Nervous energy jangles through me, and if it weren’t for the belt around my wrists, I’d unbuckle, open the door, and launch myself out of the car despite the asphalt speeding by.
Ermanno reaches over the center console and wraps his thick fingers around my thigh. My pulse leaps in my throat. I swallow and keep my gaze trained out the window. The pedestrians and shops all blur together.
I don’t know how I feel about his declaration. Part of me wants him by my side for the rest of my life, but I met him less than three days ago, and the repercussions of marrying him will run deep. My sister will probably never speak to me again, which means the only person in my family who hasn’t shunned me will.
I don’t know if I can survive that. I’ve spent so long yearning for her love, but her callous words today may have completed the break between us.
Can I trust Ermanno? I want to. Most of me already does.
Then why haven’t I told him about my mom? I should. Right now. Before he marries me.
But fear clogs my throat.
At least if he marries me before he finds out how I killed my mother, he won’t be able to just disappear afterward. He’ll have to divorce me, and then I’ll get to see him a few times.
When did I become so pathetic? I push the thoughts aside and take a deep breath. His subtle cologne mingles with the scent of sex. I shift in my seat and grimace at the mess between my legs.
He parks the car, lifts me from my seat, and kicks his door closed before carrying me across the sidewalk into a small boutique. The woman behind the counter greets him with a familiar smile and leads him down the hall to the dressing room.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I snarl.
He quirks a brow and sends me a pointed look before ignoring me and thanking the woman.
She closes the curtain and retreats down the hall.
He tosses me onto the couch and pins me down with a hand around my throat.
“Make a run for the door, I dare you,” he growls.
Dark heat slides through my veins. Need pulses between my legs, highlighting the slippery goo trapped within my boxer briefs.
His steel-grey orbs pierce my soul before he turns his back and peruses the rack of dresses.
White dresses. Some lacy and long. Others frilly and short.
Wedding gowns.
I dart toward the curtain.
Two steps shy of the exit, a hard shoulder collides with my stomach. I squeak as the ground disappears out from under my feet and the world flips. With my hands bound behind my back, my breasts press against his muscular back and my braid dangles above my head. He stands and hoists me higher on his shoulder, forcing me to trust him as the ground grows further away. His thick forearm pins my legs to his chest, and he swats my ass with his broad hand despite his chuckled, “Good girl.”
I growl and wriggle, but joy blooms in my chest.
With me draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he continues his search through the dresses. A few seconds later, he makes a small sound in the back of his throat before tossing a dress on the couch and moving over to the rack of shoes. My head pounds and toes tingle. He takes his sweet time choosing a pair of heels. I test the belt around my wrists in protest when he drops a pair of heels onto the couch as he passes to the far side of the room.
He grabs a purse off the rolling display case and flings it onto the coffee table before snatching some hair care products and makeup from the vanity and adding them to the pile.
Mortification spears through me when he opens glass-topped drawers and peruses lacy underthings.
“You’re kidding, right? Put me down,” I snarl.
“Not a chance in hell, gattina. I caught you fair and square. You’re mine now. Forever,” he growls.
I want to believe him so badly I can’t breathe, but I pretend the tightness in my chest is from my precarious position over his shoulder.
As he drops me onto the couch and yanks my shoes and socks off my feet, I kick and flail, but I don’t mean it. The last thing I want is for him to let me go, but I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t fight.
Onlookers might view his dominance as brutal and abusive, but I relish the freedom he gives me as he peels my jeans off my legs and holds my gaze as he repeats the motion with my drenched boxer briefs.
I aim a heel jab at his throat, but he catches my ankle and threads a lacy white thong onto my foot before pinning my leg against his stomach and working it onto my other leg. He lowers my feet to the cushion and pins my ankles down with his shin before pulling a knife from his belt and slicing my shirt and bra down the center.
I call him as many filthy names as I can think of, even as heat curls through me and delight pulses through my soul. He cuts the fabric over my shoulders and pulls the ruined fabric off my front. My breasts bounce free. Hunger darkens his eyes.
He bends down and seals his mouth over my left breast. I squeal and buck as he licks and sucks with wild abandon. Milliseconds before I combust, he rises and slips a strapless push-up bra around my chest. I groan as the silky material compresses my hard nipples. He reaches inside and pinches the stiff peaks before adjusting my breasts in the cups.
