by Cora Reilly
On the drive to Dante’s mansion at Chicago’s Goldcoast, neither of us spoke. It seemed to become a loathsome tradition for us. I busied myself watching traffic through the passenger window while I desperately tried to hide my rising nervousness. Was it possible to feel excitement and dread at the same time?
Dante slowed as we approached a huge light-brown three-story mansion. Wrought iron gates swung open when Dante pressed a button in the dashboard and we drove through, then headed for the double garage. My family’s mansion wasn’t too far away. It was smaller than Dante’s home, as was to be expected. The Underboss couldn’t have a bigger house than his Capo.
After Dante had parked next to a Mercedes SUV, he got out. He walked around the car and opened my door for me, then held out his hand and helped me out of the car, which was difficult with my dress. His hand was warm and steady. I was always surprised not to find his skin ice-cold as his persona. He released me the moment I stood, and I almost reached for his hand but stopped myself. I didn’t want to push him. Maybe he could only ever let loose behind closed doors.
He led me through a side door into the lobby of the mansion. The floor and the staircase were dark hardwood and a chandelier cast a soft glow down on us. It was strangely quiet. I knew Dante had a maid and a cook, who handled the household for him.
“I gave Zita and Gaby the day off,” he said off-handedly. Could he read me that easily?
“That’s good,” I said, then cringed at how that might have sounded. It wasn’t as if I thought we’d entertain the entire house with our bedroom noises, but I preferred to have total privacy for our first night together.
Dante headed straight for the staircase, then stopped with a hand on the banister to look back at me. I’d halted in the middle of the lobby but quickly rushed toward him and followed him upstairs. My stomach fluttered with nerves.
This was my second wedding night, but I was almost as inexperienced as I’d been all those years ago, something I really hoped would change tonight. Antonio and I had kissed occasionally at the beginning of our marriage, and he’d even touched my breasts through my nightgown a few times, but when it became clear to me that he wasn’t into it, we abandoned those futile attempts at intimacy.
I wanted to become a real wife, a real woman, and unlike Antonio, I knew Dante was perfectly capable of consuming our marriage. But that was also my problem. What if Dante noticed I was a virgin? Could I hide it from him? Maybe if I asked him to extinguish the lights, I could hide my discomfort or blame it on nerves over being with someone other than Antonio. But what if he felt my hymen? What would I tell him then? I should have used a vibrator to get rid of it, but the romantic part didn’t want to lose my virginity to a device. It was ridiculous.
My thoughts were interrupted when Dante opened the door to the master bedroom and made an inviting gesture for me to go in. I walked past him, my wedding dress swooshing gently with the movement. I flashed him a quick glance in passing to gauge his mood, but as usual his expression was unreadable. The king sized bed was black wood with black satin covers. For a moment I wondered if he’d kept it black since his wife’s death. And then a worse thought took its place: was it the same bed he’d shared with his first wife?
“The bathroom is through that door,” Dante said with a nod toward a dark wood door to my right.
I hesitated. Did he want me to freshen up? He closed the bedroom door and started loosening his tie. Didn’t he want to undress me? He headed toward the window and looked out, his back to me. I got the hint. Disappointed, I walked into the marble bathroom. It was black marble, so maybe Dante simply liked black. I strode toward the window that faced the same direction as the one in the bedroom, wondering if Dante saw the same view I did; the boisterous lake, the black clouds dotting the night-blue sky and blotting out the full moon, or was he far away, lost in memories? The idea made me uncomfortable and so I turned away from the window and began to undress before I took a quick shower. I’d waxed my legs in preparation for the wedding as was tradition, so I didn’t need to shave. After I’d dried off, I put on the plum satin nightgown I’d bought for the occasion and brushed out my hair. My stomach fluttered again with nerves and excitement. I took a few moments to gather myself, to look all the way the experienced woman I was supposed to be; then I stepped back into the bedroom. Dante hadn’t moved from his spot at the window. I allowed myself a moment to admire him in his black suit. He looked strong and sophisticated, untouchable, with his hands pushed into his pockets. An iceman, cold, emotionless, controlled.
