There’s no way she’s interested in being courted. She’s always wanted to go to college, not get trapped in some political marriage.

“What’s gotten into her?” Antonio sinks into his chair and rubs his temples. “She’s being even more nuts than usual.”

Butcher grunts. “Women.”

“She’s just trying to start something.” I crack my knuckles. It seems her spanking wasn’t enough. She needs more discipline. Good thing I’m here. I’ll get her back into line.

“She’s never wanted to get married. I don’t even know where to start. Suitors? I guess I could put out some feelers. There are plenty of men who’d–”

“Are you serious?” I whirl on him. I thought I was pissed before, but just the thought of Antonio entertaining her request is enough to make my blood turn volcanic.

He sighs and leans back. “She said she wants suitors.” An evil glint lights in his eyes. “So I’m going to give her what she wants. Plenty of men who want to marry into the Palermo family.”

“All of them twats.” Butcher smirks.

“Exactly.” Antonio nods. “She’ll take one look at them and realize she’s going down the wrong path. Maybe this is exactly what she needs to kick her ass into gear about applying to college. She wanted a gap year–I said fine. I’m going to say fine to this too. Let’s see how long it takes for her to realize she’s fucking up.”

“This is a bad idea.” I can barely keep my voice level. “Inviting the other families to send their young men into our home–this can cause trouble. Especially when they find out Carina didn’t choose any of them.”

Antonio shrugs. “Maybe.” His eyes focus on me. “But what if she finds a young man in the bunch she likes?” He watches me, his gaze unwavering.

I take a deep, calming breath. Even though I want to rage. Even though I want to tear through this fucking office and destroy every last scrap of furniture and plaster right down to the fucking studs.

I can feel Butcher’s eyes on me, too, like a fucking brand burning into my temple.

Antonio gives a curt nod. “Then it’s decided.” He’s taken my silence for assent–instead of for the white-hot fury it truly represents. “I’ll put the word out. Let’s plan dinner for this Saturday and let the families send whoever they want. She’ll have her pick.” He glances at my hands. “You all right?”

I glance down and realize I’ve fisted them so hard my knuckles have gone white. I don’t trust myself to speak, not when I feel a knot in my throat and fire in my gut. I can only nod.