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I swallow and nod. “Of course.”
Another squeeze of my thigh. “You’re not right out of college. You’re old enough that it might have happened sooner or later. Are you telling me the truth?”
He’ll find out for himself soon enough. I close my eyes briefly before I open them again and nod. “I’m telling you the truth. It’s one thing that’s non-negotiable in my family. I was once sexually assaulted, but it didn’t go far.”
“And your brothers took care of that?”
I look away. I can still see Romeo’s broken hand, dripping with blood when he took his turn beating the guy who assaulted me, some dumb college student at a frat party. But it was Orlando, our group heavy and the largest one of all, who was the one who made him bleed, who castrated him and hung him from the Zakim bridge. It took me all summer to forgive them, but not for beating and murdering the man. I was grounded to the house all summer for ditching my guard and attending the party to begin with and I wasn’t too happy about that.
“Oh, yeah,” I say with forced nonchalance. “For sure they did.”
“He still breathing?”
The tightening of his mouth and grip on my thigh warn me in this he’s like my brothers as well. He wants a name, and he’ll hunt that name down.
“Of course not.”
“Good.”
I’m under no delusion he really cares about me. Someone touched what now belongs to him, and his code of ethics demands retribution on some level if the perpetrator’s still at large.
It’s the way things are in my family, too.
I tilt my head and look at him. “Areyoustill a virgin?” I ask. I know it’s a brazen question, borderline insolent. I know I risk being punished by being bold and impertinent. I can almost hear Romeo’s groan, but the truth is, I could write a literal novel on the double standards in mob life and sometimes I get a little ornery about it.
“Careful, sweetheart.” Fear pricks my consciousness when he bares his teeth in a smile without a hint of warmth. “You overstep.”
Eh, I kinda hope he’s not a virgin. Might be nice being married to a guy who knows his way in a bedroom. I wouldn’t know. And I don’t care if there were others before me. We both know this is a business transaction. The sex and orgasms are just the benefits. The free wine and dessert with a business dinner.
Love how he pulls out thesweetheartwhen he goes all wolfish and growly on me or he pulls out the condescension.
I turn away and look out the window. Perhaps I can distract myself so I don’t say something stupid again.
Nothing but bright blue waves below us. I imagine the helicopter blades coming to a sudden halt. I imagine the helicopter nosediving into the idyllic waves below.
I imagine drowning, succumbing to the relentless pull of the undertow and tide.
I imagine finally being free.
* * *
CHAPTERELEVEN
Salvatore
I didn’t want to come on this honeymoon, because the endless list of tasks and work I have to do as Don stretch out before me, as countless as the sand on the shore. But as the helicopter begins its descent to the private island where we’ll briefly honeymoon, I’m glad I made this call.
Privacy is unheard of, even with a family much smaller than hers. I’ve spent years in prison with no conjugal visits, and the few hookups I’ve had since I’ve been home have barely scratched the surface.
I want to taste her, ravage her, devour her. I want to drink so deeply I drown in her scent, in her moans when I grant her pleasure and ecstasy. I want to glut myself on everything Marialena. I pride myself on knowing how to please a woman, and fully intend on working every angle I can to ensure she obeys me.
So when the helicopter touches down, I’m already hard. I want to tear off the remnants of her bridal gown right here, slide her onto my lap, and impale her with my cock. I want to force her to her knees and pry her mouth apart and slide my shaft between her lips. I want to see her gag on my cock. I want to feel the warmth of her mouth wrapped around me. I want to come and watch her swallow.
“Are you alright?” she asks curiously. “You look… preoccupied.”
I’m mentally undressing and fucking her, so damn right I’m preoccupied.
I nod and jerk my head to the water’s edge, where a small private ferry waits to take us to the island. “Takin’ a ferry to the island.”
