It didn’t occur to me until I handed her the box at her birthday party that she might not find the words as romantic as I do.
I’ve been known to be…abrupt.
Harsh. Commanding. Demanding.
Taking what I want.
Like this moment I’ve stolen from her.
She had only a few hours to herself before becoming my wife and I’ve taken those from her too. I needed to be with her.
I needed to be inside her.
And now, in this moment, my needs are met. I move deeper into her. She gives a soft sigh as I roll my hips towards her, then away.
I wonder if she found the inscription.
And if she did, I wonder how she reacted. She’s impulsive, heated. I could easily picture her throwing it across the room.
Or out the window.
But she wears the ring.
I move inside her again, my body pressing against her, going deeper until she gives the moan I want to hear.
I reach for her hand, holding it in mine under the moonlight.
The gold glimmers under the silver light. It’s as beautiful on her as I imagined it would be.
She wears it on her left ring finger…
I still my cock inside her as I take it in.
She gives an impatient wiggle of her hips. “More.”
“Hold on, little girl.” I give her ass a squeeze, looking over the ring.
Has she read the inscription?
I think of her feisty ways. Of how she was never afraid to fight back if someone tormented her as a child. Anyone other than me, that is. To me, she tried but always failed.
I imagine her reading the words you will be mine, that sneer she so loves to give me pinching her beautiful face.
I turn the ring with my fingertip. “You kept it.”
Her heavy lids flutter open. “What?”
“The ring.”
She follows my gaze to her finger. “Oh. Yes. Why?”
Releasing her hand, I wrap my arms around her, flipping us both over, still inside of her as I sit on the bed. She’s straddling me now, my cock buried deep inside her.
This new position brings me deeper into her and she welcomes me with a moan. A strand of her hair falls down in front of her face. I reach up, tucking it behind her ear. “I just wondered.”
I grab her hips, so slim and small in my hands. Lifting my pelvis, I thrust into her.
Her fingers scrape my back as she cries out my name. “Luca!” I do it again, harder, watching her face as I make her head loll back, a pretty moan escaping her lips.
I have to know. “Did you read the inscription?”
Her eyes open. The flush on her face deepens. From my cock burying deeper inside of her, or from my words, I’m not sure.
Her gaze narrows, her eyes cutting to mine. “Yes. I did.”
I tighten my hold on her hips, my fingertips digging into her flesh as I thrust upwards, plunging hard inside of her.
Making her gasp.
I fuck her, faster, harder, burying deep inside her.
“Oh. My God. Luca.” Her hands go to my shoulders, clinging to me. I’ll wear the mark of her nails in my flesh tomorrow. “What are you doing to me—”
Her head moves forward, her lips parting, her jaw slack. Her eyes close, her brows knitting as I fuck her.
I want to know.
“And still, you kept it?” Sliding my hand up her belly, I cup her breast, taking her pretty pink bud in my fingers. “I asked you a question.”
I pinch until she cries out.
“Yes! I kept it. Can’t you see that I kept it? It’s on my finger.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, little girl.” I punish her sassy words by pressing my hand down on her shoulder as I raise my hips up off the bed, pushing inside of her.
“Too much.” She gives a pretty little whimper.
“Why did you keep it?” I move my mouth to her neck, kissing her flesh until I know she’ll wear a bruise to our wedding. “Tell me. Now.”
I give her pain, I give her pleasure.
I know for my Esme, there is pleasure in the pain.
She gives another sweet whimper that makes my cock want to explode. “I guess, I liked it. When I read it, I wanted to kill you, yes…oh kiss me there, yes, just like that…but then, I don’t know…some part deep inside me liked it.”
I nip her skin and she gives a cry. I pull back, cupping my hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I always knew that about you.”
She gives me a shy look. “What?”
“You want to be taken.”
Her brows raise and furrow, her face turning all sassy and her lips part as she goes to answer, but I don’t let her.
