My insides throb as Giorgio mercilessly kisses me. I thought, after this morning, I’d need time to recover before wanting sex again, but my future husband proves me wrong. So wrong.
Arousal hardens my clit and dampens my panties. The bruises on my neck, shoulders, and breasts throb with pleasurable pain.
He pulls away and tips my burger to my mouth, insisting I return to my meal.
“Do you need your computer from home to do what you do?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Not really. It’ll take a few more minutes on start up to cover my tracks, but I can use any device you hand me.”
“I have a job for you.”
Surprise flares through me.
“Actually, you have a job for you, since everything is yours anyway.”
“Wait, what? How is everything hers?” Fiero asks.
“We signed a prenup,” Giorgio says.
I lean forward and meet Fiero’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Tell him he’s insane and needs to take it all back. I don’t want it.”
“Like he’d listen to me? Too bad, boss lady. Sounds like you’re getting everything, even if you don’t want it. Two everything’s, actually. You know he won’t let the Achilleses stiff you of your birthright.”
“I don’t want that, either! Give that to Tristan. I don’t need it, and I never will.”
“I’ll worry about the Achilles family, amore mio. I’ll keep Tristan safe. I’ll secure his future. Maybe I won’t start a war as I do it, but no guarantees,” Giorgio says.
If my burger weren’t so tasty, I might throw it in his face, but before I get the chance to yell at him, he pulls me back in the seat, tucks me against his side, and tilts my chin up to meet his gaze.
“You will protect the Vivaldi and Russo families from cyberattacks. You’ll find whoever is behind this, but you will not risk your safety, and you will not go rogue. We will discuss everything before deciding what’s next. Capisci?”
I stare in amazement at the intensity shining from his dark chocolate eyes.
When I read the prenup, I thought he was crazy to trust me. I am not qualified to manage what he’s built, but this?
This I can do. I want to do this. Already, my mind creates a list of tasks and adds resources I should compile before I even begin.
“Mio Dio, you’re gorgeous. You’ve already started planning, haven’t you?” Giorgio murmurs. He skims his fingers over my jawline and pulls me tighter against him. My seatbelt digs into my hip, but I don’t care. The discomfort is worth it to be near him.
“I’m crashing the car if you start making out in the backseat,” Fiero announces.
“My car. My wife,” Giorgio snarls before kissing me.
I curl my toes in my sandals and wiggle in my seat, only to grimace when I smoosh my burger.
He pulls back and chuckles.
“Finish your food, mia topolina. We’re nowhere near done for the day.”
My heart thuds at the promise in his tone, but my stomach demands more, so I take his advice and chow down. When I decimate the burger and still have room for more, I reach for the bag, but he pulls it away and insists on feeding me fries two or three at a time.
Fiero parks the car and says, “I’ll scope the place. Be back in a second.”
Giorgio pulls a mint out of the bag and offers it to me.
“Do you have gum instead? Sugar doesn’t agree with me,” I say, mindful of all the warning signs my body has given me over the last three days.
He opens the center console and pulls out a pack of sugar free gum. I take the pack and thank him, but as an idea forms, I look between him and the gum a few times.
With embarrassment and arousal heating my face, I shove a piece in my mouth and chew a few times while I unwrap a second piece. When I pinch the end between my teeth and angle my face up to his, his chocolatey eyes turn liquid.
He leans down and kisses me so thoroughly I lose track of our surroundings, and when he pulls back, the gum I’d pre-chewed is no longer in my mouth.
I stare at his jaw as he enjoys both pieces of gum. Lust pools low in my abdomen as the tendons of his face flex.
Fiero raps on the window.
I shove a new piece of minty freshness into my mouth. Giorgio’s pointed glance at my lips robs me of my thoughts. He plans to steal this piece, too.
When he wraps his long fingers around my thigh and demands I wait for him, my bra chafes my hard nipples and my damp panties cling to my sex.
