CHAPTER 15
NATALIA
I’d have given anything for Cristian to let me stay at the gallery. The anxiety from the car ride and from being in this room has knots twisting in my insides.
I’m surprised I can stomach eating.
I probably wouldn’t if the food wasn’t delicious.
The bistecca alla fiorentina is to die for.
Ugh, not die for. The reason I’m here is to prevent myself from dying.
Everyone gawked at me when I walked into the dining room with Cristian. Their gazes were intense, but nowhere near as intense as my future husband’s.
Something about Cristian’s stare sends shivers down your spine.
It’s dark and soulless.
Burning with a certainty that he can either protect or destroy you.
There’s no in-between.
I quietly eat my food, listen to their small conversation, and am thankful when talks of our wedding details stop. Cristian has hardly spoken to me after I proclaimed we’d have a long engagement.
But how was I supposed to know how to answer?
This all has happened so fast, and we’ve yet to discuss anything wedding-related other than that it would happen.
Cristian thinks it’s okay to screw other women if I’m not a dutiful wife.
Yes, that entices me to want to skip right down the aisle with him.
I can’t stop from staring at my sparkling ring every few minutes. Cristian spared no expense when buying a dream engagement ring—a solitaire pear cut diamond that glistens even when I don’t move my hand. Everyone admired my ring when we walked in … except for Carmela, who seemed disgusted that Cristian would gift me—a random woman he hardly knows—a ring so extravagant.
But modesty and Cristian don’t go hand in hand. The monster might hide in the shadows, but when he creeps out, his wealth, power, and superiority are undisputable. His wife should fit the look, and the queen can’t have a mediocre engagement ring.
At least no one else has almost died since we sat down.
Anger poured through Cristian, every muscle in his strong body tense, when he pinned Dino to the wall earlier. I was the only person who seemed surprised at the possibility of Cristian slitting Dino’s throat. Not even Dino’s wife, who honestly seemed a bit tired of his shit anyway, batted an eye.
I don’t know what started their argument, but I have a feeling it was related to me since every man directed their gaze to me when Dino was released.
“More wine, ma’am?” The server’s voice behind me snaps me from my thoughts.
I glance over my shoulder and offer a friendly smile to the woman. “Yes, please.”
She pours my second glass of wine. It’s a stupid move on my part since I plan on returning to the gallery, but I’m attending a Mafia luncheon. All a regular person can do is drink to loosen their nerves.
Helena clears her throat when the servers begin clearing our dishes from the table. “Cristian, Natalia, I know you said you’re working on wedding details, but I’d love to help in any way I can.”
Cristian’s tense arm rubs against mine at his sister’s words, and I’m sure anyone else but his sister would have been terrified to bring up a subject he already closed.
Helena casts a quick glance from Cristian to me. “Italian engagements are short. People will wonder why it’s taking so long.”
“Yes,” Margaret, Cristian’s aunt, adds. “The men don’t like waiting to get their women in bed.”
She winks at Cristian, and my cheeks burn.
Carmela snorts. “Men don’t like waiting because they want to fuck their virginal wives.” She shoots me an icy stare, relaxes in her chair, and lifts her glass in my direction. Her words are slurred from the endless glasses of wine she’s had to wash down her bitterness. “But we all know Natalia has spread her legs for Vinny. Cristian is getting his leftovers, and Natalia is getting mine. Not that he’ll stop sleeping with me.”
The room falls silent.
My face and neck burn, and I draw my shoulders back, straightening my posture. I’ve played the bigger person all day and ignored her, but that decency stops now. I won’t allow her to speak to me or about me that way.
Not only am I humiliated by Carmela’s comment, but a fire of jealousy burns in my stomach.
“Excuse me—” I start, preparing my rant, proud of how strong my voice is.
Cristian raises his hand to stop me from continuing. My gaze skates to him, and he’s staring Carmela down—his gaze a mixture of anger and disgust, as if she’s his next victim. My skin crawls in fear of him ever looking at me like that.
His anger circulates the room, but he’s quiet, contemplating Carmela’s punishment. Carmela stares at me in fear before sliding her gaze to Cristian. Her hand trembles as she lowers her glass back onto the table, spilling it in the process. No one cleans it up.
Cristian nearly killed his cousin earlier, and she thought it’d be a peachy idea to poke the Mafia king?
I guess that little outburst wasn’t planned, and she’s realized her mistake.
I don’t blame her fear. There’s this thing I’ve noticed about Cristian. It’s what makes him scarier than Vinny. He’s a psychopath, but there’s a restraint to his madness. He’s levelheaded in his viciousness. The beautiful, terrifying man beside me can have fury storming through him, but he remains controlled in his own way. He was calm while holding Dino to the wall and in charge of every emotion flowing through him. His every move was methodical.
We silently await the punishment Monster Marchetti will give the daughter of his right-hand man for disrespecting his future wife.
Cristian, slow and composed, drops his napkin onto the table, slides out of his chair, and rises to his feet. I hold in a breath, and a rapid expulsion of air escapes Carmela. She squeezes her eyes shut. Cristian brushes his hand along my shoulder before moving toward Carmela. When he stops behind her, she twitches, as if sensing his presence.
Carmela hisses, her eyes shooting open, when Cristian digs his fingers into her hair. He fists the strands at the roots and forcefully jerks her head back until she’s looking up at him.
“Boss,” Rocky speaks out, but Cristian raises his hand, stopping him how he had done me.
“Carmela was bold enough to disrespect Natalia,” Cristian says. “She needs to suffer the consequences of doing so.”
Rocky’s face turns slack, but he shuts his mouth, like a toddler who’d been told not to speak.
Carmela winces in pain, but you can tell she’s struggling to stay calm.
Cristian’s gaze cuts to me as he speaks to Carmela. “Let’s talk about you, Carmela.” He stabs his fingers deeper into her hair, creating more pain, and her eyes water. “How do you think your future husband—that is, if you find one pathetic enough to marry a disgrace like you—will feel, learning all you’re valued for is sucking dick and letting men degrade you?”
Carmela cries out as he yanks her back harder, but he doesn’t part his gaze from mine, as if gauging my reaction and not caring about anyone else’s.
“And don’t think you’re anything special,” Cristian says through clenched teeth. “I’d never marry a bitch who can’t deep-throat.”