by Bethany-Kris
“Why is that?” Cat asked, tampering the lust in her voice.
“Because we have a great deal more power than the Calabrese family in New York. They know it and wisely choose to bend to our control.” Dante slid off the stool, offering his hand for Cat to take. “Come, dance with me for a little while. That asshole isn’t the only one in the room tonight who has been running his mouth. Might as well give the gawkers a good show.”
“Dance?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you can’t dance, Amore.”
“I can,” Cat said. She didn’t know if it was such a good idea right now. “Can you?”
Dante scoffed. “That’s just rude. Come on, Cat.”
Cat took his hand and let him pulled her off the barstool.
Dante could dance, quite well, actually. He liked to lead and she didn’t mind letting him. Cat shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was that he moved with her swaying body in perfect harmony. The man seemed to be damn good at everything else he did, so why not this, too? With her backside tight against his groin, their hips grinding to the fast pace beat of the music, his hands roamed her curves with an affectionate touch.
What the feeling of his hands left behind, however, was anything but tender. Cat’s skin burned, desire lighting a wicked fire. She could still taste the remnants of his kiss and feel how his lips felt pressed to her mouth.
She was wading into dangerous territory.
Dante’s voice in her ear as his lips kissed her jaw softly broke her thoughts. “Thank you for playing along earlier. And for this, I suppose.”
Cat nodded in response, but she needed to get away from him. To think, maybe breathe. She wasn’t sure. Even if every inch of her body was screaming for her to stay, she couldn’t. Making an attachment with this man, even a physical one, would be bad for them both.
It would only hurt him.
Somehow, Dante seemed to sense her inner war. He stepped away from her, spinning her around so she could face him. His dark eyebrow lifted, waiting for her to speak or explain why she had gone so rigid in his arms. Or, that’s what Cat suspected he was thinking.
“I should go,” Cat said quietly, her words disappearing into the loud music. “I have—”
“Don’t make excuses,” Dante interrupted firmly. “I get it. We made an agreement, so let’s keep it. I’ll see you at church on Sunday, Catrina.”
Cat was thankful for his bluntness once again.
“Sunday.”
It didn’t take Cat long at all to find her way out of the club. The fresh, cold air of the parking lot seared into her lungs. Quickly, she found her car, got inside and slumped against the driver’s seat the moment the door closed and offered her privacy.
Being alone did nothing to calm the raging storm in her body. The ache was still present; the want crashed in her chest along with her racing heart. Pressing her thighs together, she willed away the urge to feel something there to subdue the throbbing. It didn’t help. Her sex was clenching, needing pressure as her clit pulsed.
Before Cat understood what she was doing, her own hand was between her legs, dipping under the white lace thong she wore to find the relief she craved. The moment the tips of her fingers came in contact with her sensitive folds, Cat jerked in the seat, air rushing out of her lungs painfully hard.
She slipped her fingers lower, spreading the lips of her sex to find her slit soaked with her silky fluids. With the heel of her palm pressing roughly to her clit, Cat plunged two fingers into her pussy. The walls of her sex hugged her digits, more proof of her want taunting her. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but the fast beat of her fingers fucking her own pussy offered a little relief to let her breathe again.
The peak didn’t come, not like she wanted it to. Certainly not as fast as she needed it to. Adding a third finger didn’t help. Curling her digits to stimulate her G-spot only caused her wetness to gush, but it didn’t throw her over the edge of the orgasm clawing around her senses.
Cat whined, slamming her back into the seat, desperately craving release to make her need disappear. Her one hand pushed against the steering wheel for support she didn’t even need. Loud, echoing cries shredded their way past her trembling lips. Christ, she was so fucking close. So close. It was only when she thought of Dante’s mouth on hers, imagined it was his fingers stroking inside her sex that her mind and nerves finally succumbed to the inevitable bliss.
Minutes passed as Cat calmed, withdrawing her shaking hand from between her legs and fixing her dress. She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that, but she wasn’t all too worried about anyone seeing her slip in control considering the windows on her new car—a gift from her husband-to-be—were tinted so dark they were illegal.
A two knuckle rap on the passenger window made Cat jump, a shriek of surprise catching in her throat. Turning the car on, she rolled down the window. Gaetano’s familiar form came into view as he rested his arms across the window and leaned in the car.
Without a doubt, Cat knew the man could smell the scent of her arousal still floating in the car, but he didn’t say a thing. Gaetano wouldn’t—not being who he was. The man didn’t judge and Cat adored him for it.
“Pao and I are going to catch that flight tomorrow morning to get things settled with the clientele down in LA for a little while. You going to be okay here without us?”
“Are you seriously asking me that, Gae?”
“You’re off your game if you’re letting a man get in your head, Cat.”
“He’s not in my head,” she barked.
“Really? That was quite a show in there, regina,” Gaetano drawled. “And you’re looking mighty hot and bothered right now.”
“Don’t start.”
“You like him.”
Cat wet her lips. “I do.”
“Well, remember who you’re doing this for in the first damn place, Queen. You can’t let your heart fuck up what your head already knows.”
“I’m aware.”