I wait in a daze as he walks around the vehicle and opens my door for me, but when I realize we stand in front of a boutique dress shop, skepticism runs down my spine.
If it were a bridal store, I’d say hell no and stomp in the opposite direction, but the window displays a mix of colorful summer and fall outfits, so I don’t balk.
Giorgio leads me inside and demands I try on at least five outfits before choosing my favorite. I walk around the store and choose exactly five dresses, because I’m sure as hell not trying on more.
My mother buys my clothes online and sends me to a tailor to ensure they fit. I don’t care about fashion and never have, except for the one time she made me wear the ugliest, frilliest dress to a wedding.
The wedding where I passed out after pulling Tristan away from Giorgio.
After the attendant hangs my choices up in the dressing room, I thank her and slip inside.
Giorgio follows and snaps the curtain closed behind him.
“What are you doing? Get out,” I half-whisper, half-hiss.
He backs me up against the mirror and leans down, but I turn my head at the last second and clamp my teeth together.
He won’t fool me. I’m not done with my gum. He can’t steal it yet. Plus, now that I’m on my own feet for the first time in what feels like millennia, I realize how sore and swollen I am from his claiming.
He pulls my hair and growls against my temple.
“I’m sore. Like, really sore,” I admit.
With a frustrated groan, he presses his forehead to mine and strokes my hair back with both hands while reluctantly pulling his hips away from mine.
“You just want to torture me, don’t you, mia topolina?”
I pull my lower lip into my mouth to hide its trembling and shrug. I want him. I really, really do.
But I don’t think I’d survive another round of sex today without serious injury.
He yanks himself away with a curse and sits on the padded bench before spreading his knees and leaning back on the wall.
In jeans and a black t-shirt, with his arm and neck tattoos on display, he’s incredibly dangerous to my health.
Maybe I don’t need to walk ever again. He’d carry me around everywhere if he broke me, right?
I turn around and reach for the first dress before I cause my own ruin. Gluttony has never been an issue for me before, but I’ve also never been alone in a dressing room with Giorgio Vivaldi after losing my virginity to him before.
Careful to avoid my reflection and his eyes, I remove the dress I took from Giorgio’s closet—which still had tags on it—and try on the first outfit.
It fits me well, but I didn’t realize it had weird tassel thingies on the built-in belt, so I scrunch my nose and reach for the zipper to take it off, but Giorgio’s masculine rumble stops me.
“Spin around first. Let me enjoy you,” he says.
I take a steadying breath and humor him with a slow turn around.
“What don’t you like about it?” he asks.
I pull the tassels away from my body and grimace. He chuckles and gestures for me to try the next one.
I catch his eyes in the mirror as I rise from taking off the no, thanks, dress. Lava swirls in my veins. My chest tightens.
I take the next dress off the hanger and put it on with an extra wiggle. He leans forward, braces his elbow on his knee, and bites the side of his thumb.
“What’s wrong with this one?” he asks.
Right. Dress.
It’s so comfortable and soft I forgot what I was doing. I look in the mirror and freeze.
“Nothing. It’s perfect. I don’t want to try on any others.”
The simple cut accentuates my barely there curves while the jewel-toned fabric makes my emerald eyes pop.
“What will you do to get out of trying on the other three dresses?”
“What?”
“We’re negotiating here, amore mio. You’re talking about denying me three more strip teases. What will you do instead?”
My heart pounds against my sternum. He’s serious. Very serious.
He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. His jeans strain around his erection. I glance at the curtain.
“No one will rush in to save you, and no one will investigate what they hear, mia topolina. Everyone in the store knows what’s happening in here. Choose, before I take what I want.”
I move before I lose my nerve. Even though my first sexual encounter was giving him head, it’s still frightening. He’s so big and powerful, he could take control and suffocate me without even meaning to.
I drop to my knees in front of him and unbuckle his belt before meeting his eyes. My insides melt. Heat pulses between my legs. Saliva floods my mouth.
