I swing into the physician’s parking lot thirty minutes early and sigh when Fiero’s info pops up on the dash. With an aggravated jab at the touchscreen, I answer his call and snap out a what in greeting.
“You’re fucking joking, right? That’s what your dad called you home for yesterday? You’re getting married?”
I grunt an affirmation as I pull into a spot and throw the car in park.
“Who’s the unlucky broad?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, no shade to the future missus, but she’ll be stuck with your sorry ass for the rest of her life, so she must’ve used up all her good luck already.”
“You’re only comfortable saying that because we’re on the phone,” I snarl.
“Damn straight, stronzo, especially with the last six months still fresh in my mind,” he says with an exaggerated mock shiver into the phone.
I sigh and flip down my visor.
“So, who is it?” he asks.
“Aurora Achilles.”
As the silence stretches between us, I check my hair in the mirror.
“The girl who yelled at you and then fainted in your arms at the Moretti/Taddeo wedding? Didn’t her parents ship her overseas to never be seen or heard from again? When did she come back to New York?”
“Apparently she never left,” I snarl.
“What? How?”
“They homeschooled her.”
“Only her? As far as I know, Tristan Achilles is going to a private school.”
“And how do you know that?”
He sighs, and in my mind’s eye, I see him running his hand through his hair in exasperation.
“It’s the Achilles family. One of New York City’s founding mafia families. Tristan is Horatio’s heir. Keeping track of them is hella easy when you’re just a Vivaldi soldier nobody notices.”
I grit my teeth, frustrated at my lack of information.
“Don’t beat yourself up over not knowing. I mean, there’s a reason everyone waits to gossip until you’re out of earshot.”
“So, you’re saying I’m purposefully kept in the dark because I’m Matteo Vivaldi’s heir?”
“Yep. It’s part of who you are.”
“Fuck that. Tell me everything you know. Dig into her situation. Past and present. I need all the information you can give me.”
“You got it, boss. Want me to start now, or…”
As he sarcastically trails off, a black SUV turns into the parking lot.
“No, later. See if you can figure out why her parents might be desperate for a grandchild, too.”
“Wait, they want you to—”
I end the call and open my door as Madona Achilles emerges from the back passenger seat. Nearest to the office door, she waits on the sidewalk as the driver rushes around to open the other side. I close my door and engage the alarm before heading toward them.
My steps falter as Aurora exits the vehicle. Despite her flawless makeup and the dress hugging her curves, her vacant eyes and wooden movements can’t belong to the intelligent, sassy woman I met yesterday.
Was it only yesterday I felt her soft lips wrapped around my cock for the first time? It seems forever ago, yet each detail remains vivid in my mind.
I curse my overeager cock and ignore the restriction of my trousers as I close the distance between myself and my future bride.
She doesn’t notice when I take her hand from the driver. Doesn’t pull away when I guide her around the rear of the vehicle. Doesn’t react when I stop in front of her mother.
“Aurora, did you say good morning to Giorgio?” Madona asks.
Aurora startles and checks her surroundings with wide eyes. A blush colors her too-pale cheeks as she realizes I hold her hand.
“Mio Dio, I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well and now I’m struggling with basic functions.” She glances at her mother before squaring her shoulders and meeting my eyes. “Good morning. I’m glad you could join us, even though you must be busy.”
I don’t like it. Something is wrong. Very wrong.
I cup her chin and watch as several emotions flash across her features.
“Of course, I’m here. I’d do anything for you, Aurora,” I say, mainly because it’s true, but partially to gauge the reactions of the Achilles women.
Aurora doesn’t believe me yet, but she will soon, while a hint of disgust slips through Madona’s polite mask. I note the change and focus on Aurora.
“Still, thank you. It means a lot.”
I can’t tell if she’s telling the truth or putting on a show for her mother, so I kiss her on the forehead and tuck her against my side.
Her lack of spunk as I lead her into the office and follow the doctor to the little nook used to draw blood worries me. When I guide her to sit in the chair with a hand on her shoulder, she settles without fuss and lowers the arm rest as though she’s done so a million times. After draping her arm over the padded bar, exposing the crook of her elbow, she looks around with unhappy eyes before reaching up with her other hand and weaving her fingers into mine.