“I hope so. I suppose I won’t see you again for a few months after the wedding, huh?” Gaetano asked, chuckling.
“Something like that.”
“Three more weeks and you’ll be a married woman. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Technically, you won’t.”
“Good. I think it’d give me a goddamn heart attack from the shock.”
Cat sighed, turning off the car. “Call me a cab, Gae.”
“Why?”
“I’m a little drunk.”
Chapter Six
“You don’t have to do this,” Lucian said, keeping his voice down so the rest of their family across the room couldn’t hear.
Dante shrugged, fixing his cream colored tie in the mirror. “Don’t I?”
“Okay, let me rephrase that. You shouldn’t have to marry a woman you don’t love just for the sake of Cosa Nostra, Dante.”
“You’re becoming awfully soft in the heart ever since you married Jordyn, brother.”
“I am not. I could still shove my foot up your ass if I wanted. I’ve simply grown up from that nonsense.” The edge of Lucian’s mouth curved into a wicked smirk. “Nice try. Deflection won’t work with me.”
“We both know I have to do this,” Dante murmured, meeting his brother’s gaze in the reflection of the glass.
“What if …”
“What if what?”
“What if I were to stand in for you at the Commission. Until you were ready—completely ready.”
“If you mean until I find a woman I love, that’s probably never going to happen. Love makes shit complicated and that’s something I don’t need right now. Besides, you don’t want to be Don, Lucian. How is making you stand in for me any different than me marrying Catrina to ensure my standing in la famiglia?”
Lucian didn’t answer and Dante caught himself wondering if his older brother’s opinion had changed on being the leader of their crime family. If it had, that would only lead to problems for them both. Bloody ones. Nobody w
anted that issue.
“Lucian, I asked a question. I would like an answer.”
“It’s not, you’re right.”
“Everyone but Dad keeps telling me I don’t have to do this,” Dante said, sighing. He went about pulling on his tux jacket and doing up the buttons.
“Because we don’t want you to be unhappy,” Lucian replied.
“I’m aware. My problem is you’re also assuming I don’t want to.”
Lucian turned stiff. “You want to get married?”
“I want to be Don. I need to be married to get there. So, I’ve found a woman who wants a similar goal to mine, can be of use to me without causing me too many problems, and one who doesn’t need emotional nonsense from me to keep her happy. Also, she makes me want to kill her and fuck her at the same time. It’s entertaining, if nothing else.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Lucian mumbled under his breath.
“But we’re not like that,” Dante added, shrugging like it didn’t make a difference. Inside, he knew it was a lie. Ignoring how attracted he was to Catrina had become nearly impossible, but he managed. “Yes, I want to marry Catrina. She’s the best option for my situation and requirements. I’m the best for hers.”
Lucian blinked, his surprise flitting over his gaze. “Okay, then.”
“Good. I’m glad we got that cleared up.” Dante glanced over his shoulder, seeing the rest of his family, minus Gio and Lucian’s wives, were waiting to leave for the church. “Let’s get me married.”
• • •
Dante was astounded at how large their church looked when it wasn’t filled to the brim with parishioners. Out of the many rows of pews, only the first few on both sides of the aisle were filled with guests to the small wedding.
Lucian’s wedding had been massive. Giovanni didn’t have one at all and refused to let his mother throw a celebration party afterward. Dante and Catrina’s ceremony would be a short affair with little pomp and circumstance. A dinner for family and close friends back at the Marcello home was planned for later.
Naturally, that didn’t mean nothing at all had been done for their day to make the church feel as if a wedding was taking place on a quiet Tuesday. A white satin runner lined the aisle. Blush creams and white colored tulle linked between each pew, attached with bows of silk tied around the stems of arranged roses. Petals scattered the floor up the altar where Dante stood waiting with his hands clasped at his back. Light from the late morning filtered in through the stained glass windows, bathing the church in muted colors.
No one stood beside Dante at the altar. Their witnesses would stand when needed, but they really didn’t need or want them beyond that. Dante didn’t think it mattered. He and Catrina were adults moving into the next step of life together—a unit of one.
It was their wedding, after all. Better to do what they wanted for it.
Catrina wanted to walk down the aisle alone. Dante wanted to stand alone.
When the music changed slightly in tempo, Dante stared down the aisle as the guests stood from their seats. Their chosen witnesses, Lucian and Jordyn, who would sign their documents, had already made their entrance and sat down in the front pew along with the rest of the immediate Marcello family. A grin split Dante’s lips as he met Catrina’s gaze at the other end of the church.
Catrina was beautiful. Of course, she was.
It wasn’t her stunning features or demure crimson smile hidden beneath the sheerness of a veil that surprised him. No, it was the color of her dress. A blush pink, pale cream, much like the color of his vest, tie, and the silks and tulles decorating the church. Lace wrapped the bodice of her gown tight to her trim, toned figure, showcasing her hourglass shape off perfectly. Capped sleeves kept the bust modest. The dress stayed snug to her body to just below her thighs were the lace began to flare outward until it met the floor in a smooth line.