He gathers my hair in his fist and kisses me, scrambling my brains and stealing my gum.
I unzip his jeans, reach in, and pull out his massive cock. His thighs bunch as I explore his length.
I don’t know if my efforts equate to three strip teases, but I enjoy every intense moment as I lick, suck, and stroke him until he loses control and releases in my mouth. After I swallow every drop, he pulls me into his lap and worships my mouth with his. When he pulls away, sets me on my feet, and tucks his cock back into his jeans, equal parts satisfaction and disappointment spear through me. I brought this massive, deadly man pleasure.
The only thing that could’ve made it better would be if I’d found my own release. But the heat pulsing through me is also addictive enough for me to forgive him.
It isn’t until I check my reflection that I realize I’m chewing a massive wad of gum.
He tucks me under his arm and heads to the curtain.
“Wait, I need to change back into—”
“No. You’re wearing this dress—the one you chose—for the rest of the day.”
He flings open the curtain. The attendant gives a covert yet knowing look. Embarrassment steals my argument.
After paying and taking the bag containing my old dress, he leads me back to the car.
I like the dress even more the longer I wear it. The hem teases an inch or two above my knee, giving me enough fabric to feel flirty yet not worry about revealing too much.
Giorgio settles into his seat and pushes the hem higher to grab my thigh. Torn between oversensitivity and wanting his hand to wander, I bite my bottom lip and stare blankly out the window until he tucks me against his side.
I doze without meaning to, so when the vehicle stops, I jolt awake and check the clock, afraid he drove around in circles again to give me time to sleep, but less than five minutes have passed. My head throbs and the world spins.
Maybe sex isn’t for me. I mean, I love it and want more of it with Giorgio, but what if my body sees it as stress instead of pleasure?
Sadness roars through me. A life without sex seems way too pathetic. I can understand why some people become addicted. When Giorgio kisses my knuckles, I sigh and tell myself to stop being so morose.
He opens his door and warns me not to get out on my own. I nod and study the area.
A mix of townhouses and businesses line the street, like hundreds of others in New York City, but nothing looks familiar. Parallel parked along the side of the road with cars of all makes and models, Giorgio’s vehicle blends in a little too well. I turn to look out my window at the building we’re parked beside and realize the nondescript shop could sell anything. Anything.
Apprehension jangles up my spine, but as Giorgio opens my door, my anxiety fades away.
He won’t let anything happen to me. No danger will make it past him. His eyes never stop scanning the area for threats, and his muscles remain poised for action.
I take his hand and plaster myself against his side, refusing to be a distraction when he clearly isn’t comfortable on the sidewalk.
He opens the foggy glass door and ushers me into the building.
Fiero stands in the back corner beside a tall woman dressed in all black. I stiffen until her white gloves and polite smile register.
She welcomes us, bids us closer, and gestures to the table draped in black cloth beside her. Eight jewelry display cases sit side by side.
I swallow as emotions clog my throat. Each display case holds a set of male and female wedding rings.
I never expected to have any say over what my ring looked like, even though I’d wear it the rest of my life. My mother made it clear long ago she’d be in charge of every aspect of my wedding, including this, so I don’t know how to process all the emotions welling up in me.
As we move closer, I realize two matching necklace and bracelet sets—one feminine and one masculine—sit in their own displays behind the rings. I glance at Giorgio. His diabolical smirk almost releases the floodgates, but I breathe in through my nose and shake my head.
“What is this, exactly? Why are we sneaking around for wedding rings when our parents want everyone to know we’re together?”
Giorgio pulls me flush against him, wrapping me in his arms and easing me further from my outburst.
“These aren’t normal rings. Each piece of jewelry has its own micro-GPS tracking device. They connect through both satellite and cellular systems, so no matter where you go on the globe,” he leans down to press his forehead to mine, “I’ll find you.”
My breath hitches. I hook both hands behind his nape and offer him my most innocent expression.
“Are you sure about this? You won’t be able to fake your death and run away from all your problems if I put one of these on your finger.”
