Forced Union: A Billionaire Forced Marriage Romance, page 1
Forced Union
TWISTED ARRANGEMENTS
BOOK TWO
CASSIA QUINN
Copyright © 2024 by Cassia Quinn
Wednesday Ink, LLC
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.
Cover Design: Covers by Aura
Interior Design: Cat Cover Design
Edited by Sinful Aloha Editing
Proofread by GP Author Services
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To those who love a
dirty-talking bad boy. xx
Content Information
Dear reader, before you turn the page, please know that this is a romance with dark themes and potentially difficult situations.
Content includes, but is not limited to kidnapping, stalking, needles, captivity, violence, death, spanking, dark themes, possessive/jealous hero, attempted sexual assault, gun violence, dubious consent, mention of possible infant death, age gap, mentions of sex trafficking and trauma, mention of underage rape, homosexuality, PTSD, torture, and more.
Please read the entire list here: http://cassiaquinn.com/twisted-arrangements/
XX
Cassia
Forced Union Playlist
You Put A Spell On Me - Austin Giorgio
Obsessed - Mariah Carey
Boyfriend - Dove Cameron
Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy
Dangerous Hands - Austin Giorgio
Middle Of The Night - Elley Duhe
Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande
Shameless - Camila Cabello
Don’t Give Up On Me - Andy Grammar
I’m Yours - Isabel LaRosa
Dandelions - Ruth B.
Infinity - Jaymes Young
Listen on Spotify
Contents
1. Arianna
2. Arianna
3. Dimitri
4. Arianna
5. Dimitri
6. Dimitri
7. Arianna
8. Arianna
9. Dimitri
10. Arianna
11. Dimitri
12. Arianna
13. Dimitri
14. Arianna
15. Dimitri
16. Arianna
17. Arianna
18. Dimitri
19. Arianna
20. Arianna
21. Dimitri
22. Arianna
23. Dimitri
24. Arianna
25. Dimitri
26. Arianna
27. Arianna
28. Dimitri
29. Dimitri
30. Arianna
31. Dimitri
32. Arianna
33. Dimitri
34. Arianna
35. Arianna
36. Dimitri
37. Arianna
38. Dimitri
39. Arianna
40. Dimitri
41. Arianna
42. Dimitri
43. Dimitri
44. Arianna
45. Dimitri
46. Dimitri
47. Arianna
48. Dimitri
49. Arianna
50. Dimitri
51. Dimitri
Epilogue - Arianna
Newsletter Signup
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Keep In Touch With Cassia Quinn
Also by Cassia Quinn
CHAPTER 1
Arianna
My phone pings with the arrival of a new text message while I’m going over the finalized plans for my sister Sophia’s wedding in Italy next week. Everything is already in place and set in motion. I just like to quadruple check every single detail. Just to be sure.
Dread crawls up my spine and settles into my gut as I catch a glimpse of my phone’s screen. A notification pops up, showing the sender as Unknown Caller. The chill races back down my spine and I shiver.
I wish I could save that number to my contacts and name it Creep. But since it’s unknown, I can’t do anything with it. I can’t even block it.
The back of my neck breaks out in a cold sweat despite the humid, warm June weather we’re having in New York City. Reaching for my phone, my thumb hovers over the screen for a couple of seconds before I swipe to open the text message.
The cold sweat turns into a full-body shiver and my mouth goes dry.
The picture that appears was taken earlier this morning when I was meeting with Mrs. De Luca to finalize my sister’s wedding plans. We were at her favorite brunch spot in Manhattan, and the photo is a closeup of me sipping from my tea cup.
My phone pings again, and I nearly drop it on my desk in surprise. It’s another message from him. At least, I assume it’s a him.
Unknown
Kisa, I love the way you look in the mornings.
I shudder, set my cell on the desk and shove it away. As if that can possibly distance me from my stalker.
With a sigh, I bury my face in my hands. I can’t believe I have a stalker. Me.
The worst part is, I have no clue who he is, or how he found me. It’s not like I’m a celebrity or anything. And if he’s stalking me because of my family’s business, then why not target my parents, or someone who’s deeper into the business?
I’m a nobody.
I want out of the mafia world I was raised in. In fact, I’m already on my way out. Mrs. De Luca has opened up a whole new world of event planning for me, and I believe I’ve found my calling. Something I’m actually good at doing. This potential career is my one-way ticket out of this place, far away, where this dangerous world and the people in it can’t touch me ever again.
I’ve made myself some promises over the past few weeks. As soon as we’re back from Italy, I’m going to find a job. I’m also only going to date nice, sophisticated men, who have no ties to the criminal underworld. Then I’ll find a suitable husband, work my dream job, and settle into a normal life.
God, how I crave a normal life. A quiet existence away from all of the violence and danger this reality holds. I don’t want my own children growing up like I did. I don’t want them to have a mafia don for a father or be subjected to arranged marriages to form alliances with our enemies.
