The sheets are presented in front of my capos, soldiers, and a smattering of family and friends at just past ten a.m. in one of the rooms on the ground floor of the hotel. My sisters and my mother are missing, but Nonna is there, as well as a few other old crones who feel it is their duty to ensure the traditions of our family continue to be respected.
Nero comes up beside me. “Should we remove it before Cleo comes out? If someone jokes about it, she’ll probably try to claw their eyes out.”
Unlikely, given it’s my blood everyone is whistling at.
I turn to him. “We’ll take it down in ten minutes.”
“What the fuck happened to your lip?”
Fuck.
I didn’t think the swelling was that obvious when I checked this morning in the mirror.
“We need to have a word. Let’s go talk in the library.”
Nero gives me a curious look. “You all right?”
“Not here.”
He follows me inside. I close the door behind him and lock it for good measure. I don’t want anyone interrupting us. Nero takes one of the leather armchairs, but I don’t feel like sitting. I walk over to the large window facing the back garden and link my hands behind my back.
I didn’t sleep much after I left Cleo in our wedding suite. Thankfully, we rented the entire hotel, so there were more than a few empty suites available. I grabbed the closest one and spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a plan to seduce my wife.
I didn’t get very far.
I’m good at many things, but understanding the psychology of women isn’t one of them. Good thing it’s something my consigliere excels in.
Nero clears his throat. “So…?”
I turn around.
Whatever he sees in my expression makes him laugh. “Seriously, what the fuck happened?
When I stay silent, the amusement in his expression melts away. “Did it go okay?”
“No, it didn’t go okay.”
He frowns. “Is she…hurt?”
I walk over to the bar cart and splash a bit of whiskey into a glass. “I didn’t fuck her. Barely even touched her.”
Nero shakes his head, confused. “Whose blood was that then?”
“Mine.”
Nero stares at me for a split second before he bursts out laughing. “What did I tell you? Did she bite the whole thing off or just give it a nibble?”
“She didn’t get close enough to my cock to even breathe on it.” I point at my face. “She bit my lip.” I take a swig of the whiskey, and it burns the shallow wound inside my mouth. “She sucked my blood and spit it on the sheets.”
“Holy shit.” He’s taken aback. He didn’t expect her to pull something like that. “So what happened after?”
“Nothing. I left. Before she gnawed on me like a fucking piranha, she made it clear she wants nothing to do with me.”
“She’s your wife.”
“She is,” I mutter. “But like you said, that doesn’t mean she likes me.”
Nero blows out a breath. “What are you going to do?”
I take a seat across from him. “You’re my consigliere. I was hoping for a little advice.”
He rubs his jaw. “Sorry, I’m still processing. Maybe she just needs to warm up to you. Take her out to dinner.”
“It’s not going to be that easy. She called me her jailer. She’s determined to hate me.”
Nero looks thoughtful. “She’s got a rebellious spirit. Look how she lied to everyone about not being a virgin just so that she could ruin her father’s plans for her. Now, she’s going to rebel against you.”
I frown at my glass. “Rebelling to what end? What’s done is done, and no amount of rebellion on her part will undo our marriage.”
He shrugs. “Maybe she just wants to feel in control. She chose to marry you in her sister’s place, but since making that choice, she hasn’t had any say in anything. This could be her trying to assert herself, making it clear you won’t get to dictate all of the terms of this marriage.”
“And she’ll do this by denying me her body?”
He nods. “To start. But I suspect it won’t be the end of it. She lost her freedom when she married you. That will take a while for her to process, and I think it’s safe to say she won’t do it quietly.”
My thoughts turn inside my head. “Maybe I can pacify her by giving her an illusion of freedom. She thinks I’ll restrict her even more than her father. I can prove her wrong while still keeping the situation under my control.”
Nero nods. “That’s good. She won’t expect leniency from you. It’ll lower her defenses.”
“But I can’t allow her to do whatever she wants.”
“Give her a leash so long she forgets it even exists. If she crosses any real lines, you’ll have to remind her of it. There’s no way around that. If she can’t come to terms with it, I don’t know how this will work out.”
