Pleasure hummed dully in my body. When I’d caught my breath, I sat up. I needed to clean up. The proof of Emma’s innocence stained my legs and the sheets. I could feel her eyes on me. When I met her gaze, she flushed and smiled shyly. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice still rough with lust.
Emma hadn’t been very vocal about her pain, but looking at my cock and her thighs, I couldn’t imagine she hadn’t been in pain. Maybe I should have been more careful, but a primal part had taken control, spurred on by the knowledge that I was the first to claim her.
She gave a small nod.
She was a beautiful girl, a beautiful woman, now my wife. I wished fate hadn’t shackled her to me. So much darkness lay in her past, and I carried too much darkness for it not to stain her future.
She reminded me of a deer in the headlights as she lay beside me, still gloriously naked, her skin flushed from what we’d done. She was gorgeous, and my desire had run the show the moment I’d seen her half-naked body. “Do you need anything?”
She sat up with a wince, her eyes taking in her smeared thighs. “I need to wash myself.”
“I’m going to take a shower. I can take you with me.”
Surprise crossed her face. She gave a small nod and smiled gratefully. Then her expression changed. “I can shower by myself.”
“I know. But we might as well do it together.”
I stood and picked her up. To my surprise, my body was already asking for more. But I ignored its call and carried Emma into the bathroom, then stepped into the shower with her. I tried to turn on the water but needed my hands to hold her up.
“Let me,” she said and turned the shower on. The first spray of water was ice cold, as it always took a few seconds to warm up. I had spent only a couple of nights in the place to look for possible improvements before we moved in together, but that was one thing I’d learned quickly. Emma sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers clamping around my bicep as her wide eyes met mine. I chuckled at her shock. She relaxed when the water finally turned warm and pursed her lips.
“You could have warned me,” she said with a small, coy smile.
“Who would have thought that a bit of cold water would make you scream louder than sex with me.”
Her lips fell open. I hadn’t intended to show my true personality to Emma so shortly after our wedding, but keeping up a front in private was hard work, and I was exhausted from all the fake pleasantries of the day.
I could tell that she misunderstood my comment from the shock and worry in her eyes. I smirked and bent closer. “I didn’t mean from pain, Emma. I’m not into that. Nothing is better than a scream in pleasure.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks became an even darker shade of red. I angled our bodies so the water reached her thighs and could wash away the blood there.
“You can set me down. That way, I can clean up.”
I slowly put her down but kept a steadying hand on her waist. She held my arm as she began to lather herself with my shower gel, an herby scent that helped me wake up in the morning. She hissed when she washed herself between her legs.
“What is this?” she asked with a curious look up at me.
I grimaced. “This gives you a fresh kick.”
She quickly washed off the remaining foam and watching her fingers clean her pussy sent a flood of blood straight to my cock. She noticed my gaze and flushed a bright red. I looked away and washed my face, forcing my thoughts away from Emma’s naked body.
Tomorrow, our families would have lunch together, and afterward, there’d hopefully be some time to discuss new ways to destroy the Falcone’s empire. Too much time had already been wasted on wedding planning—ours and Danilo’s to my sister. It was time to return our focus to business.
“Are you done?” I asked her with a sideways glance, trying to stay on track and not lose myself in her beauty again.
“Yes,” she said, quieter than before. I wasn’t sure what caused her sudden mood swing.
I stepped out of the shower and slung a towel around my waist before I grabbed one for Emma and wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging her in. She peered up at me, her expressive brown eyes locking on mine. This woman had so much love to give. One look at her told me that and more. She hoped what we had could turn into a loving marriage.
Emma was lovable. If I allowed it, I could see myself falling for her one day. But for that to happen, I would have to let her in. I would have to let her see the darkness of the past, the darkness I still carried with me. Could she bear the heavy guilt I carried? Most days, it was too heavy even for my shoulders. I released her shoulders, my expression closing off. “We should sleep now.”
She gave me a tight smile. “I need to get ready. Give me a moment.”
I left the bathroom. I put on pajama bottoms, then waited for Emma to emerge. I wasn’t sure if she’d need my help or if she even wanted it. Emma was used to handling things alone. The door opened, and Emma appeared, holding the doorframe to steady herself. She wore a gold silk nightgown and had her long hair braided so it fell over her shoulder. “Can you bring me my wheelchair?”
I pushed it over to her. “I could carry you again.”
“I don’t want to impose on your kindness.”
Emma was definitely colder than before. Maybe she realized that a bond built on mutual respect was better than hoping for love. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to be kind to you.”
Her face became even more closed off. I realized my choice of words had been less than clever. I rolled the wheelchair over to her. She lowered herself into her wheelchair and moved it toward the bed, then she engaged the brake and stood. She climbed into bed. I joined her. She turned to me with a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “I’m not a job. I have worked too hard for my independence to be an obligation to anyone.”
