Page 92 of Oath of Submission


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“Oh, I could do better than that,” he whispers in my ear. “How about I present my wife to the masses with a ‘freshly fucked’ look?”

I bite my lip and pretend to think about it for a minute. “Hmm. Well… Salvatore!”

I squeal when he pinches my ass.

“Later, baby. Later. And yes, Marialena. We absolutely can and will make this work. With two stubborn-as-fuck people like me and you, we can makeanythingwork.”

I listen to the steady beat of his heart and sigh. “I’m sorry about your mother,” I say softly. Even though she betrayed him, she was still his mother. “When my father died, I felt relief at first,” I admit. “It was the end of an era of tyranny, bullying and abuse. And yet… I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t help but mourn, not really him, but what could’ve been. What should’ve been. You know?”

“I do,” he says warmly. “I do know. And I guess eventually I’ll deal with that, but for now, we have people waiting to see us and we have a show to put on. Are you ready?”

“I will be, as soon as I can put my lipstick back on for like the twelfth time,” I mutter. “Hey!” I yelp when he cracks his hand across my ass. “You’ve been looking for a chance to do that, haven’t you?”

“Mhm.”

I mutter under my breath as I reapply my lipstick, but I’m at peace. My family waits for us outside this room. We’ve formed an alliance with them, and I no longer feel as if I have to choose sides. And after they’ve gone, I’ll take my place here, with Salvatore, and face our new life together.

“Very impressive, husband,” I tell him, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “You don’t look like you took a knife for your wife at all.”

“Dammit, don’t I? Maybe you should put a Band-Aid on my cheek or something.”

I turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. “How’s that?”

His low growl rumbles straight through me. “Get out there and get some chocolate cake before I lose my mind and ravish you right here, right now.”

“You say that like it would be a bad thing.”

I take his hand. We walk, side by side, out of our bedroom to where our guests, my family, and the rest of our lives wait for us.

* * *

EPILOGUE

MARIALENA

Six monthslater

I standon the cliff that overlooks the rolling waters below The Castle and breathe in the familiar salt air. The air here feels different from the air outside our residence in Tampa. It’s cooler, more pungent, and when the wind whips over the water, it bites my cheeks.

“So that’s where you used to hide.” Salvatore’s deep voice rumbles in my ear as his hands span my waist. He jerks his chin at the perfect little dip below the line of visibility, where Mario and I used to hide to smoke.

“Yup. If you stand at the Pavilion outside The Castle, you can’t see anything below the edge here,” I explain.

“Isn’t that convenient,” he says with a knowing twinkle in his eye. When I first met him, I would never have believed that a man like him was capable of having atwinklein his eye, but he so does.

“Salvatore,” I say, drawing out each syllable. I know exactly what that look means. “Nonna’s party’s in ten minutes. You know that!”

Nonna’s eightieth birthday only comes once, and this is a special one. It’s the first time all her grandchildren are married, and the first time Salvatore and I have come to visit The Castle as a married couple. After several months of business, travel, and events where he proudly showed me off as his new wife, we finally made it back up to New England.

“Like I need more than ten minutes?” he says, as his hands tighten on my waist. I know that insistent touch all too well. Before I know what he’s doing, he’s got me by the hand and we’re walking down the all-too-familiar steps that lead to my hiding spot.

“Mario could find us,” I say, but my protests are growing weaker.

“Mario and Gloria went into town with Orlando to get the pastries. You knew that.” His voice takes on a stern edge that makes my body heat deliciously. “Do I need to punish you for trying to deceive me?”

My skirt’s hiked up around my waist and he’s doing all sorts of wicked things to me. “No,” I pant. “I’m an angel, you know that.”

“You were an angel this morning,” he says, his voice warm with approval. My cheeks flush hot at the memory. “That I know. But now…”

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