His Inheritance

Union of the Snake

You took a deep, calming breath as you assessed the situation. It had been a crazy day that ended with a dinner that you'd managed. Somehow.

But your nerves were shot. You'd made pleasant conversation with people from the other mafia families, with associates of Steve's. You'd played the part of the quiet fiancée, kept the conversation always on the person you were talking to in hopes of minimizing questions you didn't want to answer.

You'd worried about whether Bucky Barnes would make an appearance.

And all the champagne you'd consumed all day didn't make a dent in the frustration you were feeling right now. Steve had just pulled you upstairs, pulled you into his bedroom, and just expected you to deal with it?

"The wedding is tomorrow," you reminded him, the strain in your voice adequately framing the turmoil of your feelings. It was worth a try.

Steve didn't budge, staring you down. "It is."

"I would like to sleep in my own room at least one more night," you managed to say. "Tonight."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," he said quietly.

Not possible?

"It's very possible," you told him, anger steadying your voice. "You move away from the door. I walk through it and go to sleep in my room."

His gaze dropped. Was he staring at your breasts? This was about sex? Panic was threatening to rise when his gaze returned to yours.

"It's not that simple," Steve explained. "There's a security threat and it's not safe for you to be in there tonight. Dyson and a couple of my men need to go through the room, to clear it. It's best for you to be here."

What?

"What security threat?" you wanted to know.

Steve's expression shifted, the change slight. That he was being evasive with you really had you questioning his intentions. And he wasn't answering you.

"Well?"

The sound of his sigh seemed loud in the tense silence as his gaze roamed over you again.

"Does this have to do with the dress?" you demanded. "Is that it?"

"Nat, right?" Steve held his ground.

You nodded. "She thought it would make a better impression. That blue dress the stylists picked out looked like something my governess would wear."

A muscle at his jaw twitched as his gaze returned to yours. "Maybe. But it was a safe choice."

"To convince everyone I just might be scarred after all?" Because it mattered. If you were going to be forced to see this marriage through, you needed to know some things. "To keep up my father's fiction?"

"There were other considerations."

That's it? Your temper flared.

"What other considerations, Steve?" Boldly, you took a step closer. "You've manhandled me into this marriage which benefits you on this big mafia chessboard. I think I'm owed something for having my life hijacked. I need to know some things. What considerations? Tell me."

Pushing off from the door, a hand tugged at his tie like it was choking him.

"How you're perceived," he said simply.

"Perceived?" What the fuck does that mean? "Explain this to me, Steve. Hadn't everyone in your world forgotten I even existed until very recently? Now, here I am. His daughter. Your bride. Not scarred. What other perception is there?"