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Swiping my dress shirt from the floor, I toss it to her. I didn’t think to get her clothes. With a knowing smirk, she pulls my shirt over her head. I watch her lick her bottom lip, and I can’t wait until I see those lips wrapped around my cock.
“Better,” I manage to say roughly. Now it seems to be her staring at my naked chest. “Like what you see?” I bring my hand to rub at my strained cock, wanting her to see what damage she’s caused me. The air is thick between us.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She rolls her eyes and laughs at me cockily like she’s the one in power.
I push her back against the bed, leaning my whole body on her. Her sassy mouth might turn me on in here, but she needs to learn she can never do this in public. It will end up getting her punished, or worse, killed. Fear clouds those beautiful irises.
“Don’t disrespect me.” I push against her, my arousal pressing to her stomach. I want her to realize what she does to me. She squirms, making me harder with each movement.
“They’ll come for me, and when they storm your castle, you’ll regret this.” She sounds so certain I feel bad for her. I refuse to lose.
I rub my nose up from her jaw to her forehead. “You’re wrong. By the time you realize it, this will be your castle too.”
Before I can think, I press my lips to hers. It’s hard and bruising, yet soft upon her pouty lips. It takes a second for her to open up to me, a moan escaping her.
I break away, leaving her wanting more. I don’t turn when I hear her gasp, already picturing her angry fumes dancing above her head. I head to the guest bedroom to grab a shower before I leave for the family meeting that’s been called.
I walk in late, only because I’m not early. Everyone is sitting down at my father’s dinner table like we would for a family dinner. My ma cooked up a storm, but her presence is no longer here.
Clapping erupts as I step farther in and the men take notice of me. My father stands, hugging me before placing a kiss on my forehead.
“I think it’s time we make your son a made man,” my uncle says, coming up to greet me and kissing me on the forehead. I wait to see if my father disputes it. He’s all about me proving myself. Unlike the Mancini family. Jonny received his made-man title because of his birthright. They may have cooked up some event to help it go smoothly, but he was undeserving. I’ve been working my balls off for years to get recognition.
“How does she feel, boy?” another of my uncles asks, licking his lips like he wants a piece. An unexpected protectiveness has me clenching my fingers into a fist before I realize a move like this will be noticed. Uncurling my hands, I don’t have time to comment, as some asshole shouts, “He’s waiting for the wedding night,” causing everyone to laugh.
“I don’t care what the hell he does after we get an heir. He can send her body back home in a body bag for all I care,” someone adds to the banter.
No one will be killing Aly but me. I survey the room, noticing several of the men watching me. This is a test.
“If anyone gets to feel her soft neck in their hands, it’s me. I’m the one who decides when she’s no longer useful.”
I’m still fuming as they talk about taking her out as if it’s no bigger deal than ordering a pizza. I almost miss the heir comment. That should be fun. Mancini will be forced to turn his back on his daughter, realizing she is one of us.
No one blinks an eye at the crude words. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit either. But it seems wrong to be talking about murdering Aly when we’re planning our wedding. No matter the circumstances. It reminds me why I have never let myself grow close to anyone. I have no room for love. It was stupid to say I would marry her. It was an impulse, and a stupid one at that. She can be found as a weakness if I show her too much favoritism.
My anger grows at my stupidity. I have been trained to not jump to conclusions, to take my time and think things through. It’s these skills that make me a damn great sniper. I’m always ten steps ahead of everyone.
Chapter 13
Aly
Mydoorburstsopenas two robust women with big smiles roll a bunch of white dresses on a clothing rack into the room.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty one,” one of them says warmly as she continues to bring the rack in.
“I’ve heard rumors of your beauty but didn’t realize they did you no justice,” the other one says, breezing by me, placing a wooden stool down along with other things she was carrying.
“Luca has always liked them pretty.”
My heart stills hearing this. It’s silly and irrational. They talk amongst themselves like I’m not here or the center of their conversation. I’m able to catch their names, Cecilia and Violetta from their chatter. They push me onto their stool, and one of them is trying to lift Luca’s shirt off me. As I bat her hands away, she responds before I can tell her where to shove it.
“You can’t wear that while trying these beautiful gowns on, darling.” Cecilia tsks, clearly disapproving of what I’m wearing to start with.
The other lady, Violetta, is holding out a dress for me. Both turn to me, waiting expectantly. Reluctantly, I concede, and I immediately miss Luca’s scent. I’m tired and don’t have the heart to argue with these ladies who are just doing their job.
“Well, don’t be shy,” they say in unison. They stand beside each other, and I realize they must be twins. There are a few slight differences, but they’re very much identical. Faking my confidence, I remove Luca’s shirt, standing in my panties. Then they’re pulling a dress over my head, while one is clipping and the other one comes to stand in front of me.
Gradually, I lift my head, seeing myself in the full-length mirror. It’s shocking how much I look like a bride. I never thought much about my wedding day, so I have nothing to be disappointed about. But, the lack of my mother’s presence pecks at my heart, making it the one thing I can be sad about. Thinking of my mother, guilt swarms me like bees in a hive. I’ve done everything she never wanted—accepted my father’s money, and now entering into his world. All of her hard work over the years accounted for nothing in the end. I’m still where she never wanted me to be.
