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Looking up at him now, I can tell this means something to him too. Before, his explanation of the process seemed like a formality, but as he helps me to kneel on the pavers in front of the chair, it’s impossible to miss the fire in his eyes. He likes the thought of his ownership printed on my skin.
He moves around me, kicking away the chains attached to the anchors on the pavers. There are restraints at the end of those chains, and I know they are meant for show. It’s a disappointment to the crowd he’s chosen not to use them, and they make it known.
“Come on, Scarcello. Cuff her up. Show her how it’s done.”
There are cheers from the back, but Alessio freezes, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them as he stares back at the men.
“I invite whoever felt the need to speak so freely to come forward and say it to my face. Nothing would please me more than to remind you I am a Sovereign Son, and you are woefully out of turn.”
Stillness meets his request, and the men all seem to regard him with lowered heads. I can’t make out their eyes beneath the masks, but I suspect they have been effectively put into their places.
“Very well.” Alessio comes around me, his fingers settling on my neck possessively. “Let the coward stay silent and leave me to handle my wife how I see fit.”
His wife.
I should be bothered by what’s happening between them, but right now, those words are the only thing I can seem to focus on. I really am his wife, and he’s mine. Mine. I like the word way too much. That word comes with baggage, so many possibilities for heartache, but it also comes with hope. A hope that he will always protect me the way he’s protecting me now.
He draws the chair closer behind me, taking his seat. His legs offer me shelter, and I focus on his warmth pressing against my sides as he starts to sanitize my skin. I’m wearing the choker Abella gifted me, and Alessio is careful to select the area beneath it, so he doesn’t have to remove it.
“Relax.” He leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ll be gentle.”
I nod and dip my head forward, giving him adequate room to work. He presses the template against my skin, carefully peeling away the film before he turns on the gun. I’ve already seen the design, so I know his family crest is a shield bearing the Scarcello name. Behind the shield, dueling swords are exposed, while Laurel branches along the sides complete the finer details. It’s beautiful and simple.
The vibrations of the gun seem to echo around me as he draws closer, and the needle contacts my skin. It stings, as I expected, but not unbearably so. I’ve been through worse, and I realize at this moment that I trust Alessio. His hand is steady and efficient, and I don’t think the entire process takes more than fifteen minutes. It’s over before I expect it to be, and then his voice reverberates through the crowd.
“It is done.”
Some men come to look at his work, but the rest remain at a distance, much to my relief. He doesn’t let them get too close, and I suspect he’s glaring at the ones who try, judging by the way they move back.
He applies the salve and then bandages it before helping me up. I’m lightheaded from the process, swaying slightly as I rise to my feet. Alessio stabilizes me with his palm on the bare skin of my back.
“Alright?” he asks.
I nod, leaning into the support he offers. He stares out into the crowd, his face devoid of any emotion.
“Let’s go.”
Luca delivers us to Alessio’s apartment in Tribeca. I’ve only ever seen it from the outside, something I’ve yet to tell Alessio, so I’m not sure what to expect within. It’s a high-rise, with more guards from IVI waiting just inside. They greet Alessio with bowed heads, and I can see Abella wasn’t exaggerating when she said Sovereign Sons are like royalty.
Alessio seems slightly uncomfortable with the formality of it all, and now I understand his amusement whenever I held my ground with him. He’s used to being treated this way. Most women probably wouldn’t dare speak out of turn in his presence. If there is one thing I’ve learned during my time with him, it’s that Alessio is not a man who wants a woman that doesn’t speak her mind. In fact, I think when I don’t, it drives him nuts.
The private elevator delivers us directly to his apartment, and I follow him inside, watching as he removes his jacket and loosens his tie. This is the version of him I like best. The man the world doesn’t get to see.