“To be claimed.” I put my mouth on hers, making her kiss me. I scoop my hands under her ass as I stand, her legs wrapping tight around my waist. Wrapping my hands around her lower back, I hold her tight to me.
So tight.
I never want to let her go.
She will be mine. Finally. She will be mine.
I stand there, her arms wrapped around my neck, her legs locked around my waist, and I hold her to me, fucking her as hard as I’ve always wanted to. With the vigor I’ve always imagined.
But nothing I pictured, nothing I daydreamed came close to what I feel in this moment. Her pussy locked tight around my cock, her breaths coming faster, harder, the feel of her heart as it beats against my chest.
The sound of my name as it slides from her lips.
Luca. Luca. Luca.
The feel of her naked body in my arms.
The feel of having her skin against mine.
The feel of being inside her.
It wrecks me.
So, I go harder, faster, fucking her without mercy.
Because this is what she needs. A strong man who will make her obey. Who will protect her and keep her safe.
Because I fear if I soften, even a touch, she’ll do what I know she is capable of.
Wrap me around her damn finger.
And then I might let my guard down.
I won’t be able to keep her safe.
So I fuck her hard, showing no love, without a trace of gentleness, until she’s coming in a violent explosion, crying out, her head falling against my shoulder, her fingernails digging into my skin.
I fuck her until she’s spent. Nothing left. No energy to run off or cause trouble or fuck this up before I can get my name on her, and give her the protection of my family.
I grip her to me and I come, long and deep and hard, every muscle in my body tensing as I bury as deep inside her as I can and fill her with my seed.
I pull her sweaty body from mine, pushing back her hair from her forehead, kissing her.
Carrying her over to the bed, I lay her down, slipping my cock from her. My seed runs down her naked thighs and it looks so pretty, marking her ivory skin under the silver moonlight.
I should leave.
She looks up at me and her one whispered word is my undoing.
Stay.
Just as I feared, she makes me soft.
I lie beside her, gathering her into my arms, her head resting in the crook of my shoulder. “Rest, now. You’ve had a long day.” I kiss the top of her head, knowing what she’s doing to me.
Her fingers lazily trail over my chest, and it feels incredible, little tingles dancing over my skin wherever she touches me.
She gives a sleepy yawn, her words murmured. “Why were you reading Romeo and Juliet that day I came into your courtyard?”
“You mean, the day you fell into my courtyard?”
She gives an exasperated sigh. “Just tell me.”
It pains me to answer her.
I’m not one for emotional confessions.
I think of how I’ve longed for her and how when I read those words, I could picture her up there on the stage, the day I knew we were fated to be together. How reading that book made me feel close to her somehow.
I clear my throat
, unable to believe I’m answering her like this. “I read it because it makes me think of you.”
And I always want to think of you.
Her fingers freeze. She looks up at me, puzzled. “Really? Because of the play?”
I stare into her eyes. “Yes.”
She gives a little smile, makes a hmm noise, like she doesn’t quite believe me and rests her head back down on my shoulder. Her fingers move again, making little circles on my chest as she dozes off.
I hold her in my arms.
And wait for the sun to rise.
I must have nodded off because the next thing I know, Sophia is bursting in the room.
She doesn’t look surprised to find me, Esme in my arms. There are cameras all over this place, and word gets around fast. Russo himself probably knew I was here, and left me to my own will.
He knows his time to protect her has passed.
Sophia tosses the sheet over my naked chest and hisses. “Get going. I’ve got a bride to prepare.”
Sliding my arm out from under Esme, she gives a little murmur, snuggling down harder as she sleeps, as if she doesn’t want me to go.
I give her a little nudge. “Esme. Wake up.”
Her eyelids flutter open. For a moment she looks surprised to see me, then recognition focuses in her gaze and a flush rises in her cheeks. “Oh, my! I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.” Seeing Sophia, her face goes bright red. She clutches the sheet around her bare chest.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, girly.” Sophia tugs at my arm. “You really must go, Luca. We only have a few hours until the ceremony.”
