AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His phone rings, and he answers it. “Yes. Is my jet ready?”
The person on the other end says something, but I can’t make it out. It’s quiet inside here, but his volume isn’t high enough to make out their response.
“Good. Emelia and I will be leaving right after the reception. I have business I need to tend to.”
I gulp. We’ll be leaving for Seattle tonight? Why does this seem so jarring? It’s not like there’s anything here that makes me want to stay. This place is hell's armpit.
“See you then.” He ends the call, and we continue to sit in silence.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and I speak.“We have to present the sheets.” I inwardly cringe, disgusted by the ancient tradition of proving the marriage has been consummated. But I’m more afraid to tell him what I’m about to.
“I’m aware. We will do that before the flight. We don’t need to wait until morning.”
I shiver. I’m not ready to make love—well, be fucked by Nico. Especially when I have to tell him I’m not a virgin. How will he react? Is he going to break off the deal? That is one thing men in the mafia expect of their wives—to be pure and virginal.
“Nico, I have to tell you something.”
“What?” he asks, not looking up from his phone, because he can’t be bothered to stop answering messages. Maybe if I just say it while he’s distracted, he won’t be too upset.
“I’m not a virgin,” I blurt out, and I immediately realize I was wrong.
This sure as hell gets his attention. His jaw clenches, and he wraps his fist so tightly around the phone I’m convinced it’s going to dissolve.
Shit.
“Who?” he asks, and I shake my head, confused by his question.
“Who what?”
“What was the name of the man who felt he had a right to my wife?” There is a sharp edge to his voice. It’s dangerous, and it even has me shivering with fear. He sounds murderous.
Most likely because he is, Emelia, I scold myself.
“No. I’m not telling you that. It’s between him and me. The one I should have married.” My remark was meant to be snide, and I know it’s one that could really set him off. Father did forewarn me and made it abundantly clear what his thoughts were on sharing. That he doesn't like it.
“Really?” He turns his head slowly, glaring holes into my soul, and it’s filling me with anxiousness. “You will tell me in time who it is, Emelia, and if I’m feeling forgiving, I might just let him walk around with only a broken knee cap. If it’s a good day, that is.” He clicks a number in his phone and demands someone “bring the kit” with them.
What in the hell is the kit?
I gulp. Watching him make threats and hearing them leave his mouth in regard to Damian makes me petrified. I shouldn’t have said the second comment, maybe just left it as “I slept with someone random and don’t remember or know their name,” but I had to go and run my mouth. Drive the point home, didn't I? Great.
“Also, I want you to do a full workup of anyone who has been in my bride’s life in the past… let’s say seven years.” He looks over at me, and my jaw drops.
“You prick. What does it matter that I had someone before this marriage? You don’t care about me, so why is it a problem?” I raise my voice, appalled by his behavior.
“I don’t know what your father told you, seeing as he may be one of the most useless men in the entire mafia familia, but I don’t need threats. I don’t need surprises showing up. And lastly, I don’t like sharing. I don’t have to give a fuck about you in order to not want people touching you.”
“You will not treat me like this. You will not treat me like I am some piece of property. I’ve done that my entire life. You’re jealous of my past, while I’m sure you have a list much longer than mine. You stay away from Damian!” I slap my hand over my mouth, and he gives me a sideways smirk, tsking at me.
“Oh, principessa, your rage is so uncontrolled. Poor man may not be able to walk tomorrow. Or breathe. We shall see.”
My blood runs cold.“I hate you, and I will make this marriage something you dread. You think the world fears you? That you have all this intimidation and power? You haven’t seen anything. I will be your match, and you will regret ever saying yes to this arrangement. You arrogant son of a bitch.”
I throw open the door as we pull up to my house for the reception. I round the back of the limo and make my way up the stairs, passing his underboss, Giulio. I don’t even say a thing to him, trying to get as far away from the man I’m now wedded to. Before I open the door, my arm is yanked back, and my front is turned and slammed into a hard wall of muscle. My husband.
His eyes bore into me, his face stoic yet filled with unmistakable rage. The veins in his neck and his forehead protrude.
“You will never talk to me like that again. Do not play games with me, Emelia. I will not tolerate it. If you want toattemptto have some type of enjoyment or freedom in your new life, you will treat me with more respect,” he grits out through his teeth. “Now, put on the act and let’s get through this goddamn reception.”