I cleared my throat nervously and he turned toward me. His cold blue eyes scanned my body briefly but his expression didn’t change. There wasn’t even the flicker of desire. There was nothing. He might as well have been carved from stone. Antonio had at least complimented me on my beauty on our wedding night. He’d even kissed me, had tried to pretend he could desire me, but it had become obvious pretty quickly that the kiss had done nothing for him.
But what stopped Dante? I deflated inwardly at his reaction. I knew many men found me pleasant to look at and they had never seen me this scantily dressed, but Dante didn’t seem to be interested in me. I knew his wife hadn’t looked anything like me. Where I was tall and dark, she’d been petite with light brown hair.
“You can lie down. I’ll grab a shower,” he said. His gaze shifted for the barest moment but then he stalked into the bathroom and closed the door after him.
Trying to fight my frustration, I walked up to the bed and slid under the covers. With Antonio, I’d known that he wouldn’t react to my body the way I wanted him to, but I’d thought it would be different with Dante. Maybe he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. It couldn’t have been easy for him today. He’d loved his wife and marrying again must have been really tough for him. Maybe he needed a shower to prepare himself mentally for the wedding night.
The shower ran for a long time and eventually my eyelids became heavy. I tried to fight the tiredness but at some point I must have dozed off because I jerked awake when the bed dipped. My eyes darted to the side where Dante was stretching out. His chest was naked and I wanted nothing more than to run my hands over his slightly tanned, firm stomach and chest. His cool eyes settled on me. It was impossible to say what he was thinking. Would he reach out for me now?
I lay on my back, waiting for him to do something, nervous and excited and scared. I had to stop myself from making the first move. That would have been too forward.
“I have an early day tomorrow,” he said simply and then he turned the light off and rolled away from me. I was glad the darkness hid my shock and disappointment. I waited for a few more minutes for him to change his mind, to claim his rights, but he didn’t. He lay beside me quiet and unmoving, his back a few inches from my arm.
Hurt welled in me and I rolled over, away from him. Dante was into women, so why didn’t he want to sleep with me? What was wrong with me that after two wedding nights I was still as untouched as the virgin snow? I wasn’t sure I could go through this again. I wanted to experience lust, wanted to be desired. With Antonio, I’d known trying to seduce him was a losing battle from the start, but with Dante I had to try at least. Even if he still loved his wife, he was a man. He had desires and I was perfectly capable of giving him what he physically needed, even if he kept his emotions locked away.
I listened to his calm breathing. Although we weren’t touching, I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He wasn’t an iceman. There had to be a way to crack his mask.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dante wasn’t in bed when I woke the next morning. His side of the bed was cold as I pressed my palm against it. Forcing my anger down, I made sure the door was closed before I slipped my hand into my panties. Over the years with Antonio, I’d learned to give myself pleasure with my fingers. I buried my face in Dante’s pillow, inhaling his musky scent and imagined he was touching me as I stroked myself to an orgasm. Afterward, I lay on my back for a while, staring at the ceiling, wanting to cry and
laugh at the same time.
I slipped out of bed and headed into the bathroom and took my time making myself presentable. I chose a form-fitting brown dress that ended above my knees and a cute red cashmere cardigan. Even if Dante didn’t care, I felt more comfortable if I put an effort into my outfits. I left the bedroom, hesitated and looked down the long corridor, wondering what hid behind the other doors. I’d have to explore at another time. Instead I headed down the staircase. I wasn’t sure if I was expected downstairs for breakfast. I didn’t know my new home, didn’t know the people who worked here, and worst of all: didn’t know the master of the house, my husband.
The double doors were ajar and I approached them, then lingered in front of them for a moment before I walked inside. I’d expected Dante to be gone already and was surprised when I found him sitting at the dining table in the vast living and dining room. As with the rest of the house, the floor was dark wood, the walls light beige, and the furniture dark and imposing.