Zipping up my trousers, I slide out from under Esme, leaving her in the bed. Sophia tosses my shirt to me and I raise my arm, catching it in my hand. I shrug into it, buttoning it.
I stare down at Esme, suddenly unable to leave her without a kiss. You’re already growing soft, Luca, and you’ve not yet married the girl.
I lean down, kissing Esme’s forehead. She’s already turning me soft. “See you soon.”
She gifts me a small smile, her fingers twisting the ring around her finger. My ring. “Goodbye.”
Sophia’s hands are on my back, pushing me to the door. “Go on, now. Soon, you’ll have the rest of your life with her, but I get her for the next hour.”
I give Esme a parting glance over my shoulder. She’s sitting up in the bed, the sheet wrapped around her. All the sass and feistiness is gone from her as she gazes at me.
She looks lost, scared.
I don’t want to leave.
I long to hold her, to offer her comfort. To tell her how eager I am to make her my wife. Instead, I find my words coming out gruff, commanding. “Don’t be late.”
And I turn my back to her.
On my way down the hall to the front stairs, I pass Felicity, Vincent’s wife. She’s lovely, with long dark hair and green eyes, and I know she’s been a good mother to Esme since her arrival.
She looks at me with soft eyes, placing a hand on my arm to stop me from leaving. “Luca. I just want to tell you…” Her words trail off and she reaches up to brush tears from her cheeks.
I don’t know what to say. I grow uncomfortable when women cry, unsure how to help them. When I see a problem, I find a solution.
I’m a fixer.
And women tend to not be…fixable.
I clear my throat, hoping to offer some words of comfort. “She’ll be safe with me.”
She gives a nod. “I know. That’s what I wanted to say. Thank you, for—your sacrifice.”
Sacrifice.
It’s Esme that’s making the sacrifice.
Marrying me. A broken man. One who’s hardened to the world.
The only thing that softens me is…her.
I give my head a shake, passing by Felicity. “There was no sacrifice on my part.”
Making my way down the stairs, I’m relieved to find the castle quiet, other than a few staff members rustling about. I step out into the morning air, inhaling deeply. My boots tromp over the grass, slick with dew as I watch the very first stages of the morning sky. The sun is rising, stretching out in reds and pinks and oranges, the very same color of the Free Spirit roses that I had my father order for the wedding.
They were my mother’s favorite. She grew up in the English countryside, her grandmother always had a rose garden. The coral colored ones with the deep pink tips were the prettiest, in her opinion. My father always gave them to her for their wedding anniversary, the date is next week.
One week after mine and Esme’s will be.
My mother would spend days looking at those roses, watching their colors change as their petals opened further. I thought it would be a fitting way to have my mother with me on this momentous day, to be surrounded with her flowers.
To honor my parent’s marriage.
I hope Esme likes them.
As I walk home, I think of the feel of her breast in my hand. The taste of her mouth on my lips. The sound of her saying my name.
Luca. Luca. Luca.
Like a prayer.
Like I’m the one who will save her.
Our land comes into view. It’s a stark contrast to the early morning quiet of the Russo Estate. Huge trucks are parked out front, tables and chairs being unloaded and carried to the courtyard. Buckles stands by a gate, giving a bored yawn at all the bustle. Florists open the rear doors of their vans, hauling great bouquets of the coral colored roses from their depths. A demo crew pulls up, hired to clear away the remains of the burnt shed. The tailor from Main Street rushes through the gates, a measuring tape that’s been flung over his shoulder flaps in the wind behind him as he runs.
A catering truck pulls up beside me, rolling down its window. Joey Ferrari leans his head out, a big grin stretched across his broad face. “Hey, Luca. Couldn’t have given us a little more notice, could ya? My pop pulled me out of bed in the middle of the night, telling me we had to get to cooking for a Romano wedding. What the hell?”
“It was an…emergency.”