My eyes turn skyward and I run my thumb across the pearls around my throat as if they’re rosary beads. Maybe, someday, God will answer my prayers.
But for the time being, God helps those who help themselves.
So I’m helping myself. I’m taking charge of the direction of my life. Starting now.
The south of Italy in summer is stunningly gorgeous. A blazing sun overhead beams down on shimmering blue waters as far as the eye can see, and the green and golden brown landscape is picturesque. The wedding venue is a sprawling villa, and adds yet another layer of exotic beauty to the scene.
Best of all is my sister Sophia’s happiness. She hasn’t stopped smiling since the priest pronounced her and Roman De Luca to be husband and wife. I’ll admit I had my doubts about their relationship. Rightfully so, since Roman literally kidnapped Sophia from her engagement party to another man, after forcing Papa to agree to the new arrangement. Though that all seems like ancient history now.
They’re happy together. Truly happy and in love.
Which I get an ear full of, from where I sit beside my newly wedded sister, as they discuss their honeymoon plans.
Roman whispers to Sophia, loud enough that I overhear him say, “I’m keeping you in bed for two full weeks. We’re going to turn off our phones, order room service for every meal, and I’m going to worship every inch of your body—again.”
Sophia’s cheeks redden.
“Ahh, I heard that.” I purse my lips, side-eyeing them. I should have sat across the table with my other sister and cousins. “Don’t you want to do something more productive, like tour Italy or England?”
“Obviously,” Roman levels his yellow-hazel gaze on me, “you’ve never been attracted to another person. Much less in love.”
He’s right, I’ve never been in love. As far as attraction goes… again, not really. It’s never been high on my priority list.
I push my food around the gold-rimmed plate. “Love is an emotion. You can be in love with someone without jumping into bed with them every chance you get. That’s lust, not love.”
“It’s a package deal.” Roman sips his wine.
There’s no use arguing with him, especially today. But I firmly believe that love and lust are two separate states of being. Love is with the heart, and you can love someone without being physically attracted to them. Alternatively, you can lust after someone who you don’t love—maybe even someone you hate.
One day, I want to marry for love. A kind, sophisticated, and loyal man who’s a good husband and father. That’s what I want. I don’t need passion or lust, those emotions only seem to cloud people’s minds and make them act irrationally.
Beside me, Sophia sharply inhales.
I glance over at her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just fine,” she squeaks.
I try not to look too closely at my sister and new brother-in-law because I have the feeling that he’s doing something naughty to her under the
My phone vibrates and I pull it from the hidden pocket in my dress. Distracted by my sister’s muffled moans, I mindlessly swipe to open the screen and immediately gasp. I freeze, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.
“What’s wrong?” Sophia asks, concern coating her voice.
“Nothing,” I say, feeling the blood drain from my face. This is not good. Not good at all. I shouldn’t have opened this text in front of them. “It’s nothing. Please excuse me.”
In a daze, my heart hammering against my ribcage, I flee inside the villa, as if that will somehow protect me from my stalker. Usually, I read his text messages when I’m alone and have some privacy. I can’t believe I opened his latest one in front of my entire family. What if someone saw my screen? How would I explain it to them?
My sisters, Sophia and Ginevra, catch up with me in the hallway. I guess I’m about to figure out how to explain this, because now I have no choice. I’ve never been terribly good at lying.
“What is it?” Sophia asks, drawing my attention away from my phone’s screen.
I lick my suddenly dry lips, and pocket my cell, wishing I could hide it away. “Really, it’s nothing. My stomach just doesn’t feel so well all of a sudden.” I’m not usually one to try to be deceptive, but desperate times…
Sophia places her hands on her hips and eyes me. “Liar.”
“Something's up,” Ginevra pipes in. “You’ve been checking your phone all day. That’s not like you. Oh! Is it a boy?” Her brown eyes brighten with misplaced excitement.
Have I been checking my phone all day? Maybe. Honestly, I’m always on edge these days—correction, the past several weeks. When will my stalker text me again? Will he include a photo of me? Sometimes I feel like I can track his movements by when and where he sees me. But I doubt he sends me a photo of myself every time he’s stalking me. He could be anywhere, at any time.
Fear splashes over me like icy water.
I have to remind myself that here, in Italy, I’m safe. He can’t reach me. He can’t touch me while I’m thousands of miles away from him.
“No,” I snap at Ginevra. “It’s not a boy.” At least not in the way she thinks.
Suddenly my eyes sting and my throat feels like it’s closing. I choke on a sob, and turn away from my sisters.
“Oh my god, Arianna, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?” Sophia comes in closer, hovering near me.
“I-I don’t know. Maybe.” I’m so tired of bearing this burden alone, but I also don’t want to trouble either of them with it. We’ve always been close, but I haven’t been able to find the right time or words to tell them I have a stalker. Not to mention, I don’t want them to get hurt.