I frowned. “I never called you an obligation, and I realize my choice of words was inapt. I was referencing our wedding vows. It’s my duty as your husband to treat you well and take care of you.”
“As is my duty. This isn’t a one-way street.”
“I know. But I have a feeling you’re better at being kind and taking care of people than I am. I’m better at ruining lives.”
She pursed her lips, questions filling her eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t voice them. “We both can do our best. This is only the beginning of our marriage. We’ll have a lot of time to figure this out together.”
EMMA
I woke to the sound of gentle breathing. The memories of last night filtered through my sleepy brain, and I had to stifle a smile. When I opened my eyes, the room was still mostly dark because the curtains were drawn. I blinked and turned my head toward the sound of breathing. Samuel lay with his muscled back turned to me. The blanket pooled around his hip, allowing me to take him in. Three names were tattooed on his back. It was the position where his heart was. For a moment, I worried they were names of women he’d perhaps dated over the years, though it seemed strange to keep a list of previous lovers. Not to mention that I knew from the gossip mill that Samuel had been with more than three women. Yet he hadn’t been with any of them long enough to warrant a permanent place for their name on his skin.
When I scanned the names, relief settled in me. Enea, Domenico, and Arlo must have been friends who’d died over the years. As a Made Man, death was always a close companion. Several scars covered his back, reminding me that he too had gotten close to death before. I knew he’d been captured by the Camorra when he’d tried to save his twin.
He stirred suddenly and rolled over. I tried to pretend I had been waking up too and not staring at him. His blond hair was tousled from sleep. He looked cute and not as distant as usual. I resisted the urge to touch him even though I really wanted to.
“Morning,” I said with a hesitant smile. What was I supposed to talk about? Was Samuel a morning person? Or did he prefer silence because he was a grump?
“Do you need help?” Samuel asked, his voice still rough from sleep. He motioned to my wheelchair beside the bed.
I gave him a tight smile. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He thought I required constant support. I didn’t want to blame him for his misconception. Many people who’d never lived with a disabled person felt they needed constant help. Some people actually did, but I could get through my daily routine with minimal support. The only thing I usually needed help with were things on the upper shelves.
He sat up.
“The names on your back, are they of dead friends?”
Samuel’s face hardened, a shadow of the past flitting through his eyes. “Of friends who died because of me.”
My lips parted in surprise. I could tell it was a topic Samuel didn’t want to talk about. I nodded and stopped myself from asking more questions. Maybe I’d ask Danilo about them. He definitely knew the details about Samuel’s past, especially his rescue mission. But Danilo, too, didn’t like talking about it as it marked the year in which he’d lost his fiancée to Remo Falcone.
Maybe one day, Samuel would feel comfortable enough with me to share the full story.
“I’ll freshen up and get dressed. Will we have breakfast together?”
“Sure. I took the day off.”
I got into my wheelchair, acutely aware that Samuel watched my every move. The tension in his upper body and the keen attentiveness in his expression made it clear he was ready to leap out of bed and assist me should I require his help. It was kind of sweet but also frustrating. I didn’t want to become someone he had to care for, at least not beyond what a husband did for his wife. I smoothed out my nightgown and resolutely gripped the wheels before I moved toward the bathroom. The door was closed, and I had to angle my wheelchair to the side to push it open. Samuel climbed to his feet, obviously thinking he needed to open the door for me.
I sent him another smile before I disappeared inside the bathroom. The moment I stopped in front of the sink, Samuel appeared in the doorway. I had to stifle my laughter, though I also felt a little like screaming. Clearing my throat, I gathered my courage and said, “You don’t have to hover, you know? I’m an adult. The wheelchair doesn’t mean I can’t handle things on my own. You can treat me like you would any other woman.”
I cringed at my last words.
Samuel frowned. “You are my wife, and I want to take care of you.”
“That’s really nice, and I appreciate it, but unless I ask for help, I can do it on my own.”
Samuel nodded. Still, I wasn’t sure if it had really gotten through to him. Maybe he’d actually need to see me handle things to believe I could. Mobsters could be stubborn and overprotective. I had to admit a part of me was pleased that Samuel took our marriage serious enough to want to make good on his promise, but I also knew I’d get frustrated very quickly if he treated me like a child. I wanted to be a partner on equal footing, which was hard enough in our traditional world.
“Do you want to be alone, or can I brush my teeth?”
“You can stay.”