His brow furrows. “An emergency wedding?”
“Something like that.” Ignoring him, I cross the meadow to the side gate, the one that leads to the courtyard. I want to check on Nonna.
I’m relieved to find her sitting in a chair in the kitchen, sipping on tea. Buckles is now sleeping in her lap, no doubt purring his head off at being allowed in the house. My brothers are busy pulling up champagne from our wine cellar.
Lance greets me with a grin and a slap on my back, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eye. His arm hangs around me as he raises a green glass bottle in the air. “Champagne toast for your wedding, bro. Dad’s letting us use the Lombardy. I always knew you were his favorite.”
Rocco sneers, grumbling. “Drinking the Lombardy is the only good thing to come of this sham marriage.”
Sham marriage? Is that how my brothers view this union? The desire to clarify makes my blood boil. We Romanos may have pledged never to do irreparable harm to one another, but I can give a warning.
I grab his shoulder, pinning him against the wall. My face close to his, I growl, “This marriage is legit. And Esme will be my wife. Don’t let me hear you speak another word of disrespect about either my marriage or my bride.”
Rocco’s gaze narrows, but he gives a tight nod. “Fine.”
I feel a light, fluttering hand on my shoulder. “Luca. Cool that temper of yours, dear. That’s no way for a groom to behave on his wedding day.”
Nonna.
I release Rocco, turning to greet her. She’s got a soft smile on her face; her gaze is clear and lucid.
This is one of her good days.
I find my heart warming, happy to know that she’ll be here with me today. “Nonna. Did you sleep well?”
“I did. Only I didn’t find you anywhere this morning when I heard the good news and went to congratulate you.” She gives me a wink and a nudge of her elbow. “Out sowing your wild oats one last night?”
“Somethi
ng like that.”
Thinking of my evening with Esme, I suddenly feel free, light. I grab her hand in mine, tucking my other around her waist. What’s coming over me?
Maybe I’m giddy, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but I twirl my grandmother across the kitchen floor. “Will you dance with me today, Nonna? At my wedding?”
She gives a laugh, batting my shoulder with her hand. “Stop this silliness. You know I can’t dance.”
I stop, leaning down to kiss her cheek before releasing her. “You have to dance with me today. One dance. The mother-son dance.”
We share a look, her eyes going misty. Pain surges through my chest, remembering my mother, the darkness of her death.
Nonna reaches up, patting my cheek with her papery hand. “Ah, she’d have loved to be here today. She’d be so proud of the man you’ve become, Luca.”
“Thank you.”
She slips her hand in the pocket of her dress, pulling something out, holding it between her fingers. She holds it up to show me. It’s her ring, the one my grandfather gave her. A tiny chip of a diamond set in a gold band. The band is decorated with delicate little swirls that are cut into the metal.
She takes my hand, placing the ring in my open palm. “When I heard you were to be married today, I told your father I would take care of the ring.” She closes my fingers around the ring, patting my hand.
I don’t want to take this from her—the one thing she has left from my grandfather, but the ring looks so much like Esme, the beauty in its simplicity, and I know it’s meant to be. “Are you sure, Nonna?”
“Yes.” She gives a nod. “Nothing would make me happier. And yes, I’ll give you that dance.” She kisses my cheek.
Fifteen years ago, almost to the day, my mother died just after giving birth to my youngest brother, Sergio.
Lance was thirteen, I was seven, Rocco was three. Nonna stepped in, a strong matriarch, tasking herself with keeping things light, keeping us boys from fighting, and keeping us a tightly knit family.
She held us together.
That’s why it pains me so much on those hard days, the ones where I fear we will lose her soon. Because without a strong woman in this family, I don’t know what will become of us Romano men. Without Nonna, we may end up falling apart from one another.
My hope is that Esme will grow to love my family.
That she will come, and one day we will have children. Build a family. Be the ones that hold this place together when Nonna is gone.
Dark Throne: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals) Page 9