My face flames with a blush even as the black hole of need swirling in my chest demands more. He growls and skims his hands over my curves.
“Fuck, gattina, you’re too gorgeous. I need you again,” he growls.
I gasp when he throws his leg over me and pins my hips down with his weight as he reaches for his belt.
“I can’t wait. Make me pay for it later. Capisci, gattina?” he snarls.
I stare in dazed awe as he frees his massive cock and pulls my panties aside with his hooked finger. Lightning streaks from my clit to my core and spreads outward as he flicks the head of his cock through my squished folds, hitting directly over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
He smirks and strokes his length before running his cockhead over me again and watching me jerk with heavy-lidded eyes.
All the air escapes my lungs as he thrust into me. He’s too big. Too powerful.
I suck down a desperate breath as he grabs my hips and settles more of his weight onto my pinned thighs. With my arms bound behind my back and trapped underneath me, I’m powerless as he works his thick cock impossibly deeper into me.
When he shifts his grip and pulls my folds apart with his thumbs to expose my clit, I squeak and shake my head.
He growls and thrusts his hips, funneling his thick cock in and out of my squished pussy and tugging my stretched clit with every inward push.
Pressure builds in my core as he angles his cock and hits several sensitive spots inside me. My breasts jiggle as he pounds into me, and by the evil glint in his eyes when he studies them, I suspect his entire focus narrows on using me so thoroughly my nipples pop free. Several hard thrusts later, he accomplishes his mission. My right nipple slips free of the lace. He digs his fingertips into my hips and pulls my folds further apart before surging so deep into me his zipper mashes against the juncture of my thighs.
I combust as he stretches my hard clit and spears his tip into sensitive organs. He throws his head back and growls as he finds his release deep inside my body, and I writhe as a second orgasm rips through me without warning when he strokes his thumb directly over my clit.
The world flashes to black before returning in a rainbow of neon and sparkles.
He pulls out, rises, and folds me in half. I hiss as my legs squish my breasts.
With possessive eyes, he watches as warm fluid leaks from my pussy and trails down my ass crack. He hums and wedges his knees under my lower back before using his softening cock to ferry his cum back into my pussy. More replete than ever before, I shiver at the delicious stretch as he teases my entrance with his flange.
He pulls out and tugs my panties into place before tucking himself back into his trousers and parting my legs around his hips. With deceptively lazy hands, he fits my breasts back into my bra, handling my intimate flesh as though he has every right, and brushes my sweaty hair back from my face.
I shudder and nuzzle his hand when he cups my face, needing more despite the satisfaction thrumming through me.
His expression softens. He leans over me, pushing me deeper into the cushions, and brushes his lips over my forehead a few times before rising and lifting me into a sitting position. His firm but caring hands lodge a rock in my throat as he cleans my face, neck, and shoulders with a baby wipe.
He unbraids my hair, pivots me to face away from him, and sprays a slightly fruity product into my locks before beginning an intricate braid around my crown. Without a mirror, I’m not sure what it looks like, but by feel alone, I love it. The tension in my scalp eases the angst in my soul. It’s like a silent vow to always be by my side, even though I’m full of flaws.
When he lifts me again and turns me to face him, I close my eyes and suck down a steadying breath before meeting his eyes.
He cups my chin and studies my face before grabbing a few things off the coffee table.
“I haven’t done this since mia mamma died, so be still, gattina,” he murmurs.
I sit in stunned silence as he applies a light layer of primer on my face. When he follows it up with an even lighter layer of foundation and a few well-placed strokes of blush over my cheeks, I blink in wonder.
He knows more about makeup than I do. I force myself to stop blinking and sit as still as possible as he adds eyeliner and eyeshadow before blending the edges with his fingertips.
After scraping the wand along the edges of the bottle, he coats my lips with a gloss and sits back to study his work.
Sitting in skimpy lingerie with my hands tied behind my back, I stare at the most handsome man in New York City and wonder what other secrets the ruthless mafia man is hiding. How many other unexpected skills can one man possibly possess?
He pushes me against the back of the couch and kneels in front of me before lifting my foot onto his thigh. With sure hands, he works my foot into the heel, buckles the strap, and repeats the motion with my other foot.
My throat scratches as I swallow. He pulls me to my feet and roams hungry eyes over me as he cups my arms and waits for me to find my balance.