“She will come to terms with it.” She has to.
“Pick your battles carefully. She’ll want to get a reaction out of you when she acts out, so don’t give it to her unless she’s really pushing it.”
Cleo won’t hold back. She lacks any sort of restraint. “It’s a good thing I’ve had a lot of practice not showing my emotions,” I mutter, dragging my thumb over my sore lip.
Nero knows better than to say it, but I can see the thought reflected in his eyes. I told you so. He crosses his ankle over his knee. “By the way, Joseph Ferraro called this morning. Wanted to offer his congratulations.”
My brows rise. Big Joe is Gino Ferraro’s consigliere. This is the first time someone of his seniority has reached out to us from the Ferraro family in years. “Did he say anything else?”
“Just some small talk, but you know what this means.”
“Big Joe wouldn’t have called without getting Gino’s blessing.”
Nero nods. “It seems like they might be interested in putting this feud behind us once and for all. We should try to arrange a dinner with you, Ferraro, and the wives.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring Cleo to an important meeting. Her presence will significantly increase the risk of bloodshed.”
Nero snickers. “I don’t mean you do it tomorrow. These things take a while to arrange. We’ll do it when things warm up between the two of you.”
I appreciate that he seems to think it’s a matter of when and not if.
I finish the whiskey and rise. “All right, go take down the sheet. I’m tired of everyone staring at my fucking blood.”
Nero slaps me on the back. “One day, you’re going to look back at this moment and laugh.”
He leaves, and when I come out onto the back patio, the post-wedding brunch is in full swing. My wife is sitting at a table with Valentina and De Rossi. De Rossi’s sister, Martina, and her husband, Giorgio, are there as well.
Cleo meets my gaze. For a moment, I debate what to do. It’s clear she wants to spend time with her family, so I shouldn’t drag her away from their table, but at the same time, I have no desire to sit anywhere but beside her. And I sure as fuck don’t plan on letting her forget how her body responds to me.
I start toward them, and Cleo’s eyes narrow in warning. I ignore it. When I’m just a few feet away, she rises from her seat, and I’m treated to a full view of her body.
Fuck.
She’s wearing a silky slip dress that molds to her breasts and hugs her hips. That dress would look even better in a puddle on my bedroom floor.
Cleo’s mouth parts. “Raf—”
Before she can finish her sentence, I slip my arm around her waist and silence her with a kiss. She gasps against my mouth, clearly taken aback.
Better get used to this, sweetheart.
I’ll wait to fuck her, but she’s going to have to come to terms with giving me that mouth whenever the fuck I want.
She makes a low sound of protest. Her palms press uselessly against my chest before she curls them into fists. I slip my tongue past her lips and pull her even closer, ignoring the dull throb of pain inside my mouth.
I’m half expecting her to start bucking against me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she grows very still, and when I open my eyes, she’s looking right back at me. I break the kiss but hold her close to me. She’s panting, her breaths coming out in small puffs against my lips.
“I hope you’ve been pretending you’re as sore as your bloody artwork would imply.” My voice is low enough so that only she can hear it.
Her green eyes narrow. “Let go of me.”
I do, but not before I stroke her bare upper back with the pads of my fingertips. She shivers. Her body’s involuntary reaction makes her glare at me and blush.
I take the seat beside her and throw my arm around the back of her chair. “Good afternoon,” I say to the rest of the table, letting the tips of my fingers brush over Cleo’s shoulder.
Her sister frowns at me, and De Rossi shoots me a dark look.
“We should talk business before we leave,” he says. “Given what happened with Gemma, I’d like to propose some changes to our partnership with Garzolo. I have no desire to do business with a man who’s harmed my wife’s sister.”
I nod. He wants to cut Garzolo out of our counterfeits deal? Fine by me.
“We can talk after brunch,” I say.
I should spend the rest of this brunch thinking through how I want to approach that impending conversation, but instead, my awareness stays firmly on my wife. And every time my fingertips brush over her flawless skin, I notice her breath hitch.