“Oh, I’m sure, mia topolina. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”
I clear my throat and blink a few times.
“Thank you, Giorgio.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Try them all on. If none of them suit you, I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow. And the next day. And the next, until the only jewelry you own are things I’ve bought you.”
Touched beyond measure, I frame his face with my hands and kiss his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead before pulling away to look at the rings.
I dismiss the first three. They’re too big and gaudy, but the fourth and fifth have simpler arrangements, so I stop and study them for a moment. The sixth steals my attention. It’s elegant, but the diamond sticks out too far from the band. I don’t want to gouge chunks out of Tristan when we play fight.
The craftsmanship on each one is superb. I don’t know where they’ve hidden the micro-GPS chips; they all look like normal jewelry to me.
Emotion surges through me when I step in front of the seventh ring.
“What is this one called? I’ve never seen a diamond cut like this.”
“It’s a kite cut, also known as a delta cut. All our diamonds are natural and certified to ensure the highest quality, but this one has flawless clarity and is the largest colorless diamond to have gone through the certification process this year,” the saleswoman says.
My brain turns off as she continues praising the set. All I know is that it’s beautiful and I want to see it on my finger. Tiny diamonds sparkle in the simple vine designs framing the center diamond. The matching necklace and bracelet hold a similar delicate design.
The thicker, more masculine ring has vine designs etched along the surface and a matching kite-cut diamond embedded in the band.
Giorgio reaches over and slips the feminine engagement ring and wedding band from the display. My entire body shakes as he takes my hand and slips them on my finger. After kissing my knuckles, he tilts my wrist and shows it to me.
“I love it,” I manage through tingling lips.
He smiles, turns me around, tucks my hair over my shoulder, and puts the necklace on me. I shift toward the full-length mirror and can’t recall ever feeling so beautiful.
He wraps his arms around me from behind and closes the bracelet around my wrist. I blink back tears, annoyed when they blur my vision, and lean back into his chest, but he twirls me around and drops to one knee.
Confusion spears through me. I’m already wearing the ring, and we’re already betrothed, so he doesn’t need to propose.
He pulls a large jewelry box from behind his back—which was not there when we got out of the car—and holds it up toward me.
“What are you—?”
“Hush, mia topolina. It’s my turn to ask the questions.”
I stand frozen in shock as Giorgio Vivaldi, the most terrifying, ruthless, and honorable mafia don in NYC, opens the case and proposes.
“Aurora Achilles, will you marry me?”
I can’t breathe. Tears escape my lashes and emotions clog my throat.
Nestled inside the large jewelry box is a complete set of GPS jewelry and accessories—watch, necklace, ring, shoelace tags, and sunglasses—cool enough to make any eight-year-old boy envious.
My heart threatens to burst. By offering me this, he’s including Tristan in our future. I don’t have to worry about losing my brother anymore.
“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Giorgio,” I sob.
Fiero lifts the jewelry case from the table and brings it to me, even though Giorgio’s ring is the only thing left in it. I pull it out with shaking fingers and turn to Giorgio.
He towers over me.
“How about right now?” he asks.
“What?” I half-sob, half-laugh.
He’s not making sense.
The front door opens and Mrs. Tamsin walks in.
Giorgio’s lawyer. Marry him right now?
After a moment of pure, instinctual panic, logic and love cut through the mayhem and dry my tears.
“Yes. Right now. Where do I sign?”
Giorgio’s arms surround me. His tongue invades my mouth. I close my fist around his ring and kiss him with all the joy in my heart. When he lifts his head, the wonder in his gaze matches the awe pulsing through me. I grab his massive, tatted hand and slip the ring on his finger before peppering his knuckles with kisses and wrapping my arms back around him.
I’m not alone anymore.
I love Giorgio Vivaldi and he loves me.
He’ll protect my brother. I’ll protect his sisters. We’ll secure a safe, happy future for everyone we love.
Together.