Surprise sharpens my senses. Her show of trust nearly brings me to my knees, even as my mind screams for her to run away from me as fast as possible. I’m the last person she should trust after the way I failed my sisters, but I can’t deny her the support when she so willingly reached out to me, so I give her digits a reassuring squeeze and sidle closer, offering her my bulk to lean her head on if she wants.
The nurse chatters away as she draws blood. At first, I worry her bubbly personality will annoy the shit out of me, but when Aurora slowly animates, I thank the woman for her thoughtful play-by-play as she explains what she’s doing and the distraction she provides as she makes small talk. After filling several small vials with Aurora’s blood, the nurse thanks us for our patience before disappearing down the hall.
When the same male doctor as before leads us to a room and instructs Aurora to strip for an examination before trying to usher me out into the hall, I stop him with a raised hand.
“I’ll remain in the room. You’ll find a female doctor and will not return today. I can’t promise your safety if I see your face again this visit. Capisci?”
His audible swallow satisfies the beast lurking within me. He rushes to agree with me and hurries from the room.
I don’t know how my father settled for such a pushover physician. If I had my way, I’d never see the weasel again. Ever.
Is this the same man who helped bury the trauma my older sister Camilla had to endure?
I turn to Madona, paste a smile on my face, and hope my cold lethality doesn’t shine from my eyes.
If this woman hurt Aurora, she’ll never lay eyes on her again. I don’t care if she’s her mother. No one will touch my woman but me.
“Thank you for bringing her this morning. I drove here, so she can ride with me for the rest of the day. I’ll drop her off at home before dinner,” I say.
She takes the hint and gracefully excuses herself as she backs out of the room. I half turn, feigning disinterest, and catch the warning look she sends Aurora before she starts down the hall. My hackles rise. I shut the door and twist the lock.
When I turn toward Aurora and find her expression closed off again, I grit my teeth and take an intimidating step toward her.
She fiddles with the gown folded on the table, but holds my stare.
I’ll never figure out what’s bothering her while she hides behind her emotionless mask, so I use the tactics that worked yesterday.
“Do you hate the thought of marrying me that much?” I say with another measured step closer.
She blinks and slowly digests my words.
“No, I don’t. I just—”
“Are you dreading sleeping with me that much?” I interrupt.
Her eyes flit around the room as she realizes her predicament. She takes a tiny step backward and shakes her head.
“No, I—”
“Then what did your mother do to you?” I say, now almost in reaching distance.
“Nothing! I told you, I just didn’t sleep well, so—”
“Prove it,” I demand.
She halts mid-step and searches my face, no doubt recalling what happened the last time I spoke those words.
“H-how?”
“Strip. Take off all your clothes. Leave nothing covered. I need to see every inch of you.”
She flicks a glance toward the door, but the determination in her glare assures me she won’t bolt. Even if she does, no one will bat an eye if I chase her down and toss her over my shoulder.
She’s mine.
“Fine, but—” I watch in fascination as she brushes against me on her way across the room. She picks up a chair from beside the door and drops it near the head of the exam table before stomping to the other side and pointing at the empty seat. “You sit there the entire time, and you’ll keep your hands to yourself.” She crosses her arms over her chest in the most impertinent and standoffish pose a woman has ever dared to take with me. “And I’m not touching you, either.”
Satisfied she’s somewhat back to her feisty self, I smirk and trail my fingertips over the table as I approach her.
Her pupils shrink. She steps back only to press against the wall.
“It still seems like you’re dreading having sex with me,” I taunt.
She shakes her head. I reach for the buttons on the front of her dress. She swats my hand away.
“I’m not, but you promised to protect me. Are you breaking your word?”
I can’t stop my smirk from widening into a smile. Her fire fills me with delight.
“Alright, mia topolina. I’ll sit. I’ll watch. I’ll keep my hands to myself. Just. This. Once.”
She watches me with a skeptical expression as I ease my way backward to the chair, maintaining eye contact and waiting to finish my speech until after I plant my ass.
“But next time, I’ll make you pay for teasing me.”
Her sharp inhale expands her lungs and presses her breasts against the fabric of her dress. My mouth waters and heart pounds as she glares at me and clenches her fists at her sides.
“It’s not my fault you refuse to leave the room, so no, you will not make me pay for anything. Capisci?”