With unwavering patience, he steps back, pulls the dress off the hanger, and carefully works it over my head and shoulders without destroying his hard work. When he lowers it to my waist before pulling it up and fitting it over my breasts, I belatedly realize it’s a strapless knee-length gown with a fitted bodice, a sweetheart neckline, and a flirty skirt. He reaches behind me, wrapping me in a loose hug as he tugs the fabric of the bodice together and pulls the zipper up my back. Snug but not tight, the dress fits so well I eye my captor skeptically.
He offers me a lascivious smirk but remains silent as he tucks my new cosmetics into the purse he selected. I barely keep my balance in the ridiculous heels. My bound wrists don’t help.
He transfers my wallet and a few other items to the new purse before snapping it closed and letting it hang off his finger by the strap.
My insides quiver as he turns slate-grey eyes to mine. I toddle on the ridiculous heels as he guides me by the shoulders to stand in front of the floor-length mirror beside the vanity.
“Am I carrying you over my shoulder down the aisle, or will you walk beside me with my cum dripping down the inside of your thighs?”
My brain short-circuits. I can’t lie.
“Beside you,” I whisper.
His smile melts my heart and overflows the seemingly bottomless black hole in my chest. When he wraps his arms around me from behind, I swallow my disbelief as he snaps open a large jewelry box.
A set of simple stud earrings, a delicate watch, a necklace, and a headband sit nestled in the velvet around a wedding ring. My stomach twists at the size of the diamond, but the elegant design and the smaller diamonds embedded in the band offset the staggering monstrosity.
He takes the engagement band out and sets the box on the vanity before unbinding my wrists and pulling my hands in front of me. I meet his gaze through the mirror as he slips the ring onto my finger. He lifts my hand over my shoulder and kisses my knuckles before slipping the necklace around my throat and closing the fastener. Goosebumps track over my nape. He bends down and gives my bare shoulder a quick kiss.
After closing the watch around my wrist, he weaves the headband into my braid. I blink at my reflection and wonder when I became so pretty. I’ve always thought my sister was gorgeous, but she never glowed the way my reflection does right now.
The world sparkles like the diamonds in my hair. Joy bubbles in my chest.
Ermanno steps around me and removes my earrings. I rarely think about them. My sister and I got our ears pierced together before my mother died, so anything beyond cleaning them became too much of a burden, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of taking them out and letting the holes close.
He drops the old earrings into the velvet box before leaning in close and pushing the new stud into my earlobe. My chest hitches.
He pauses with my ear still firmly in his grip.
When he leans back and quirks a brow, I instinctually rise to the challenge.
“Don’t destroy my hard work with a few tears. Capisci?”
I bite the tip of my tongue and glare at him. He fits the last earring into my other earlobe before skimming his hands down my shoulders and lifting my wrist wearing the watch.
“Each piece has a tracker in it. The watch, necklace, headband, and rings have emergency buttons.”
I shake my head. The only piece big enough for a tracking device is the diamond on the wedding ring, but it’s too perfect to have something hidden in it.
He lifts my wrist higher and points at part of the design etched into the band nearest the face of the watch, then does the same for my necklace and taps a spot on my headband.
“Now I’ll find you no matter where you run,” he says.
I clear my throat before meeting his gaze.
“And yours?” I demand.
He tucks a finger under my chin.
“I think you’re confused, gattina. I don’t need—”
“But I do. I need to know where you are, so where’re your hidden trackers?”
“That’s not how this works,” he snarls.
“Why not?” I snarl right back.
He sighs, stalks over to his discarded suit coat, pulls a second, smaller jewelry box from his pocket, and strides back to my side. I snatch it from his hand and pop it open. A masculine watch, cufflinks, and wedding band gleam in the light.
“Is there an app I need on my phone?” I ask.
He frames my face and demands my attention.
“I’ll set it up for you, but I swear you’ll never need to use it. Capisci?” he promises.
Most of me believes him, but a tiny sliver remains skeptical.
Until he leads me into a small banquet hall and reveals our guests. His father stands tall and proud beside Dante Russo and the rest of the Russo family. Even Serenity stands in a pretty, flowy dress with her massive baby belly protruding in front of her. Scraps whines and leans against Bella’s leg. Natalie smiles and offers me a bouquet.
Reality crashes down on me.
He’s actually giving me everything. His strength and protection. His love and devotion. His closest friends and family.
I’m not ready for this, but my heart leaps with joy.
He’s mine and I’m his.
Forever.
