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I slide my hand down her front and cup her feminine mound. I wonder, absently, why she’s bare. As I curl a finger to explore her pussy, Emilia opens her legs for me. I doubt it was a conscious move. Her body has taken on a mind of its own. Wetness soaks my finger as I run it along her slit. I find her clit and stroke it gently.
Panting breathlessly, Emilia clutches my arm. She doesn’t push me away. She bends forward, but I wrap my free hand around her throat and pull her back so her head rests on my shoulder.
“Do you like that,dolcezza?” I ask as I push a finger into her tight channel.
“No,” she whimpers as I press a little deeper into her welcoming body.
“Liar,” I snarl as I slowly fuck her with my finger. Leaning down, I nibble on her neck. Emilia moans and wiggles her hips. She’s desperate for more.
“Tell me what you need.” My thumb finds her clit, and I draw light circles around it until she makes a strangled sound. “Tell me.”
“You,” she cries out. “I need you.”
Grinning with satisfaction at forcing that admission from her, I pull my hand away and pat her on the ass.
“Then you’d better go get ready because you can’t have me until we’re married.”
Throwing a filthy glare back over her shoulder at me, Emilia scurries off to the bathroom. As much as I enjoyed taking her to the brink and leaving her hanging, I’m suffering for it, too. My cock responds to this woman in a way I’ve not experienced before.
If I’m going to survive this wedding, I need a stiff drink. Heading for the door, I go in search of my brothers.
CHAPTER 5
Emilia
Though I didn’t obsess over the details of my ideal wedding day when I was younger, I have to admit I had certain expectations. The first was that I would marry at St. Mary’s Chapel, which sits high on the hill overlooking San Vicente and the sea beyond. The tiny church is where all the important moments in my family’s lives have been marked. I was baptized there. My parents are buried in the cemetery nearby. I’d love to have them close on such a momentous occasion.
Instead, the ceremony is being held in the ballroom of the Volantes’ New York townhouse. Admittedly, it is a beautiful setting. The room is vast, with polished hardwood floors and gilt-edged mirrors on the walls. Wooden columns line either side of the room, marking out a distinct space that would have been used for dancing in the house’s heyday, which I’d guess was in the 1920s or ‘30s.
There are gorgeous floral arrangements placed around the room with pink and white roses. Alessandro’s mother and siblings areseated on chairs draped with white fabric at the front of the room. Even though it’s an intimate affair, they’ve tried to make it special. It’s truly amazing but for all its grandness, the venue isn’t right. I have no personal connection to this place.
The second expectation I had was that I would know my future husband for more than a day before making a binding commitment to him. Because no matter how this marriage came about, I take it seriously. If I’m going to make vows, I intend to honor them. I doubt a man like Alessandro would allow me to do otherwise.
I just wish I wasn’t being railroaded into this. Although I always suspected my grandfather would have a hand in choosing who I marry, I thought I’d at least have time to get to know the groom. Even a few days would have let me get some sense of who he is and allowed me to wrap my head around the enormity of what I’m about to do. Then again, I doubt a decade would be long enough for me to accept the idea of becoming an American mobster’s wife.
The third thing I expected at my wedding and don’t have is what brings me closest to tears—a male relative to walk me down the aisle. I always imagined my grandfather would do it, or perhaps my uncle Gianni. My uncle would have been my first choice. He’s the one who showed the most interest in me over the years, giving me encouragement when I wanted to work. It’s thanks to him I got my only glimpse of independence.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine being led toward my future husband by the boss of a notorious mob family.
“My brother’s a decent man,” Antonio tells me as we walk through the room.
Hmm, I’m not sure a decent man would have touched me the way Alessandro did earlier. His hands roamed all over me as if he had every right to explore my body. He took me to the brink of ecstasy and then pushed me away. I didn’t enjoy being played with like that.
“Abuse his trust and the consequences will be severe.” He must realize how harsh he sounded because his tone softens fractionally for the next piece of unsolicited advice. “Show him respect and he will treat you well.”
Since my face isn’t concealed behind a veil, I don’t risk rolling my eyes at that load of crap, which is just a variation on what Alessandro told me about being a good girl. Instead, I nod. Polite deference is likely to be my go-to response with this man. Although Antonio has been nothing but civil to me since I got here, there’s a darkness in him you can almost reach out and touch. The vibe he gives off is sinister, despite the chivalrous way he offered to walk me down the aisle.
As we pass his mother, who’s wearing a gorgeous midnight blue gown that brings out the color of her eyes, I offer a tremulous smile. She gave me a warm welcome when we arrived at the house and my gut tells me she’s a good woman. Perhaps it’s because she reminds me of my grandmother, who died when I was just a child. It’s not a physical likeness. My grandmother was shorter, thicker around the waist. She didn’t wear makeup or dye the gray out of her hair, as I suspect Ava does.Nonnawasn’t a glamorous woman. No, there’s no similarity in their appearance. What they share is a warmth and friendliness that doesn’t have to be forced. In a scarily testosterone-charged room, Alessandro’s mother is a reassuring presence.
I’m not sure I can say the same for Olivia Volante. Though she was effusive in her welcome, I get the feeling she’s got a temper.I saw the way she glared at her older brother. Sitting next to her mother, Olivia is a real beauty with long, dark brown hair and intense blue eyes. All the siblings share physical characteristics. It might take a while before I can tell them apart. It doesn’t help that I was too overwhelmed when Antonio made the introductions to listen properly.
Antonio brings me to the front of the room, where Alessandro awaits me alongside a portly man in his fifties who’s dressed in a light gray suit rather than the garb of a priest. The drabness of his clothing does nothing for his pallid complexion. He’s got a haunted look in his eye, like death is chasing him.
I cast a questioning glance at the man who’s about to become my husband, waiting for an introduction. Alessandro doesn’t take the hint, but it’s safe to say whoever the man is, he’s here to perform the marriage ceremony.
“We’ll take care of the legalities now.” Alessandro leans in to kiss my cheek as Antonio relinquishes his hold on me and steps to the side. “We can have a church blessing later, if you wish.”
I’m not sure I want any kind of church service. Though I attended mass every Sunday with my grandfather, I always felt like I was just going through the motions. I’m not as devout as he was. Besides, the idea of having a union like this blessed just seems wrong. It’s not as if Alessandro and I are deeply in love.
