father had an image to uphold. Success. Popularity. Money. Those were all important to him.

  But they were more important to my mother.

  It was the grand opening of our new hotel in Florence, Tuscan Rose—with three hundred rooms, a gorgeous lobby, three pools, and everything anyone would want for a summer vacation in Italy.

  I was only eighteen years old, but someday, this hotel would be mine. I would run it with the same integrity my father did, with the same attention to detail, and with the best customer service any guest could ask for.

  But for tonight, I was still too young to even think about those things. In my black party dress with my hair pulled to one side, I stepped into the ballroom and watched everyone mingle, holding cocktails as they appreciated the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the wagyu beef appetizers being passed around by the waiters.

  I stood off to the side and stared at them all. It was a fun party, but since I was the youngest person there, I felt out of place.

  My father came out of the crowd, tall, lean, and with a moustache that he’d sported as long as I could remember, and placed his hand at the small of my back. “There you are, Sofia. I wanted to introduce you to a couple people.”

  I was tired of meeting new people that I would never remember. Their faces wouldn’t register, and their names would only be in my brain for two seconds before I forgot them too. I was proud of my father and everything he accomplished, but I was also bored by the whole ordeal. “Sure.”

  He guided me to a group of older men. We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and my father proudly introduced me as his beautiful daughter. More niceties were exchanged before they moved away.

  Then the most beautiful man in the world walked right up to us. Young, muscular, and with a light shadow on his jawline just the way I liked, he approached us both confidently and shook my father’s hand. “Congratulations, Peter. This hotel will be here hundreds of years.” He held himself perfectly straight, a handsome face on a strong frame. His black suit was nearly the color of his dark hair, and his brown eyes looked like two pieces of melted chocolate. He was definitely older than me, but much younger than the rest of the guests at the party.

  When he shifted his gaze to me, my knees grew weak and I felt so damn shy. I was usually a mouthy and sassy girl, but all that
attitude disappeared when I came face-to-face with a real man.

  He was nothing like the boys I’d liked before.

  He was mature wine, aged beef.

  I shouldn’t even look at him that way. He was too old for me.

  The man shifted his gaze to me then extended his hand. “You must be Sofia. Your father has told me so much about you.”

  It took a few seconds for me to react, to reciprocate his gesture with a handshake.

  He squeezed my hand hard, and then let go.

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” I forced myself to say.

  His eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer before he turned back to my father. “Lovely party. I expect we’ll be here all night.”

  “I hope so. I paid for a lot of booze, so we’d better drink it all.” He chuckled then looked at me. “This fine young man is making a name for himself in the finance world. I suspect he’ll be a big asset to us in a few years.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You’re probably right.” He politely excused himself. “Have a good evening, Mr. Romano.”

  “You too.” When he was gone, my father turned back to me. “Having a good time, Sofia?”

  I’d been pretty bored…until he showed up. “Yeah…I think I am.”

  I tried not to make my stare obvious, but it seemed like every time I looked at that hot man, he was already looking at me.

  So he caught my stare.

  I combated the redness in my cheeks as much as possible, but no amount of foundation could keep the color at bay. My eyes drifted to a table where a pack of cigarettes lay, an unguarded lighter there as well. The fact that there were so many people in the room actually made it easy to sneak around and get away with anything, so I grabbed a cigarette, lit it, and then walked outside.

  It was late, so the balcony was deserted. The distant sound of voices carried through the windows and thudded against my eardrums. Every bit of laughter was obnoxious because it was so fake.