“I didn’t think we’d do the husband and wife thing behind closed doors.”
He stands tall, in front of the largest bed I’ve ever laid eyes on, and folds up the sleeves of his white button-up. I eye the man who just declared himself my future husband, my thighs tingling, and desire spirals through me harder than with any other man I’ve been in the same room with.
More than Vinny.
More than every crush I had in high school.
I want this man—the man who didn’t give a shit about my life thirty minutes ago. There is seriously something wrong with my brain. Vinny’s stupidity must’ve rubbed off on me.
He smirks, scrubbing a hand over his tan skin. “Sweet Natalia, I don’t fake marry women.”
“Yet that’s exactly what you’re doing with me.”
“You will treat me like your husband, Natalia.” His voice and eyes harden.
I motion back and forth between the two of us. “How long will we keep up this charade?”
“Until I say so.”
“And when we’re done?” The words fall out of my mouth between hard breaths.
“We’ll talk about that then,” he replies with such ease, and I wish I had the peace of mind he did, but his life isn’t on the line like mine.
I gulp. “You can’t kill your wife.”
He advances a step in my direction, and my entire body tenses as he stalls in front of me in the doorway.
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, and shivers run up my spine. “Wrong, sweet Natalia. No one else can kill my wife. No one said anything about me.”
I stare at him, speechless, as he slips past me, leaving me alone in the monster’s den.
CHAPTER 10
CRISTIAN
I walk downstairs to a quiet house.
I only have a few live-in employees. Leona, who’s worked for me for decades and doesn’t come out much. Miriam, my cook and housekeeper, and Gretchen, Miriam’s daughter. Gretchen started only a few months ago after the last girl slit her wrists when Benny told her she was only a good fuck.
My fucking kids.
I’d once thought they were my biggest headaches.
Then, the dark-haired beauty upstairs tiptoed her way into my life.
Benny lives in the other wing of the house, and when Gigi isn’t roaming around the world with my aunt, she has her own area.
Some dons have their men live with them, but I greatly appreciate my privacy. I have around-the-clock employees who guard the gate and two who live in the guesthouse and switch shifts, watching the mansion's perimeter.
I find Rocky in the living room, surrounded by silence while staring straight ahead into a black-screened TV. I whistle for his attention, and he grunts while pushing himself off the couch and onto his feet.
Without my asking but knowing me well enough to understand, he follows me into the office and shuts the door behind him. I pour two glasses of much-deserved bourbon, the glasses clinking together as I hand one over to him. Rocky rests his back against a wall as I swallow down the contents in one swig.
“What’s the plan now, boss?” he asks as I pour myself another.
I shrug. “Looks like I’m getting married.”
Another glass down.
Another drink poured.
I can tell there’s something Rocky wants to say, but he’s hesitant to release the words.
He stares into his drink, searching for words that won’t piss me off.
His voice is thick when he finds them. “I’m concerned about war with the Lombardi family.”
I chuckle. “I’m not.”
I love a good war.
It keeps me young.
Keeps me thriving.
Keeps me king.
“I thought maybe you were considering Carmela …” His voice trails off as if he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence.
Carmela is Rocky’s daughter, the woman I sent to do Natalia’s hair before dinner.
Most men in our business would balk at their daughters fucking a man they’re not married to, but I’m the boss. Rocky was happy when I brought his daughter to my bed and allowed her to suck me off until I came down her throat.
No way would I let a motherfucker even think about Gigi in that way.
That’s why I’ve yet to marry her off like so many men in our family have done to daughters even younger than her. I’m waiting for her to come to me with a selection. My daughter won’t be traded as a business deal.
My son? Yes.
Married or not, Benny will do whatever the fuck he wants.
But there are certain restrictions on Mafia wives, and Gigi would break nearly every single one of them.
But just like Rocky thirsts for becoming my right-hand man, he also aims for me to take Carmela as my wife. I’ve considered it. She does everything I ask with no argument. She sucks dick like a champ and obeys my every word. But as much as I appreciate submission and begging, that power dies when the person surrenders without argument.
I enjoy women with tight pussies who let me take them any way I want. But I also want those women to have a smart mouth and a backbone. Which is why I haven’t remarried after Benita’s death.
That will change.
And I don’t know where Natalia will fit into that mold.
Deep down, I don’t want her to fit into that mold since I don’t plan to keep her for long.
It’s past three in the morning when I return to my bedroom.
I’m not a man who sleeps much.
I acquire what is necessary to keep my body functioning, but there’s too much to be done, too much on my mind, for me to shut my eyes and relax.
The only light comes from a lamp in the corner on the table next to the ottoman. The ottoman that Natalia is curled up on with a book in her hand and a blanket covering her lower half. She drops the book as I shut the door and lock it.
I didn’t give her direction on what to do before I left the bedroom earlier, but I at least expected her to be in my bed … our bed.
Do I feel bad about the Vincent situation? No.
It’s what happens in this world, and she means nothing to me.
And right now, with the way she refuses to pay me a glance, she’s telling me the same thing.
“Why are you over there?” I walk deeper into the room and remove my watch and cuff links, setting them on my nightstand.
“This is where I’m sleeping.”
“All right.”
Where is the Carmela submissiveness when I need it?
I don’t look at her again as I stroll to the bathroom, undress, tuck my Glock into a drawer, and shower. I think of the woman in my bedroom as the steaming water pours down my body. She’s poked at my every nerve the past few days. She became an annoyance, then a headache, and now, she’s a pawn.
It’s a shame, really. Vinny should’ve made her his wife as soon as he could.
I’m sure Vincent wouldn’t allow it, though. Most marriages are chosen via contract—always for the benefit of the family. From the fire in his eyes when he saw me with Natalia, I know Vinny wanted Natalia to be more than his girlfriend, but Vincent wouldn’t allow it.
Vinny probably liked Natalia for the same reason I even considered this marriage charade. She’s gorgeous, and I’m sure, being the spitfire she is, she’s a good fuck.