An addiction forms. Lust hardens my cock faster than ever before as she stands her ground, all but daring me to squash her.
I need this. I need her.
This is a level of trust I never thought I’d earn from anyone, much less the angry little mafia princess who fainted at my feet six years ago.
She risked only her pride when she reached out to hold my hand before her blood draw, but by challenging me now, she risks her physical well-being along with her entire future.
Knowing I don’t deserve her but needing to earn her trust, I settle back in the chair and cross my arms over my chest.
She sighs and kicks off her sandals.
When she unbuttons the top button of her dress, I growl and tilt my head, indicating she move to my side of the exam table. After a moment of petulance, she strides to stand several paces beyond the foot of the table, far out of reach but in full view of my hungry eyes.
I can’t help but brace my knees further apart, requiring more room for my hard, throbbing cock, but despite the need roaring through me, I remind myself why I’m torturing myself like this.
Remembering her mother’s scowl cools my ardor.
Even as she strips with impersonal, efficient movements, I struggle to breathe as she reveals more of her curves. She shrugs her dress off her shoulders and uses the table for balance as she steps out of the fabric before folding and placing it on the counter.
My mouth waters. I want to peel her black, lacy bra and panties off with my teeth, but the material accentuates her curves so well it seems a shame to take them off before I have the chance to fully appreciate them.
I keep one arm tucked against my front, but bring my other fist to my mouth and bite my knuckle, needing the sting to remain in my seat.
She reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra with practiced ease, but her lips flatten in a grimace as she brings her arms in front of her.
“Where are you hurt, Aurora?”
Even as I ask, she smacks her folded bra on the counter and tucks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.
Her high, pert breasts barely wobble as she pushes her panties down her legs and steps out of the tiny scrap of fabric.
Words elude me as she folds her undergarment as though I’m not even in the room and sets it on top of her other clothes. Completely nude except for the tape and cotton ball in the crook of her arm, she squares her body with mine and stands with her feet shoulder-width apart and her arms out beside her.
I cannot breathe. She’s perfect.
“No bruises. No scars. No abuse,” she says as she rotates her arms to show me the other sides.
Unable to help myself, I pull my knuckle away from my teeth and draw a tiny circle in front of me, demanding she spin around.
She sighs and rolls her eyes—actually rolls her eyes—before following my silent demand.
When I find nothing but smooth, tempting skin, I nod toward the gown and focus on regulating my breathing as my eyes follow her every move.
Mio Dio, my cock has never been so hard before. I’ve never wanted someone so viscerally before, either. I don’t know why our parents are conniving to see us married, but I’m extremely grateful they are.
She puts on the oversized gown and overlaps the flaps at the front before unlocking the door and pulling out the second step attached to the table.
Her glare warns me against offering help, and honestly, I might lose control if I so much as move a single muscle, so I remain as still as a statue even as the new doctor waltzes into the room.
The female proves kind, efficient—maybe a little too efficient for my taste—and unbiased throughout the entire examination. When she props her hip on the counter and finishes typing her findings on her laptop, I expect her to say the visit is over, but she clicks to a different screen and announces she has the results for Aurora’s basic bloodwork.
My future bride stops fiddling with the paper blanket draped over her lap and gives the physician her full attention. Something in her expression catches my eye, but she smooths her features in a calm mask before I can decipher what it means.
“Everything looks fine except your iron levels. A point or two lower and we’d consider you anemic, but it’s nothing to worry about,” the doctor says, assuring Aurora when she stiffens. “We can get you within normal range with an iron supplement and by increasing your intake of leafy green vegetables, red meat, and things like iron-enriched cereals.”
Aurora nods and thanks the doctor, who then says she’s free to dress and we can leave whenever we’re ready. After she closes the door behind her, Aurora turns a quizzical gaze my way.
“I’m not moving until you’re back in that dress,” I snarl.
With a scowl and a shrug, she hops off the table and puts her back to me as she pulls her panties on without taking off the gown. I watch in frustrated amazement as she snaps her bra into place and works her dress up her legs without offering me more than a glimpse of her pale flesh as she slips back into her clothes. She flings the gown onto the table, steps into her shoes, and snags her purse from the chair beside the door before meeting my gaze.
I surge from the chair and stalk toward my prey.
