Bride Unwanted

2. Talon

TALON

My father was supposedto retire years ago. But he’s old school Sicilian. He can’t hand me the business unless I have an heir. I told him a million times that I’m not interested in the women that come around here.

Those girls don’t want me. They want the prestige of being my wife. But I’m old school myself. I don’t want some bitch that’s after power. I want a woman who I can trust, like my old man trusts my mother. My mother wasn’t a part of one of the families. That’s what I want.

Of course, my father, being my father, said fine and had my sister hire some agency that finds matches. He told me I was getting married and producing an heir. We argued. He won. So now I’m standing in a penguin suit about to marry some girl that I’ve never even seen before.

“There. I think it’s finally done.” The tailor’s voice snaps me out of the daydream I was in. I give myself a once over. The suit accentuates my chest and tapers down, giving me that classic V-shape. My father has told me my entire life that a man should take care of his body. That by doing so I would intimidate those with less discipline.

The gym has always been my sanctuary. My body reflects that.

“Let’s go then. Get this over with.”

I head out the door and make my way to the great room where everything has been set up. The agency assured me I would like who they choose. They were thorough. I will give them that. The list of questions they asked seemed to never end.

The lack of people in the room makes me pause for a moment. The only people here to witness my marriage are my father, mother, and the priest. Where is her family? What kind of person has this agency put me together with?

My sister comes through the door and signals that the bride is ready. She comes up the aisle, and I stare daggers at her. But she just smiles at me and stands next to Dad. Infuriating me all the more.

“Are you ready to begin, Mr. Ricci?” the priest asks.

I nod. I can always get this annulled. As soon as I’m done here, it will be straight to the courthouse to dump this woman off. She’ll sign the papers. Even if I have to encourage her a little.

I feel a little better after coming up with this plan. None of this is permanent, not really. My father would be mad. But in the end, he’ll get over it. He has to. My mom only had one boy.

The wedding march starts playing, and I take a deep breath in. None of this is permanent. I remind myself. I close my eyes and breathe. I open them and take a first look at the woman meant to be my wife.

Goddamn. The wedding gown hugs this delicate creature in front of me, accentuating every curve of her body. The classic hourglass makes my cock jump at the sight of her. Swallowing deeply, I remind myself that if I just wanted a pretty face, I could have had that already.

This is a woman who just agreed to marry some man that she doesn’t even know. What could possibly be the reason she would do that? As she moves closer, I can see curls of blonde hair and the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. A mixture of gray and blue that sucks you in like an ocean wave. Makes you want to really study them to see all the colors.

I don’t miss the way her lip quivers, and she doesn’t look me in the eye. She’s scared. I don’t blame her. She must have been told who I am. I can’t imagine what she thinks about me.

This changes something in me. I suddenly feel myself getting angry that she was put in this situation. The annulment would go through. As a consolation, I will make sure she doesn’t want for anything.

I take her hand to help her up to the altar. She finally looks up at me, and I realize how small she is beside me. Looking into her eyes, I kiss her hand.

“Everything will be okay. I promise nothing bad is going to happen.” I barely recognize the words coming from my own lips. This is not something I would usually say, but this situation is anything but normal.

She looks at me for a moment longer, and her shoulders relax. Good, I’m glad she isn’t as afraid of me anymore. I turn to the priest and give him a nod. He addresses the room and says the same words that are said at every wedding I’ve ever been to.

I look down at my soon to be wife. She has an athletic body, the kind you get from working out. Her pussy is probably a vice grip. Having her lay on her back with her legs spread, waiting for me plays over and over in my head. Then turning her over and taking her from behind with hard, slow strokes. Pounding her until I fill her womb with my seed. Grinding my teeth together, I try to get the images out of my head. My eyes focus on her face, and I’m greeted with a concerned look. I’m sure I look like a psycho, grinding my teeth and breathing heavily.

I try my best to smile at her and face the priest, who was asking me if I had a ring. Before I can say anything, my sister hands me a diamond studded wedding band. I take my bride’s hand and put the ring on her finger halfway. Repeating the priest’s words.

She is beautiful. I have to admit. Breeding her is definitely an attractive proposition. As I speak the last words, I put the ring all the way on her finger. Her hand is so soft. She’s so delicate. Like her skin would tear if you rubbed it too hard.

Maybe I could wait a bit longer before taking her to the courthouse. I may as well see if she is interesting or not. Maybe at least find her motive. Her trembling hands try to shove the ring on my finger.

I reached up and shove it down for her. No need for her to struggle. The nervousness returns at my display of roughness. I give her a wink and a smile.

“You may kiss your bride.”

Turning to her, I kiss her deeply. Not because I am overcome, but wanting to see what she will do. Her mouth feels hesitant against mine. Almost like she is torn. I am her husband. But she has no idea who I am.

I break from the kiss to see my father extremely upset, and my sister almost bursting with laughter. I smile down at my wife. Whose name I don’t even know. I was so distracted by thoughts of breeding her that I missed her name during the ceremony.

“All right, kid, you’ve made your point. Now get busy making me a grandfather,” my father scolds.

My bride shrinks back at the comment, which makes me more upset than it should.

“So, what’s your name?” I ask.

“Callie.”

Even her voice is sexy. I exhale loudly.

“I’m Talon. Talon Ricci. Pleased to meet you.” I chuckle.

I may as well have a sense of humor about all of this. Either that or insanity.

“Well, Callie, shall we?” I say, extending an arm.

She looks down at my arm, a look of almost confusion on her face. She must come to some sort of conclusion and accepts the invitation. I lead us to the front door. A limo is waiting outside on the street.

She pauses before climbing into the back seat. Whatever her motivation for doing this is losing the battle to fear. I don’t blame her. Fear is a powerful emotion. I must look like a criminal to her. Or at least not an upstanding citizen.

“I would never hurt a woman, Callie. No matter what you may have heard about my family. We don’t hurt women and children.”

I gently guide her to sit down. Waiting for her to clear her dress from the door, I closed it firmly.

Do I really want to give this woman a chance? The fact I’m not sure of my answer excites me. She’s certainly the first woman that has confused me on that. I go with my gut and decide to give it a try.

Worst-case scenario? I pay her a lot of money to go away. Opening the door, I sit down and loosen my tie. I open the minibar and pour out two shots of Disaronno. Handing her one, I clink our glasses and down mine, not waiting for her to drink hers.

She looks into her glass. Like she is making a wish that this is a dream. She downs the liquor with a funny face. Her wish apparently, not coming true.