Angelo switches off the light before moving me onto my side and lying down behind me. He pushes an arm beneath my pillow, and the other he wraps around me, resting his forearm between my breasts.
His fingers caress my throat, and I feel as he presses a kiss to my hair.
In the darkness, the position feels intimate.
My thoughts are overrun with everything that’s happened tonight. My emotions are all over the place, and I can’t focus on anything long enough to process it.
Now that the afterglow of sex has faded, my fear and confusion have returned full force. Just because he made me feel pleasure doesn’t mean he’s suddenly a different person.
Angelo is still one of the bosses of the Cosa Nostra. He’s still ruthless and violent.
He’s still a stranger.
The sounds in and around the mansion aren’t familiar, and I feel totally out of place lying on the expensive sheets.
Even the pillow feels weird beneath my head.
Angelo lets out a sigh, then his voice rumbles behind me. “What are you thinking about?”
“That I have a lot to get used to,” I admit.
“Like?”
I try to move into a more comfortable position, but then my butt rubs against Angelo’s manhood, and feeling how hard he is, I quickly keep still.
Crap, he asked me a question. What was it again?
I think for a moment, but unable to remember, I ask, “What were we talking about?”
He lets out a chuckle. “One brush of my cock against your ass, and you lose your train of thought.”
My face goes up in flames, and I press it into the pillow.
Angelo pulls me away from my hiding spot and nudges me onto my back. He moves over me, and I have no choice but to open my legs to accommodate him when his weight pushes my body into the mattress.
I’m able to make out his silhouette in the dark as he stares down at me.
“How sore are you?”
My eyebrows fly up, and feeling self-conscious, I whisper, “Down there?”
Bringing his hand to my face, his fingers caress my cheek as he nods.
“Uhm…it’s not bad. Just tender.”
I’ve had periods that were way worse.
I’m not going to lie. It feels uncomfortable having such personal conversations with him.
Suddenly, he pushes his body off mine, and climbing out of bed, he grabs his sweatpants from the floor and puts them on.
Without saying a word, he leaves the room.
I sit up in bed and stare at the doorway.
If he’s going to wear sweatpants, I’m wearing the shirt.
I quickly get off the bed and pick up the T-shirt before walking to the bathroom. I switch on the light and shut the door behind me.
After pulling on the shirt, I quickly relieve my bladder before going to the sink so I can wash my hands. As water runs over my fingers, I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
Spotting red blemishes on my throat, the memory of Angelo sucking and biting my skin flits through my mind.
I turn off the faucet and dry my hands before I lift the shirt and look at my abdomen, hips, and thighs.
Holy crap.
I can clearly see the imprints of his hands on my hips from how tight he held me. But the marks feel different from the ones Giorgio left on me because Angelo didn’t hurt me.
Well, except for when he took my virginity. It hurt a hell of a lot, but I can’t blame him for that.
“Vittoria,” I hear him call.
“Coming.”
I quickly lower the shirt, and when I open the door, it’s to find Angelo right in front of it.
His eyes sweep over me before stopping on the marks he left on my throat, then the corner of his mouth lifts in a proud grin.
His features completely change from deadly to looking hot as hell, and I gawk at him.
Of course, the man doesn’t miss a thing, and as quick as the grin came, it vanishes. With a dark frown, he asks, “Why are you looking at me like I’ve grown two heads?”
I shake my head. “I’m not. You just look different when you smile.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Different?”
I’m not telling this man he looks freaking hot when he smiles.
I clear my throat, then explain, “More relatable.”
He stares at me for a moment, then takes my hand and drops two tablets in my palm. “It’s for the pain. Take them.” He gestures to the bottle of water next to the bed.
There’s a trickle of warmth in my heart because he cares enough to make sure I’m not in pain.
Walking to the bedside table, I twist the cap off and swallow the medication. As I set the bottle down again, I glance at Angelo only to find him watching me like a hawk.
Even though I know I won’t get much sleep, I climb back into bed.
It’s going to take some time getting used to sharing a bed with Angelo Rizzo.
He switches all the lights off before climbing in beside me, and just like earlier, he moves me onto my side and pulls my back against his chest.
He slips his hand beneath the fabric of the shirt, and once again, he rests his forearm between my breasts.
“Sleep, Vittoria,” he murmurs while his arm tightens, and I’m given a hug.
I feel more confused than ever about Angelo because I never thought he could be caring and gentle.
I take a deep breath, and closing my eyes, I try to ignore the seedling of hope spouting in my chest.
Maybe…just maybe, he’ll be a good husband.
After lying awake for most of the night, and only drifting off in the early morning hours, I startle awake.
Prying my eyes open, I glance around the foreign room, and it takes a moment to remember I’m in Angelo’s bedroom.
“God,” I groan as I turn onto my back. My body aches in places that shall not be named.
“Don’t give me that fucking excuse!” Angelo’s voice thunders from outside the bedroom door. “Find the bastard and bring him to me. I want every dime he stole from me.”
I shoot up into a sitting position, and fear trembles through me.
The door opens, and one hell of an angry Angelo stalks inside. His expression is dark and ruthless, his eyes filled with a world of danger.
Crap.
I’m too freaking scared to ask what’s wrong as my cautious gaze takes in the expensive suit he’s already dressed in. It looks like he’s been up for hours. I didn’t even notice when he got out of bed.
He stalks toward me and drops a black credit card on the white covers. With rage darkening his tone, he growls, “Don’t call me for permission every time you want to buy something. There’s no limit on the card.”
My head bobs up and down, and I swallow hard on the fear he makes me feel.
When his gaze locks with mine, he asks, “Where’s your cellphone?”
I quickly shake my head. “I don’t have one.”
A frown on his forehead makes him look scarier. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
I shake my head again. “I haven’t had time to get a new one after my old one broke.”
I feel guilty for the lie.
Giorgio broke my cell phone in a fit of rage, and I don’t have money for a new one.
Angelo mutters something beneath his breath before saying, “Tiny will take you to get a phone. Send me the number the moment you have it.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard before whispering, “Thank you.”
Looking at the ruthless mafia boss, I can’t believe he’s the same man who took my virginity last night.
The seedling of hope I had wilts before turning to ashes in my heart.
I know it’s only a matter of time before I see the real monster. He’ll probably hurt me much worse than Giorgio used to.
Or maybe he won’t.
Angelo stares at me momentarily before he turns around and leaves the bedroom.
I let out a slow breath and only then realize how tense I am from the fear.
Father, I have no idea how I will survive being married to Angelo Rizzo. What were you thinking letting this happen?
I lean forward and pick up the card so I can place it on the bedside table. Once again, I become aware of all the aches in my body as I climb out of bed.
When I straighten the covers, a red stain catches my eye, and I stare at the spot.
I’m torn between the pleasure I experienced last night and the fear of my unknown future in this mansion.
Angelo’s naked body flits through my mind – every muscle and inch of golden skin.
Can you call a man beautiful?
I remember when he entered me.
The pain. The fullness. The connection.
I can still feel him inside me.
Pressing my hand to my heart, I close my eyes and shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts.
Just because he was nice to you last night and made you feel indescribable pleasure, doesn’t mean he’s not still the same bad man as yesterday.
