Savage Prince (DeSantis Mafia Book 2)

by S. Massery

  The loss of him inside me has my cunt throbbing. I’ve never been so on edge in my life.

  He picks up his pace, his head forcing its way deeper in my mouth. I try to relax, although tears stream down my face at the intrusion. All I can do is hold on to his thighs and try to keep up.

  Aiden pulls out abruptly, and his cum spills across my face. I close my eyes as it covers me, and then his hand is there, cupping my cheek. His thumb swipes through it, and he presses the digit to my lips.

  I lick him clean, opening my eyes to watch his dark eyes locked on mine.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs.

  My pussy clenches.

  He helps me up and steps back. “Ride that edge for me. It’ll make our wedding night that much sweeter.”

  He leaves, grabbing a towel and disappearing into the bedroom.

  I sag against the wall and swear at him in my head. Still, there’s a thrill in holding off. The sweet lingering pain that reminds me I’m totally his.

  I’m a goner.

  By the time I step out of the shower, Aiden is gone and Cat has replaced him. She takes one look at me and tuts, holding out a silky robe.

  “Nervous?” she asks.

  I shift. “No,” I lie.

  Although, the last DeSantis wedding in New York ended with a death… and contrary to what I told Aiden an hour ago, I really don’t want anyone to shoot him.

  She helps me into the robe and doesn’t call me out on my bullshit.

  I glance at the made bed and start to find two small white boxes on it, a square envelope tucked under the edge of one. I tilt my head, unsure if I even want to look inside them.

  “Hair and makeup are downstairs. Aiden told me you should open those before you put your dress on,” she tells me. “Um, Aiden said I should be your bridesmaid? Is that okay?”

  Tears well in my eyes.

  Fuck, I’m getting married today. I’m not sure why it’s just hitting me now—I knew it as soon as I woke up. But it’s hitting me that I’m getting married, and three days ago, my father was killed in front of me.

  He was supposed to be the one to walk me down the aisle.

  “Oh, no, don’t cry,” Cat says, awkwardly patting my arm. “I’m sure they’ll yell at me for that. Please stop.”

  I dash away the wetness under my eyes and laugh. “You’re brilliant at comforting people.”

  She lets out a relieved sigh. “It worked, yeah?”

  I nod and follow her downstairs. The makeup artist has taken over the dining room table, stuff covering every inch of it. She wears a black apron, her hair tied back in a long fishtail braid. She’s busy fiddling with brushes, but she rights when I approach and smiles widely.

  She introduces herself as Magenta. Cat shows her a photo of the dress I chose, then a few more—I suspect Cat was surfing the internet for bridal hairstyles. They nod, heads together, while I pour myself a cup of coffee.

  The hairstylist comes up and leans her hip on the counter next to me.

  I glance at her, then have to do a double take. “Jess?”

  The dealer from the card game, and Cat’s friend. Of course both of these women are probably inside the family. I hold back my shiver when I think of the ones in the pool room. Are they from there? Plucked out of obscurity for talents that have gone to waste on that floor?

  “You okay?” She pours her own cup from the pot and blows on the liquid.

  “Totally fine.”

  I must be getting better at lying, because she smiles and nods.

  “Pre-wedding jitters are totally understandable. We’re going to make sure you look your best, though. Although even in what you were wearing at the game, he still seemed like he wanted to ravish you.”

  My face heats, and I clear my throat. “Uh-huh.”

  “Mags,” Jess calls. “I’ve got to dry her hair.”

  Magenta waves her hand. “Fine, fine. Hurry.”

  Jess grins. “She’s excited to work on you.”

  I swallow.

  “She’s got mad skills. Don’t worry. I don’t think Cat would let anyone near you today if they didn’t.”

  “Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Let’s, um, do this thing.”

  For the next hour and a half, Jess and Magenta work their magic. I’m not allowed a mirror. Apparently, the surprise will be worth it. Cat’s words, not mine. As they fix me up, my mind wanders back to yesterday.

