Chapter 11
Mia
I like my husband.
The thought hits me like a punch to the stomach, chest, face…everywhere.
Has Santino hypnotized me? Brainwashed me?
I was angry at him not too long ago, yet here I am, holding his hand as we walk back through the magical gardens to our wedding reception after we kissed each other like we were on fire and the other’s mouth was the only way to smother the flames. And that was after I told him about my mom, which is a topic I’ve never talked about or told anyone about before.
Am I in an alternate universe?
Too much is swirling inside me and I can’t think straight when he’s touching me. Hell, his voice and simply being near me is enough to unhinge me.
I try to pull my hand away from his when we reach the patio and I see there are people from the reception outside getting some air, but Santino isn’t having it.
“Don’t,”
he scolds, squeezing my hand. He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles gently like he did during the ceremony. “It’s okay to show people you like your husband.”
“Or pretending to,”
I counter, to which he growls in response.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, farfalla. But there’s no pretending or faking how you react to me. I know, Mia.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek, and then that spot below my ear that sends a shiver down my spine and has heat pooling in my core. “I know,” he repeats.
My brain ceases to work to come up with a good response, so I focus on keeping my breathing even and not stumbling in my heels as we continue to walk across the patio and back inside the venue.
“It’s time to cut the cake!”
our wedding planner says urgently. “I was worried you two had left early, but was informed you were seen headed out into the gardens. I’m just glad you’re back in time.”
“I wouldn’t want to mess up your schedule, Janine,”
I say with a sweet smile despite my annoyance. If I wanted to leave my wedding early, then I could damn-well leave my wedding early.
Janine takes a deep breath and pulls her shoulders back. “I’m sorry. I just received a lot of questions about your whereabouts from both of your mothers and then your brothers,”
she directs at me. “I’ll have the band announce the cutting of the cake after their next song.” Turning on her heel, she signals the band and then makes her way to the kitchen.
“Where did you two go off to?”
Nico asks, walking up to us with his arm slung around Cassie.
“Admiring the gardens,”
Santino answers cooly.
Nico lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips, but pauses when his eyes spot my hand in Santino’s. “That better be all you were admiring.”
“Nico,”
Cassie warns, sliding her hand up his chest. “It’s their wedding day. I’m sure Mia just needed some fresh air to relax and clear her head. It’s been an overwhelming day with all eyes on her.” Cassie throws me a quick wink to show me she’s got my back.
“Mia should be used to having everyone’s eyes on her wherever she goes with how beautiful she is,”
Santino says smoothly, his voice soothing all my nerves.
Nico rolls his eyes and Cassie grins from ear-to-ear. “Let’s go sit, Nico. They’re clearly okay.”
I give my brother a small, reassuring smile, and Santino squeezes my hand as they walk away.
“What did he think I was going to do? Steal you away in the middle of our wedding reception, never for you to be seen again? Or steal you away to try to fuck you five seconds after getting my ring on your finger?”
“Probably.”
I shrug, and Santino laughs, surprising me. I openly gape at his handsome face as it morphed from serious and chiseled to open and boyish.
Damn it, I like both versions of him.
“Let me introduce you to my brothers. But I have to warn you, Alberto offered to marry you instead of me just this morning, so he might say something stupid.”
“What? Why?”
“He told me I’m an old man who wouldn’t know how to handle your youth and innocence. He thinks I don’t have much to offer you.”
“Do you agree with him?”
“No,”
he scoffs. “My brothers don’t know me like they think they do.”
I have so many questions I want to ask him, but hold them in as he walks us over to his brothers. “Emilio and Alberto, I would like to formally introduce you to my wife, Mia Antonucci.”
I can’t deny the shot of pleasure that spears me at the sound of my new name when he says it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,”
Emilio says, taking my free hand and kissing the back of it.
Santino growls his displeasure, but his brother’s touch and kiss doesn’t elicit a reaction the way his does. “You as well.”
“If our brother gets too boring for you in his advanced age, let me know and I’ll take you out for a good time,”
Alberto says, taking my hand from Emilio and kissing it, too. “And you can call me Albie. All my friends and family do.”
I sense Santino tense and know he wants to say something to his brothers, but I squeeze his hand and beat him to it. “That’s nice of you to offer, but Santino has already proven to be far from boring. However, I’ll let you know if that changes.”
Emilio and Albie laugh. “Welcome to the family, Mia,”
Emilio says with a huge grin.
“Thank you.”
I smile back, then peer up at Santino who’s looking down at me with that stern and chiseled look back on his face. My smile fades and I want to ask him what’s wrong, but that’s the moment the band announces that it’s time to cut the cake, so I don’t get the chance.
Standing behind me, Santino covers my hand with his and we cut through the bottom tier of the cake.
“Did you know this part of the ceremony symbolizes our unity and strength coming together and us completing our first task together in our new life?”
he whispers in my ear. “And when I feed you this bite,” he continues, murmuring so only I can hear him as he breaks off the end of the slice we just cut and holds it up to my lips, “it symbolizes my first act of providing for you. Keeping you full in all ways will be an honor, my wife.” He smiles and winks, so I make sure to swirl my tongue around his fingertips to get all the buttercream off, and his smile falters while his eyes heat.
Feeling bold, I lick my lips and throw him a wink before I feed him a piece of cake. He doesn’t get the chance to tease me back, though, because I pull my hand away the moment he bites into the cake and suck on my thumb and forefinger to clean them off.
His eyes turn molten. “You like playing with fire, don’t you?”
I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’ve never been let out to play before, so I don’t know.”
“Fucking Christ,”
Santino grumbles, and a giggle bubbles out of me that has his eyes heating further.
The band starts to play another song as the cake is wheeled back into the kitchen to be cut, and Santino takes the opportunity to insist I dance with him.
“I think I need to sit down,”
I counter. I don’t think I can handle having his arms around me again right now. Not after the kiss in the garden.
Today is not going how I thought it would and it’s confusing. My hatred for Santino is waning every second longer I’m near him, and I’m afraid for the day when I may not hate him anymore.