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But what a fucking night it would be.
Rossi clears his throat again, and I realize that I’ve been lost in my thoughts for too long. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “It was a long night.”
Franco cackles at that, but Rossi ignores him studiously, a faint expression of annoyance passing over his face. “I simply asked if you wish anyone besides myself and Franco to come up the morning after your wedding to witness the bridal bed. Seeing as how Sofia has no parents to vouch for her—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say smoothly. I knew this issue would come up, after Sofia’s insistence on a chaste marriage, but I’m prepared.
“Tradition insists—”
“I’m well aware of tradition.”
“Then you know that we need proof of consummation. Of Sofia’s—”
“Sofia isn’t a virgin.” I speak the lie with absolute assurance, even knowing what it could cost me if Don Rossi ever discovered that I lied to him. The subject of the lie wouldn’t even matter that much—only the act of it.
Even as I say it, I know I must have truly lost my mind.
Why am I willing to put so much on the line for this girl? She should mean nothing to me. Our impending marriage is born of nothing but a father’s desperate plea for his daughter, and my father’s weakness in the face of friendship.Ididn’t make the promise. I was never consulted about any of this. And yet not only have I agreed to wed the girl, but I’ve just lied to the most powerful man in not only the North American continent, but half of Europe as well. A man who trades in life and death like they’re penny stocks, who scruples at almost nothing in his own quest to maintain the dynasty that he’s built. If his only child had been born a son, I’d never be elevated past underboss. Worse, I might have been demoted in favor of that fictional heir’s own choice for his right hand. Sent off to be a capo in Philadelphia, or something equally cringeworthy.
Instead, Rossi chose me as his heir, and I’ve just told him a bare-faced lie.
And why? I could have insisted that Sofia go to bed with me on our wedding night. I can tell myself that I’d conceded because of my fear that she’d refuse the marriage and wind up dead, but I don’t for a second truly believe that Sofia wouldn’t have traded her virginity for her life.
The truth that I don’t want to admit to myself is that I gave in because from the moment I caught her trying to run out of the apartment, I knew I didn’t want to take her unwillingly. I didn’t want to fuck her while she laid there cold and compliant, doing her duty the one time.
No, if I ever take Sofia Ferretti to bed, I want the hellcat that I had pinned up against my front door. I want the woman who declared passionately to me that I’ll never see her naked, dripping wet underneath me while she begs for my cock. I want her aching for it, desperate, ready to take me in her body in any way that I’ll give it to her. I want her pleading for me to let her come.
I want to wring every ounce of pleasure that I can out of her perfect body, until she’s addicted to what I can do to her. And then I want to get my revenge for the way she’s made me feel these past twenty-four hours—and no doubt will continue to make me feel until I can get her the hell out of my penthouse—and never touch her again.
No matter how much she begs me to.
Just the thought of it has me rock-hard all over again.
“It certainly is a struggle to keep you present today, Luca,” Rossi says dryly. “Is the thought of your bride’s lack of innocence that distracting?”
I sit up straighter, willing my stubborn erection away. Luckily I’m sitting down, and it’s not overly obvious, but still—
“It’s not important to me,” I say flatly.Another lie.
Rossi looks unconvinced. “And she told you this? You trust her?”
I snort. “Of course not.”At least that’s the truth.“I had Dr. Carella come and examine her after I took her out of the hotel room. The doctor confirmed to me that there was no sign that she was untouched.”
Another lie. I’ll have to make certain that Dr. Carella is thoroughly aware of what her answer should be, if Don Rossi ever thinks to check with her regarding the state of Sofia’s virginity when I brought her back to my apartment.
Rossi looks thoughtful. “Was it the Russians?”
I can see the wheels turning in his head, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. I owe Rossi a great deal—my position, my wealth, my power—but for the first time, I’m truly sickened by him. He’s not concerned in the slightest for Sofia, or what might have happened to her. But if any Bratva manhadviolated Giovanni’s daughter, that would be cause to wipe the stain of them from the face of the continent.
Rossi is trying to avoid a war, on the face of it. But deep down, I know he would welcome the excuse to cut a bloody swath through them all.
“No.” My tone is curt and firm. “She wasn’t harmed physically, beyond some superficial bruising to her face and wrists. There were some lingering effects from the drugs, but she wasn’t—assaulted.”
Rossi looks mildly disappointed, and I have the sudden, violent urge to lunge forward and punch the expression off of his face.
The thought startles me. I’ve often been a violent man, but never an impulsive one. It’s part of what has made me such an excellent asset to the Rossi family. I’ll do what needs to be done, but always with a cool head and no emotion behind it. The fact that my gut is churning with disgust at the knowledge that Rossi would gladly exploit Sofia’s potential abuse is just further proof that I need to put some distance between myself and her. I’ve always known that he was willing to order her killed if need be—so why does this surprise me?
“A shame,” Franco says cheerfully. “It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to be the first one in, eh?”