  To what I found.

  My heart jackhammers with me just thinking about what I stole. It’s just another mess of puzzle pieces, but this time… I think I’m starting to get the idea. It happened too fast. I was only in Jameson’s office for ten or fifteen minutes before I heard their voices outside the door.

  I’d never been so lucky to duck under the desk and not have him sit in his chair. Otherwise, my ruse would’ve been well and truly up.

  Aiden saved me from that.

  Then forced me to see what would’ve happened if I had been caught. Or if he hadn’t advocated for me when I first arrived.

  I shift on my seat, earning a quick tap to the shell of my ear from Magenta’s brush.

  I grip the arms of the chair.

  Why can I see his point now? Why can I look past his anger and see how afraid he was?

  He’s as helpless as me when it comes to his father.

  “Damn it,” I mutter.

  “Hmm?” Cat narrows her eyes.

  “I, uh, don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle.”

  Shit, shit, I didn’t want to think about that. But it just came out of my mouth, and now there’s a pregnant pause. My father is dead—and now I have to get married as an orphan.

  My brother would’ve done it if I wasn’t marrying into this family.

  If they wouldn’t kill him on sight.

  “If you cry, I’ll have to start over,” Magenta laments. “Hold yourself together, girl.”

  “You didn’t use waterproof mascara?”

  I choke on my laugh. Magenta’s expression is pure outrage.

  “Of course I did.” She huffs. “One can never be too sure, especially with brides.”

  I straighten. “Did you do Amelie’s makeup for her wedding?”

  Cat eyes me.

  “I did,” she says. “Well, as much as she would let me. Her mother hovered quite a bit to dictate the look. Amelie had little patience for it. But it was right in this room.”

  Too bad I didn’t have a time machine—I’d ask her to stash something here for me. Not that the weapon I brought in did me many favors, but maybe a phone.

  “Stop scowling,” Magenta demands.

  I relax my face. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m done. Jess?”

  “Yep, close your eyes and let me get the hair spray.” A blast of spray later, and Jess pats my shoulders. “Okay, done.”

  “Dress time!” Cat yells.

  The dress designer, who had been lingering near the coffee pot, steps up. She unzips the garment bag hanging by the window, and my smile stalls.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  It’s my runner-up option. The dress stuck to my curves like it had been painted on. It was too scandalous to even consider wearing in front of other people.

  Her own smile slides off her face. “Aiden—”

  “Fuck Aiden,” I say as calmly as possible. “I told you what dress I wanted. Are you saying he interfered?” My mind races with how he could pull that off. Did he switch it with Cat once she got down to her apartment? Did the designer give Cat the wrong one to hold on to when they were packing up?

  She shifts. “There might’ve been a slight miscommunication.”

  Cat comes up beside me and stares at the dress. I mean, come on. It’s more like floor-length lingerie.

  “Motherfucker,” she says. “Where did you get that?”

  “Aiden told me Gemma wanted this—”

  Cat waves off her words, then pauses. “Wait, you brought this?”

  “Yes, he— He asked, and I didn
’t know it wasn’t what you wanted. I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your wedding, haven’t I? I haven’t made a mistake this bad…” She’s flustered. She fans herself, looking like she’s about to hurl.

  And then I turn to Cat, my eyebrows raised. If Cat wasn’t in on this switch, then maybe…

  My friend points across the apartment, to the stairs going up to the bedroom. She had hooked the garment bag of the correct dress around one of the rails to keep it off the floor.

  “Holy shit.” I laugh, bending over. “I thought I was going to have to walk down the aisle in that.” I can’t catch my breath.

  Everything I’ve been holding back bursts through me as laughter. I laugh until tears fill my eyes, but if Magenta is upset, I don’t notice. I only stop when my stomach cramps, and the apartment fades into silence.

  “You feel better?”

  I straighten and lift my shoulder. “Marginally.”