“Come on, just tell us.” Gin rubs my shoulder. “Together we’ll figure it out. Whatever it is.”
I chew on my bottom lip, debating about how much to tell them. My shoulders slump as I give in to the inevitable. A half-truth won’t get us anywhere. If there is a way to find out who this man is and put an end to his harassment, then I need to come clean about everything.
“Okay. Th-these started about two weeks ago.” Pulling out my phone, I flip through several photos of myself, candid shots, taken around the city by my stalker.
“Someone’s taking pictures of you?” Ginevra asks. “Why?”
With shaking hands, I reveal the next piece of the puzzle. “They’re sent with these messages.”
Sophia takes my phone and scrolls through the text thread. I visualize what she’ll find in there, how he always compliments me in the photos, my demands for him to stop texting me, and his threat to kill anyone I tell about him. He insists this has to remain a secret between us or there will be consequences.
Which is another reason I’ve kept quiet. I don’t know if he has the ability to hurt my family, but I’m not willing to risk finding out.
Sophia glances up at me. “Kisa? What’s that?”
“I looked it up, and it means like, kitty or kitten in Russian. I think he’s Russian.” That’s as far as I’ve gotten in identifying him. It’s the only real clue he’s given me. Not that I can trust it, because he could be pretending to be Russian when he’s not, just to throw me off.
“It looks like you have a stalker. Why didn’t you tell Papa?” Sophia asks me. Gin glances back and forth between us, her golden curls bouncing, as she follows our conversation.
“You saw what he wrote. He’ll kill anyone if I tell them. I shouldn’t even be talking to you two about this, but hopefully he hasn’t followed me here.” What he doesn’t know, that I’ve confided in my sisters, can’t hurt me or them.
I rake my fingers through my hair, then immediately regret messing up the styling. “What am I going to do? I’m terrified to go back home.”
My sisters exchange a worried glance.
“Are you sure you don’t know who it is?” Sophia asks. “You haven’t met anyone recently who seems a little… off?”
“No, no one.” I’ve been too busy planning this wedding to have much time for social interactions.
Ginevra clutches our hands. “I’ve got it! What if you don’t come back with us? You could stay here with cousin Elena for a while. Maybe the creep will get bored and go away, then you can come home.”
“I don’t know…” I take a moment to think about Gin’s suggestion. I do feel safer here than in New York. At least, a little. “I guess I could stay.”
Though that puts all of my plans on hold. When I decided I want to be far away from New York and the mafia world, I wasn’t thinking Italy. I have way too much extended family in this country. Family that would be more than happy to marry me off to a real Italian don.
What a nightmare that would be.
Sophia nods. “I think it’s a good idea. We don’t have to tell Papa and Mama what’s going on, though, I think we should just in case this escalates.”
I sigh. My choices are either stay in Italy or go home. My stalker’s been asking where I am recently. So, I guess that’s really not a choice at all.
“I guess you’re right. I just wish I knew who this guy is, you know?” I tell them.
If I stay in Italy with my cousin for the rest of the summer, there’s no guarantee my stalker won’t be waiting for me when I return home. I want to figure out his identity. Only then can he be dealt with, gotten rid of, and erased from my life.
“Well, we think he’s Russian, so…” Sophia starts. Her brow creases and I know she’s trying to follow the meager clues. Though I’ve tried to do the same a hundred times and I’m no closer to an answer now than when he sent that first creepy message.
Gin nudges Sophia. “You just had an epiphany. What are you thinking?”
“Has Papa mentioned anything about the Kozlovs since we broke our agreement with them and I married Roman?” she asks us.
“I don’t think so.” Ginevra looks to me for confirmation.
The Kozlovs. Russian mafia. How can I be so blind?
Any blood that was left in my face drains away and I momentarily feel faint.
“Oh my god,” I whisper in horror, clutching the pearl necklace at my throat. “Could it be Dimitri Kozlov? He’s second in command and he was the backup groom if anything were to happen to Nikolai. Now that Nik’s dead… And I’m the backup bride if anything happened to you, Sophia. But now you’re married and I’m—” I cut myself off as the full weight of this situation sinks in.
But… why would Dimitri Kozlov anonymously stalk me? From what Papa told us, the agreement—that we broke—clearly states that if Sophia and Nikolai are unable to marry, then that responsibility falls to me and Dimitri. Except, our family hasn’t made any attempts to hold up our end of the bargain. And the Kozlovs haven’t made any demands of us.
I don’t understand what’s going on.
As far as I know, Papa has called the whole thing off. But that doesn’t mean that Dimitri Kozlov is satisfied with that outcome. In fact, he’s probably furious. Is he trying to punish me and my family by harassing me? What does he want? What does he think he’ll gain?
My phone pings with an incoming text. All three of us lean in to read it.
Unknown