The newspaper hid Dante’s face but he lowered it when he heard me entering. My brown heels clicked on the hardwood floor as I approached the table slowly, unsure of how to act around him. Antonio had been my friend first, and then my husband, but there was nothing between Dante and me. We were strangers.
The table was set for two people, but my plate wasn’t next to Dante, instead it had been set at the other end of the table. I stared at the distance between Dante and me, considering to ignore the set-up and to sit beside Dante, but then I lost courage and took my seat at the end of the table.
“I hope you slept well?” Dante asked in his smooth voice. He hadn’t put down the newspaper, still held onto it, and I had a feeling it would come up as a barrier between us again soon.
Was he being serious? “Too well,” I said, not able to stop the jibe. Didn’t he realize I’d expected a bit more from our first night together?
“I still have to prepare for a meeting with Luca. He’ll be here soon as he heads back to New York tonight, but I told him you’d be delighted to keep Aria company while we discuss business.”
I doubted Aria was in need of my company. She had her family here. This was a way to keep me occupied, nothing else. If he’d wanted a naïve wife, maybe he should have agreed to marry someone younger. But I liked Aria and it would have been rude to retract the invitation, so I smiled tightly. “That’s very considerate of you.” Sarcasm tinged my words. Now that we were married, it would be more difficult to keep up the polite mask.
Dante met my gaze, and there was something in them that made me lower my eyes and grab a Croissant. I wasn’t hungry, but it was better than doing nothing. The rustling of paper drew my attention back to the other end of the table. As expected, Dante had disappeared behind his newspaper. Was this how he wanted our marriage to go? He hadn’t even showed me around the house yet. “Will you give me a tour of the premises? I can hardly host guests without knowing my way around the house.”
Dante lowered his newspaper again and folded it on the table. I felt the unreasonable urge to rip it into shreds. “You are right.”
Excitement bubbled up in me but quickly dissipated at his next words. “Gaby!”
A moment later a door half hidden behind a massive cupboard opened and a short teenage girl entered the room and headed toward Dante. “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”
I had trouble masking my surprise. Gaby looked like she belonged in high school. How could she be the maid in this house?
“My wife,” Dante said with a nod in my direction. Gaby turned toward me briefly with a shy smile. “Would like to get a tour of the house. I’m busy, so please show her around.”
Gaby nodded and walked toward me. “Would you like to go now?” Her voice was hesitant, but I could see curiosity in her eyes. I swallowed the last crumb of my Croissant and poured coffee into my mug. “Yes, please. I’m going to take my coffee with me if that’s okay?”
Gaby’s eyes grew wide and she darted a look toward Dante, who was back to reading his newspaper. He didn’t look busy to me. If he had time to read the news why couldn’t he show me around? But I wouldn’t cause a scene in front of Gaby. Dante must have felt Gaby and me watching him expectantly because he raised his eyes. “This is your home now, Valentina. You can do whatever you want.”
So he had been listening to our conversation. And I wondered if what he said was really the case. I wished I were more courageous so I could test the theory. I turned back to Gaby and cradled my mug in my hands. “Then let’s go.”
She nodded and led me toward the door she’d come through earlier. “We could start in the kitchen and staff room?”
“Do whatever you think is best,” I said. “You know the house better than I do.”
Again a shy smile flitted across her face. Behind the door was a narrow corridor, which led into a vast kitchen. Potts hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. Everything was stainless steel and it reminded me more of a canteen kitchen than a place where family meals were prepared. A round older woman stood at the oven and checked the temperature. Inside what looked like a lamb roast was cooking. I assumed this was the cook, Zita. She turned around as she heard us enter and wiped her hands on her white apron. Her black hair had gray streaks in it and was secured in a hair net atop her head. I guessed she was in her mid-fifties.
“I’m giving our mistress a tour of the house,” Gaby said excitedly. I startled at the use of mistress. That sounded like I was a whip wielding dominatrix. Maybe Dante was comfortable being called ‘Sir’, but I definitely couldn’t live with ‘mistress’.