  “Great, because we need to leave in less than an hour. Time to get dressed, then I need to figure out what to do with myself.”

  The designer is pale. “Gemma, I am so—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, touching her arm. “I don’t know what he said, but he probably has his reasons.”

  Dark and lustful reasons, maybe.

  Nothing good.

  I shove away any thoughts along those lines and move swiftly to the dress. The women follow me upstairs, into the bedroom—it’s still not really mine. They help me into it, smoothing the skirt and adjusting my hair. Magenta touches up my makeup and lipstick.

  “Okay,” she says. “You’re ready.”

  “Wait,” Cat blurts out. She retrieves the envelope and two boxes, putting all three items in my hands. “Look at yourself and open those, and then come down when you’re ready.”

  I still haven’t seen myself.

  Cat pulls the sheet off the floor-length mirror in the closet, then they all file out.

  I close the door behind them and let out a long breath.

  It’s hard to breathe through all my emotions, and sifting through them is even more difficult. Like I’m excited, nervous, and horribly anxious. It’s ridiculous, really. I tried on the dress and stared at myself in it. I know what it looks like on my body.

  But with the hair and makeup…

  A lump forms in my throat.

  The bodice is fitted with a sweetheart neckline, held up by two thin straps. It flares out into a full skirt at my waist, and it swishes when I move. The starched white satin is covered in a delicate layer of lace. I rotate slightly, revealing the lace that opens up in a large keyhole that leaves most of my upper back bare.

  The road rash from our motorcycle crash stands out, but no one said anything about it. Maybe Aiden forewarned them. Still, I touch the healing skin and wince. It’s only just starting to scab over.

  My sandals are heelless, but I can’t help but feel off-balance. Like my center of gravity has shifted away from me.

  I set down the two boxes and slide my finger under the envelope’s seal. It only says my name on the front. For a moment, my breath catches. I always dreamed that my mother would write me a letter for my wedding day. That somehow she could’ve predicted her death and prepared for this eventuality.

  Me continuing to live without her.

  But then I fully slide the folded paper out, and I realize it wasn’t her—it’s from Aiden. My gaze skips down to his signature at the bottom of the page, and I press my finger into the ink.

  Gemma,

  I thought you might be needing your something old, new, borrowed, and blue. The wedding dress is new, of course. My wedding gift to you is the remaining three. I hope they’re satisfactory.

  Now is the time to come clean, and I hate that I’m writing this down instead of saying it to your face. Part of me hopes you won’t read this, that you’ll go straight for the boxes and ignore this… but you’re too smart for that.

  Your father and I had an agreement.

  My heart stops working.

  We were hunting your family, and you weren’t retaliating on the same scale—nothing was provoking them into the war our family craved. It was skirmishes like the men who hit our bike: quick, guerilla warfare attacks. Bloodshed. West blood was filling the streets, and it was only a matter of time before something truly awful happened.

  Before your family decided to meet ours with matched fury.

  Your father saw this coming.

  Say what you will about Lawrence West, but he was calm and calculating even in the midst of chaos. Something my father will never understand—but I think you do.

  He asked me what it would take to keep you safe. You weren’t going to flee town with the rest of the women. Apparently, you made that clear, and he respected it.

  But that still left you in danger, with a massive target on your back.

  I told him I would marry you. Make you mine. Make you a DeSantis, protect you from those who would wish you harm. Save you.

  I sniffle. Dad… Dad never conspired with me to save the family—he conspired with Aiden freaking DeSantis to save me. I can’t keep my emotions in check, and my mind wanders to the last few conversations I had with him before I settled in at Aunt Mary’s house to wait.

  Please don’t be upset with him, princess. He was out of his mind with worry. I confess: I was, too. I was worried you’d do something reckless.

  I was worried you’d be killed.

  Today isn’t going against your father’s wishes. Today you’re honoring the path he wanted you to walk. Today, you’ll make me the happiest man alive.

