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I allow myself a savage grin above her head, fighting for control even as my cock swells once again. There is no way she can avoid feelingthatagainst her belly.
“Desires? I will look after those, too, Bianca. And I will introduce you tonewdesires…ones your innocent little brain never dreamed of before now.”
Her head jerks back, and finally, her earlier feistiness is back, pushing the trepidation away. Her eyes communicate fire, but nothing comes out of her open mouth except a huff of breath.
Then we are no longer alone on the dance floor, crowded by others as people press streamer ends into our hands. Her fist clenches tightly as she grips a streamer, and then I whirl her again, winding us tight in the paper bindings that symbolize the truth.
Bianca Carlotti is mine now. All mine.
And no one will ever break apart the Agosti-Carlotti cartel again.
12
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
Henry David Thoreau
Bianca
I will introduceyou to new desires…ones your innocent brain never dreamed of. His taunting words play in my head, over and over, while I wait for my husband to come to my suite.
Husband? That word alone sends shards of horror down my spine.
I am married to mob boss Gregorio Agosti.
Never in a million years would I ever have dreamed of such a thing coming to pass. Will Rio want to claim his marital rights? Will I let him if he tries?
I pace before the windows in my sitting room, back and forth, watching the twinkling lights out in the vast garden and the bobbing of boats at the formerly empty river jetty. The throb of music rolls up from somewhere down below, where visitors are still partying, celebrating the wedding of Rio Agosti and his cartel-building bride.
Me.
Fuck.
How has this possibly happened? How will I get out of this?WillI ever get out of this situation…alive?
My stomach churns, and I clench my fists as I continue to stride the length of the room and back again, wondering how many guards are stationed out there in the darkness. More than the usual number, I bet. Given the stature of the guest list downstairs.
“Wait for me upstairs, little bird,” Rio whispered after our wedding dance finished, before lifting one of my hands to his lips and kissing my knuckles.
I hadn’t been able to control my shudder that denoted both distaste and desire. The push-pull of both is destroying me from the inside out.
“I will be up to tuck you into bed. When I am ready for you.”
His eyes in that moment were no longer deadpan. Instead, they glittered with promise. A promise that is tearing me apart.
I want him here, if only to get it over with. And I don’t want him here, because his presence will ignite these strange needs in my body, and I don’t want to acknowledge anything positive about being kidnapped and forced into marriage with a man like Rio Agosti.
I hate him.I hate him. But there’s no denying it now, either to him or to myself. I desire him, too.
And that desire fuels my hatred even more.
I wish he were dead.
The clock high up on the wall in a corner of the suite hits eleven, and I release a sigh. He is staying away on purpose. I’m sure of it. We were married at 2:00 p.m., and it has been hours since the guests waved me out of the reception area.
“Fuck you, asshole.” I spit the words out, as vitriolic as if he were standing in front of me. It’s easy to be defiant when you’re on your own. “I’m not waiting up any longer.”
I march to the bathroom and tear off the stupid wedding gown, uncaring of whether or not I rip it in the process. Not like anyone will ever wear the damn thing again. I scrub at my face until it is free of makeup, and then peel off the ridiculous whore-like underwear that they dressed me in earlier today. Finally, I am naked. I breathe a sigh of relief.
