Chapter 4
Preston scrambled wildly on the velvet sofa, trying to push himself upright. His crisp dress shirt was wrinkled, his perfectly styled hair now falling into his panicked eyes. He stared at the metal golf club in Giulietta's hand, his chest heaving.
"You're out of your mind," Preston wheezed, his voice trembling. "My father is right outside. If you touch me with that, he’ll have you killed. He’ll tear up the entire merger!"
"Your father is a parasite," Giulietta replied smoothly, her voice a calm, deadly purr. "And you are nothing but the weak, pathetic extension of his greed."
Before Preston could formulate a response, the heavy brass doorknob of the bridal suite rattled violently. A key slid into the lock from the outside. The deadbolt disengaged with a loud thwack, and the mahogany door swung open.
Warren Hale marched into the room. At sixty-six years old, Warren carried himself with the rigid, aggressive posture of a man who believed he owned the world. He wore a formal three-piece suit, a heavy gold signet ring on his finger, and a luxury wristwatch that peeked out from his tailored cuffs. His fair skin was flushed with irritation, assuming his son was merely taking too long to establish dominance.
"Preston, what is taking so long?" Warren barked, stepping into the bright light of the suite. "The guests are seated. The bishop is waiting."
Warren’s eyes scanned the room, instantly taking in the surreal scene. He saw his son, a thirty-nine-year-old man, cowering on the sofa. And he saw Giulietta, a vision in white silk and lace, holding the golf club with terrifying, relaxed confidence.
"What is the meaning of this?" Warren demanded, his voice booming with forced authority. He pointed an angry, trembling finger directly at Giulietta. "Have you lost your senses, girl?"
"Dad, she attacked me!" Preston whined from the sofa, scrambling to finally get to his feet. "She took the club! She’s crazy!"
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Warren’s face darkened with absolute fury. He stepped forward, attempting to use his physical presence to intimidate her.
"Put that down immediately," Warren commanded, his American accent sharp and unyielding. "You are acting like a street thug. You are marrying into my family, Giulietta. You will drop that weapon and you will apologize to my son this instant, or the Marconi family will face the consequences."