  I won’t apologize for my decisions. I won’t apologize for the way your father guided you into thinking you were a sacrifice. You were never the lamb being led to slaughter, like I fear you once thought.

  Chin up, my love. Today might feel like the end of the world, but I promise you it isn’t. It’s a beginning.

  Aiden

  I set down the note and take stock of myself.

  Emotions?

  Numb.

  Makeup?

  Normal.

  Dress?

  Perfect.

  I turn my attention to the first box, the bigger of the two, and lift the lid.

  My knife sits nestled in the box. I pull it out and flip it in my palm. It’s been cleaned and sharpened from the look of it. No trace of blood. That’s neither borrowed nor blue, although I suppose it could be old. The blue, though, is the sheath that rests below it. It’s soft, dark-brown leather inlaid with turquoise. It has four slits for straps to slide through.

  I gather my skirt and quickly attach the holster to my upper thigh, then slide the knife in. It lays perfectly on my skin and is invisible when I drop the tulle back over it.

  The second box is smaller, and I crack it open slower. My stomach immediately knots, and I cover my mouth.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper.

  It’s the old. The true, intended something old.

  My mother’s engagement ring.

  I sink to my knees and cradle the box in my palms, unable to even pick up the ring. I almost don’t want to touch it, because memories of my mother letting me try it on as a little girl burns bright behind my eyes. I used to dance around the house with it on my thumb, pretending Prince Charming was going to swoop down and carry me off.

  Into my Happily Ever After.

  I close the box with a snap and shudder.

  Mom’s not here.

  Dad’s not here.

  How the fuck did Aiden get this?

  Unless… Unless Dad gave it to him when they agreed Aiden would marry me. And Aiden’s been holding on to Mom’s ring for weeks, probably keeping it in his gun safe—the one place I failed to gain access to in this miserable apartment.

  I carefully open it again and stare at the glistening diamond.

  There’s a tiny, folded piece of paper pressed to the lid of the box. Pain and apprehension sweep through me. If that is a note from my mother, I’m not ready to read it. Not after Ai
den’s confession. I remove the ring and slide it onto my left hand. Fourth finger.

  It fits perfectly.

  Like it was meant to be.

  But… that’s it. Nothing borrowed, unless Aiden meant the knife was borrowed… and is now being returned.

  I roll my shoulders and shake out my arms. The diamond catches the light, and I have to pause and stare at it again.

  Dad had it. I specifically asked for it after she died, desperate for some piece of her to keep me tethered to my memories, but he refused.

  “Okay,” I tell myself. I rise and lift my chin. “You can do this.”

  It’s just a day. A moment. A kiss.

  26

  Gemma

  “Ready,” I call to Cat. “That was more emotional than I was expecting…”

  Amelie waits for me at the foot of the stairs.

  I blink a few times, not entirely convinced I’m not hallucinating, and her grin only widens. She seems so much better than the last time I saw her—no more haunted look in her gaze, tan. Happy.

  “What the hell?” I shriek, coming to my senses and rushing down the stairs.

  We’ve spoken a handful of times, but I feel like this girl is basically my sister. I throw my arms around her, and she hugs me back tightly. We rock side to side for a moment, and I let myself relax in her embrace.

  “I could not miss this,” she says. “Not for the world. You look stunning.”

  I snort and step back, then glance around before I say something I shouldn’t. But I don’t have to worry—Cat and the others are gone.

  “I sent them to wait in the hall. Nosy bitches.” She gestures for me to follow her over to the couch. “Aiden told me you needed something borrowed. And luckily for us, I splurged on accessories on my official wedding.”

  “Really,” I say. “So that’s how it turned out? You run away to Italy and then end up remarrying him?”

  She rubs her temple. “Yep. He won me back over, although technically I just married him—we weren’t married in the first place. He saw the error of his ways, spent weeks apologizing… Speaking of.”

  She motions with her finger for me to twirl, and I oblige her.