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“We can’t tell my family yet. I don’t want my sister getting on the first flight over here to string you up by your balls.”
“Deal. I love you, Holly Valentino.”
“I love you, Theo Valentino.”
I stand up and walk over to the desk, with my new bride in my arms. I need these papers signed before she changes her mind and realizes she can do way better than a son of a bitch like me. I sign my name and then pass her the pen. “Your turn.”
Her hand shakes as she signs her name. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is literally the craziest thing I’ve ever bloody done. But it feels right. You feel right,” she says as the ink dries.
“You’re mine now. I’m never letting you go, Holly.”
“Good, because I don’t think I want you to.”
* * *
I carry Holly across the threshold, while she laughs at myarchaicgesture—or so she calls it. And I fucking love the sound. I need to hear her laughter more often. “Welcome home, Mrs. Valentino,” I say, setting her down on her feet.
“Thank you. Wait, home?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Did you think you wouldn’t be moving in with me? We’re married, Holly. Married people tend to live together.”
“Well, yeah, I get that… but I’ve just signed a lease. I can’t just get rid of my apartment. I’ve only been there a bit over a week.”
“You can, and you will,” I grunt out, frustrated that she’s still fighting me on this.
“You know, you giving me demands and expecting me to follow them is not how this marriage is going to work. I’m not the type to roll over and play dead every time you bark.” Her arms fold over her chest. And I can’t help but smile. She’s fucking hot when she gets all feisty. It’s not often that she’s comfortable enough to speak her mind like this, but I fucking love it when she does. “What the hell are you smiling about?” she asks, stomping her foot—literally stomping her fucking foot.
“I’m sorry… it’s just… you’re so fucking hot when you get riled up.”
“This isn’t funny, T. I’m serious.”
“I can see that,” I say, trying my hardest to hide my smirk. No one else would ever dare speak to me like this, but when Holly mouths off, I can’t help but love it.
“Argh, forget it. I’m keeping my apartment. I don’t care what you say.”
“You can keep your apartment, but you won’t be living there. This is your home now, Holly.” I wave my hand around the penthouse. Anyone else would be grateful to share this space, you know, instead of an apartment the size of a shoebox.
“Well, what if I don’t likeyour home?” she asks.
“Ourhome. Then we can buy another one—whatever you like.” I shrug. I don’t give a fuck how much I have to spend as long as she’s happy.
“Just like that, buy another house? This is New York, Theo. Houses don’t come cheap.”
“Dolcezza, have I—at any point—implied that I can’t afford to take care of things?” I ask, honestly a little insulted that she’d question this.
“Take care of things? We’re not living in the bloody 1950s, T. I don’t need you to take care of things for me—how many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“You may not need me to, but you will let me. I have the means to give you anything you could dream of having, Holly. Don’t deny me the pleasure of providing for our family.”
“Holy shit, you’re serious.”
“As a heart attack. Look, I get it: you’re not Italian and you’re not from this lifestyle. But there are just some things that won’t ever change. The man being the head of the household, providing for his family, that’s tradition. It’s engrained in who we are.”
“Mmm, we’ll see. I’m not quitting my job. I haven’t even started it yet.”
“Fine, but you will need security with you.”
“You’re insane if you think I’m taking your goons into a school full of innocent children.”