He came in and stopped in front of the other sink. I still wasn’t sure if he didn’t use the toothbrushing excuse to keep an eye on me. Maybe I would have been annoyed if that didn’t give me the chance to admire his breathtaking body. Yesterday, I’d been too overwhelmed by the situation to pay much attention, but now I could really savor every inch of Samuel. He was only in low-hanging silk pajama bottoms, and I kept checking out his six-pack and the sexy V.
I was still slightly sore from yesterday, but seeing Samuel, I wouldn’t have said no to a repeat performance. Our eyes met, and my cheeks heated at being caught ogling him. I couldn’t help but wonder if there would be an encore. Maybe Samuel had only done his duty last night and wouldn’t try to sleep with me again. Perhaps he’d pick a mistress to fulfill his bodily needs. Maybe he already had one. I wasn’t naive. It wasn’t uncommon for men in our world to have a mistress, especially if they were as good-looking and powerful as Samuel. I’d felt sexy last night. Samuel made me feel that way with his touch, but did that mean he would be faithful?
It would crush me if he were one of those men who cheated because they had plenty of opportunity.
I hated this train of thought and didn’t even want to consider it. I wheeled out of the bathroom and grabbed a cute blush sundress for the day, plus pointy flat pumps. I was already dressed when Samuel came out.
I took the elevator to the ground floor while Samuel headed down the stairs. The breakfast table had already been set for the two of us, and pastries, fruit, and yogurt parfaits had been set up in the center.
The moment Samuel and I had taken our places across from each other at one end of the table, a woman who I assumed was the cook came in. She was tall and curvy and in her late thirties or early forties, with kind eyes and curly brown hair in a ponytail.
“Good morning. What would you like for breakfast?” She spoke with a heavy Italian accent, so she probably hadn’t been in the States very long.
I glanced at the pastries and parfait. “We have a good selection,” I said in Italian because I missed speaking it.
Samuel, too, seemed unsure what she meant, and he too switched to Italian. “This is Azzurra. She comes highly recommended from my parents’ cook. What is for breakfast?”
I loved hearing Samuel talk in Italian. We’d mostly talked in English so far, but I decided I found his voice even sexier in Italian.
“I can prepare whatever you like. If you prefer American style, I can make egg dishes, waffles, pancakes.”
I grabbed a maritozzo, a traditional Italian sweet bun filled with cream. “I personally prefer a cornetto, brioche, or maritozzo for breakfast, and of course a cappuccino.”
Azzurra gave an approving nod. I hesitated. I didn’t want to be nosy, but I was curious. “Where are you from? I’m unfamiliar with your accent.”
“I was born in a very small village in the Maremma region.”
“Why did you come here?”
“My son wanted to move here to join the Outfit. I’m a widow and only have him, so I came along. It’s been two years.”
Samuel nodded. “He’s hardworking and brave.”
Azzurra gave a proud smile. “I’ll leave you alone now. If you need anything, ring the bell.”
She turned and moved out, giving us privacy. I knew she meant well. After all, this was the morning after our wedding night, but speaking with her was so much easier than talking to Samuel.
Samuel picked up a cornetto, bit into it, then regarded me curiously. “Some people don’t care about the people who work for them.”
My lips pinched. “I want to know who’s helping out in our house. These are people with stories, and I want to get to know them.”
“I agree,” he said, then took a sip from his cappuccino. His phone lay beside him. Messages and emails kept popping up, but he ignored them, just like the newspaper that rested beside it.
“If you have important business to conduct, I don’t mind, you know?” I motioned to his phone. “Danilo always checked emails at the dining table.” Eventually, I too had chatted with Giorgia or other friends during our meals.
Samuel gave a terse shake of his head. “It’s rude. At home, we tried to focus on the people at the table with us. I work all day. During meals, I’m off.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” I liked the idea of being one hundred percent present during a meal, focusing on eye contact and conversation, even if it would be awkward initially because Samuel and I were near strangers. “But how do you not miss anything urgent?”
Samuel smirked. “Is that how Danilo justified being on the phone all the damn time?”
I furrowed my brows. “Yes.” I took a deep breath because what I had to say next might make Samuel angry, and maybe I shouldn’t do that as a newlywed wife, but I didn’t want to have to swallow down when I felt uncomfortable. “I know you don’t like my brother, and he doesn’t like you, but could you at least try not to bash him constantly? If not for me, then at least for Sofia. We’re family now.”
Samuel sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re right. He’s your brother, and differences aside, he always took good care of you. Except for agreeing to this marriage.”
I blinked. “Excuse me? Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not a good deal, and you’ll realize it one day.”
“You could just tell me now.”
He chuckled without any mirth. “I could, but I won’t. Because I don’t want to ruin this marriage before it’s really started.”
“I’d like this marriage to work out. Don’t you?”
“I do,” he said quietly, but I could hear the doubt in his voice.