“Please call me Valentina,” I said quickly. “Both of you.” I smiled at Zita but she didn’t return the gesture. Her lips were pursed and she was scanning me from head to toe with a look of disapproval on her face.
“It would have been nice to meet you before the wedding,” Zita said haughtily.
I forced my face to remain calm even if I didn’t like her tone. I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with the service personnel in the house. “Dante never invited me, and I didn’t think it appropriate to invite myself.”
She huffed. “He introduced Mistress Carla to us before the wedding.”
I stiffened at the mentioning of Dante’s first wife, couldn’t help it. I could hear the judgment in her voice. She thought me less worthy than Carla. I had a feeling she wouldn’t let me forget it. I wasn’t looking forward to a battle of wills with her, and I definitely didn’t have the patience for it today. I looked around the kitchen instead, trying to pretend I wasn’t bothered by her comment. “So did Carla cook here often?”
Zita gave me a shocked look. “Of course not. She was the mistress of the house. She didn’t cook or clean. That’s what I and Febe did, before Gaby took Febe’s place.”
Gaby shifted nervously. It was clear that she didn’t know what to do.
“Well, you can expect me in the kitchen often. I love to cook,” I said.
Zita straightened her shoulders. “I don’t know if Master Dante will allow it.”
I took a sip from my coffee, returning her gaze steadily. “Dante told me I could do whatever I want.” She looked away from me with a frown. I knew it wasn’t over yet.
“Why don’t you show me the rest of the house, Gaby? I need to make sure I’m ready when Aria arrives.”
Gaby bobbed her head quickly. “Of course, Mis…Valentina.”
She led me into the room behind the kitchen. It seemed to be a sort of common room for the staff. There were two cots, a small TV and a couch. No chairs or table, but I assumed the staff usually gathered around the wooden table in the kitchen, since it obviously wasn’t used for Dante’s meals. There was also a small bathroom with a shower behind a white door. “Is this where you and Zita spend your time when you don’t work?”
Gaby shook her head. “We stay in the kitchen. This is mostly for the guards because they spend the nights.”
“Where are they now?” I hadn’t seen any guards so far.
“They a
re outside. Either patrolling the grounds or in their guardhouse.”
“Are there security cameras?”
“Oh no, Mr. Cavallaro didn’t want them. He’s a very private man.” No surprise there.
She headed toward another door. “This way.” We stepped into the back part of the lobby. Gaby pointed at the two doors in the hall. “This is Mr. Cavallaro’s office, and that’s the library. Mr. Cavallaro doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s in his office.” She flushed. “By us, I mean. He’s probably happy to be disturbed by you.” She bit her lip.
I touched her shoulder. “I understand. So are there other rooms on this floor?”
“Only the living and dining room, and the guest bathroom.”
As Gaby led me upstairs, I asked. “How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Shouldn’t you still be going to school?” I sounded like my mother, but Gaby’s shy nature brought out my motherly side even though she was only six years younger than me.”
“I’ve been working for Mr. Cavallaro for three years. I came into this house shorty after his wife died. I never met her but Zita really misses her, that’s why she was rude to you.”
My eyes grew wide. “For three years? That’s horrible.”
“Oh no,” Gaby said quickly. “I’m thankful. Without Mr. Cavallaro I’d probably be dead, or worse.” She shuddered, a dark look passing in her eyes. I could tell that she didn’t want to talk about it. I’d have to talk to Dante about her later. She quickened her pace and pointed at doors on this floor. “These are guest bedrooms. And beside your Master bedroom, there’s a room you could use for your own purposes. The nursery and two additional rooms are on the third floor.”
My eyes rested on a door at the end of the corridor that Gaby had ignored. I headed in its direction. “What about this one?”
Gaby gripped my arm before I could turn the handle. “That’s where Mr. Cavallaro keeps his first wife’s things.”