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I was expecting her to turn her face, but she didn’t. She leaned in my direction and put her hand on the nape of my neck, holding on to me firmly. I crashed my lips onto hers, in such an eager need to have her. I couldn’t care less about the crowd watching the spectacle of my tongue claiming hers.
Ravenous and brutal.
We were both lost in the wet, warm pit of lust that hit my crotch like a fucking train wreck. Francesca was just as eager. I could feel it. I could fucking taste it.
She suddenly broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against mine as a wicked smile spread across her face.
“I hope you had a good taste because that will be the last time you get to do that,” she said in a low voice, her eyes a mix of lust and viciousness.
“If you wanted me to believe that, you shouldn’t have tried so hard.”
“Just giving you a taste of what you’ll be missing out on.” She taunted, this was the Francesca I knew and craved.
“We’ll see about that.”
“I’m your wife on paper. Nothing else. That’s the agreement. My kisses are reserved for someone deserving.” Red was all I saw at the prospect of Francesca’s lips on someone else’s, the image alone pouring acid on my fragile restraint.
“If they aren’t for me, they sure as fucking hell aren’t for anyone else. Am I clear?” She didn’t answer. Instead, she kept her eyes settled on mine, a defiant brow lifted, telling me she wasn’t having it.
I pulled her into me, her body flush against mine so that my words weren’t lost in the space between us, whispering straight into her ear, “I swear to God, Francesca, right here at this altar, that if another man so much as grazes your skin, I will not only hunt him down, but I’ll deliver you every single fucking finger he used to touch you. Don’t make me explain what I’ll do to any fucker who dares to kiss you. Tu sei mia.” You are mine.
“I belong to no man,” she hissed, darting down the stairs towards the doors as our guests were on their feet, cheering and greeting the new couple as we passed through the crowd.
We’ve been married for five fucking minutes and this was my life already. This woman pushed every one of my buttons in the worst of ways.
“Francesca!” I whisper-roared, pulling her back by her arm, forcing her to stop her frantic march so we could both leave this place together. Keeping up with the fucking appearances was much harder than it seemed when you had a tempestuous viper attached to your arm.
“I am not your pet animal you can try to tame,” she spat as soon as we were settled inside the car, safely on our way to the hotel where the wedding reception would be held. “Do you know what, Matt? I’m going to tell you the truth. I liked you. I really liked you when we first met. I stupidly thought that you liked me, too. I fantasized about that kiss for days and even had to stop myself from calling you after I found out who you really were. This…” she motioned with her finger back and forth between us, “This could have been real. Instead, you decided to force me into it, swapping places with your brother, throwing me around like a fucking puppet.” Francesca jammed her index into my chest accusingly. “You could have spoken to me first. I love to be who I am and what I am, but I sure hate it when my life is planned by others just because I am a woman. And I hate you for doing exactly that. That’s all you’ll ever get from me.”
There it was, the fairytale from Hell. There goes my happy ever fucking after.
Chapter 2
Francesca
I had been expecting anger. Resentment. Maybe even disgust.
What I didn’t expect was the myriad of emotions that flooded me as soon as those doors opened and my vision was invaded by the pews of people I loved, knew, and even those I didn’t, staring back at me.
In that moment right there, I was all too conscious that the man beside me wasn't the one who should be walking me down this aisle.
I love my uncle, and knowing that unquestionably didn’t make me feel bad for the swamp of dismay that hit me as I stared at that altar. Giving me away wasn’t his duty to fulfill.
Even though I managed to control the sobs that threatened to shake me, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Those were free and rebellious. No force on this earth could deter them from their path.
The vision ahead of me didn’t help the matter, either, as damn beautiful as he was. But still, the sole culprit for my tear-stained cheeks was my father.
My missing father. I clutched the necklace he’d given me when I was a kid, searching for some kind of solace. But it didn’t come.
So I let those tears fall, taking cover under the veil that shaded my features.
I could oversee the forced marriage. I’d been expecting it since I was a kid. I knew who and what my family was since I was six years old and saw the stain of blood dragged all the way from the kitchen to the front door.
I was strong then because my hero, as villainy as he might have been, was right there beside me, holding my hand as he explained the broad strokes of what it meant to be a Made Man.
Not today.
I couldn’t draw strength from him today as I always had.