Catrina had been particular about certain aspects of their wedding. Dante decided to take a step back and let her do whatever in the hell she wanted. Even so, from the very first time they sat down and discussed their preferences for the wedding, she had been so fucking secretive about her dress.
Dante thought it ridiculous. Just a little, given they weren’t exactly a traditional couple. And despite the fact they were tying the knot in a Catholic church, the ceremony would be much shorter than a full Catholic ceremony. But that dress … that damned dress, Catrina kept everything she could about it as quiet as possible.
Bad luck, he remembered her telling him.
Dante had rolled his eyes, let her have her fun, and brushed it off.
Now, he was glad she had stayed as tight-lipped as she did. Nothing about them or this day was truly real—not in an emotional sense. He hadn’t woken up that morning with nerves making him anxious. It felt like any other Tuesday with an extra event added on he needed to get done before he could move onto more important things.
It just … was.
Simply put, Catrina’s dress was stunning. She looked absolutely gorgeous in it. The sight of the pink cream lace, her veil trimmed with pearls, and her smile beneath felt honest. Gratitude danced hand in hand with his brief moment of pleasure.
So, Dante reveled in that one thing she had managed to give him without even really knowing it. The closer Catrina came down the aisle, the bigger his grin grew. He didn’t think about the people watching him or her from the pews. Their thoughts and opinions on the day wouldn’t make a difference to the end result.
Father Peter, who stood just a foot behind Dante with his bible in hand, chuckled. Very quietly, the priest said, “She’s a beautiful bride, Dante.”
Dante nodded almost subtly, keeping his gaze on Catrina all the while. “She is.”
And even if Catrina wasn’t really his, she still would be in a way. If nothing else came of the day that one thing was something Dante would keep. Privately, to be sure, but he would keep it.
When Catrina came to a stop at the bottom of the altar, she flashed him with a brilliant smile and a wink. Even in church, the girl was trouble. But with that simple action, she took away all the tension still lingering in his ramrod straight spine. She would seal his fate, his seat within his family, and he was so thankful for that. Dante didn’t think for one minute their agreement would be easy, but he decided to be open to Catrina’s friendship.
Even if she came with claws.
Dante walked down the steps of the altar to stand at Catrina’s side and face the priest. His gaze caught the back of her dress and his mouth went dry. While the color and style were more than appropriate for a Catholic service, the wide open back dipping nearly down to the swell of her ass pushed the line.
And good fucking God, was it sexy as sin.
Dante willed the sudden rise of desire shooting through his bloodstream away. He did not need that shit right now. Not in church.
Father Peter said his introduction of the couple for the attendees. There was very little wiggle room in a Catholic ceremony for certain aspects, especially in the area of tradition and the rite of marriage.
“Dante, who presents you for this union?” Father Peter asked.
“I give myself into this union freely.”
“Who presents you today, child?” Father Peter asked Catrina.
“I present myself.”
“And do you come into this union free in mind and pure in heart to tie your soul with this man?”
Catrina smirked wickedly under her veil. “Certainly free of mind, Father.”
A quiet round of chuckles murmured through the small, still standing crowd of guests.
Father Peter clicked his tongue chidingly, but Dante heard the humor when the priest said, “Do I have to ask again, Catrina?”
“I come willingly into this union, Father.”
“And, Dante, do you come into this union free in your mind and pure in your heart, open to tying your soul with this woman’s?”
“I come willingly,” Dante replied.
Father Peter smiled. “Do
you stand here together, giving one another the promise of lifelong fidelity and loyalty to your marriage?”
“We do,” Catrina and Dante said together.
Dante wet his lips, waiting for the final question before they could begin the ceremony. It had only been included because it needed to be, not because he wanted it to be. The priest knew of Dante’s reasons for including the pointless question for the couple, so that made it a little easier.
Father Peter’s smile faded a bit as he asked, “Together as a unity in your marriage, are you open to children?”
“We are,” they answered together quietly.
“Good, then let’s begin.”
Kim stepped away from Giovanni’s side in the front row to take the small bouquet of white roses from Catrina’s outstretched hand.
Once Kim was back in line with her husband and the rest of the Marcello family, Catrina and Dante walked up the steps leading to the raised altar. As Catrina turned to face Dante, she held her hands out for him to take and he did without a flicker of hesitation before Father Peter asked them to. Dante considered it a show of her willingness to see their arrangement through, so he took the action for what it was.
Two chairs were placed behind Dante and Catrina so they could participate with the rest of the guests during the ceremony. They would stand, kneel, pray, read, and act as one with everyone else.
Father Peter began, his usual vocal timber strong and clear as he spoke, blessing both the couple and the guests. When he finished the initial blessing, Catrina released Dante’s hands at the same time he let go of hers. Both made the motions of the cross in time with the priest and guests before the people and the couple were asked to sit.
Catrina and Dante had forgone the option of having individual speakers read their choice in prayers and Gospels, and instead, chose for the priest to do the readings.
Dante canted his head just enough to catch Catrina’s stare in his own. Her smile hadn’t disappeared below her veil, but it wasn’t as coquettish as before. Now, it seemed like she was watching him from the side with a little more intensity as the priest delivered the selected scripture and spoke of the wise man who built his house on rock.