15. CHIARA
I’m surrounded by the Romanian Mafia. Every damn member is dressed in five-piece suits while their wives sip red wine in their spectacular gowns, eyeing me with distaste. One thing is for sure, if Killian hadn’t filled me with vodka before making our way here, I probably wouldn’t have the balls to look a single person in the eye.
I knew my Romanian captor was the head of the DeLorenzo family, but hearing it and seeing it are two very different things. The people here—the very ones he calls family—fear him, and it’s clear that Killian DeLorenzo is a wicked man.
He’s callous and cruel, unforgiving and twisted. The things I’ve heard on the news about his family are enough to send me into a blind panic. And yet here I am, standing in the middle of their annual family ball.
I can’t say I’m well educated on the Romanian Mafia, and I don’t recognize a single face, but I imagine that Killian isn’t the only wanted man in the room. There must be at least five hundred people here. It’s probably an FBI agent’s wet dream. I wouldn’t want to be the sorry asshole who decided to bust this party wide open. He would be dead before he even stepped foot inside the building.
The very thought makes my palms sweat. Just the thought of what the men in this room are capable of makes my blood turn to ice.
My hand curls around Killian’s strong arm as he leads me through the room, holding conversations in Romanian, and I can’t even begin to understand what sick deals they are discussing right in front of me. But I do my best to be polite, and whenever he gestures toward me, I give subtle smiles to play my part.
Women stare at me from every corner of the room, and I hate it. I feel like a butterfly with pinned wings, forced under someone’s microscope. They watch me as though having a woman on his arm is unheard of. Their callous stares burn up and down my body with disapproval, comparing me to themselves, and probably wondering what the hell is so special about me. If only they knew how I came to be here. Hell, in this type of company, perhaps my story isn’t as unique as I think. Who knows how many of the women in this room started just like I did. Some poor girl snatched away from her world only to be dazzled by this crazy, glamorous life.
And glamorous it is.
The room is huge, decked out in what I can only assume is the most luxurious Italian marble. Subtle geometric patterns cover the floors, sailing right out to the wide dance floor where a string quartet plays the most hypnotic music.
It’s a scene right out of a Jane Austen film, but absolutely none of it prepares me for the high ceilings and stunning crystal chandelier. The room is a masterpiece. I suck in a breath, needing to hold on to Killian tighter as he leads me through the crowd, far too distracted by the stunning architecture and design of the ballroom.
God, I’m a sucker for good architecture.
The deeper into the room we get, the more people step in to say hello, attempting to get into good favor with the most powerful man in the world. Yet somehow, out of all the women who could have fallen at his feet, he chose me.
The thought has a thrill sailing through my body, and I find myself stepping even closer to his side. I know he probably doesn’t hold any real affection for me, but I feel there’s a possibility here. A possibility for this to be real, for something more to develop.
I feel I could maybe even love him one day.
Shit. I really do have some fucked-up version of Stockholm Syndrome.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m smitten with my captor, but how can I not be? The way he looks, the way he smells, and good God, the way he fucks! I’m not just smitten, I’m completely taken with him. He’s captured me in more ways than he ever bargained for. But something tells me I might have done the same.
Killian was intent on keeping me at arm’s length. I was to keep my mouth shut and bend to his will, but he’s allowed me freedom within his home. He’s allowed me to set my own boundaries and promised to revisit the ones he wasn’t ready for. Hell, he woke up this morning to me sneaking into his bed with the intention to fuck him and allowed me to take what I needed.
He might say we’re not equals, but in my eyes, we’re just about there.
Killian accepts two glasses of champagne from a nearby waitress and gingerly hands one to me as a couple approaches us, and my heart instantly kicks into gear, racing with fear.
Sergiu.
He eyes me with suspicion, the dark secret of what he did to me flashing in his eyes as the woman on his arm throws me a haughty look.
“Ahh, Sergiu,” Killian says with sharp eyes, watching the man closely as I clutch his arm with everything I have. “Salut, cousin.”
They take each other’s wrists before pulling in close and clapping one another on the back. “Salut,” Sergiu responds, still watching me as Killian moves back and steps into the woman, giving her a curt kiss on each cheek, something I’ve seen a lot of tonight.
The woman wears a bored expression as her partner gestures toward me, unaware of the way my whole body shakes. “Do introduce me,” Sergiu says with a hard stare at Killian before shifting his sick gaze back to me. The request sounds friendly, yet his icy stare sends a wave of fear snaking down my spine.
God, when will this end?
Killian’s hand rests over mine on his arm, and I find myself almost folding into him, trying to escape the heaviness of his cousin’s stare. “Sergiu, this is Chiara DeLorenzo, my new bride. You will do well to accept her into the family.”
“Bride?” he sputters, gaping at Killian as my heart stops, my whole body freezing. I’m certain I must have heard him wrong. “Tell me you did not wed this common whore?”
Killian’s hand snaps out so damn fast, I barely see it moving, but damn, there’s no mistaking the sound of his palm smacking across his cousin’s face. “Watch your mouth,” Killian growls, the tone in his voice making me tremble. “The whore you refer to is my wife. My family, our family. You will show respect, or must I remind you what happens to men who disrespect what’s mine?”
Sergiu dips his head, finally dropping his lingering stare away from me, allowing me a false sense of reprieve. But with Killian’s words still circling my head, peace is not something I’m capable of finding. “Of course not, Killian,” he says, taking the smallest step back, trying to be discreet as the woman sneers at me, her gaze now shifting from disgusted to calculated. Sergiu looks back up before fixing me with a kind smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, but I have to give him credit for trying. “On behalf of myself, my wife, Monica, and the DeLorenzo family, we welcome you with open arms.”
Fucking bullshit.
I nod my head, really not knowing what to say when he pats his wife’s hand on his arm. “If you would excuse us. I promised my wife a dance before dinner is served.”
Killian gives a curt nod and watches his cousin as they step away, and once the fear of his proximity has finally faded from my veins, I’m left with nothing to do but gape at the intoxicating man beside me.
Wife?
I know this man is psychotic, callous, and cruel, but is he also deranged? I know we discussed our requirements this afternoon, but I could have sworn the word wife or bride was never brought up in conversation. Surely I would remember that. Though to be fair, I don’t think I remember a single thing after he said I’d be birthing a child within the next two years. I’m still sweating from that revelation.
Noticing my stare, Killian lets out an exasperated breath before fixing me with a heavy stare, though the way his eyes flash lets me know he has all the time in the world for me right now. “What is it now, Chiara?” he questions, leading me deeper into the room, and not allowing me a single moment to melt at the way my name sounds on his skilled tongue.
“Uhhhh . . . Are you kidding me?” I stutter, barely able to meet the intensity of his rich stare. “You just referred to me as your wife. What the hell, Killian? I know we have an . . . odd arrangement, but wife? I don’t remember signing a marriage license. Hell, I don’t remember walking down the aisle in a big-ass poofy dress and vowing to love you in sickness and health either. Though to be fair, you have a tendency to drug me, so who knows what could have happened while I was out cold.”
Killian pulls me in closer and lowers his hand to the small of my back before leading me toward the dance floor and away from prying eyes. “Must everything be so dramatic with you?” he questions, stepping out onto the dance floor, taking my hand, and spinning me out, unaware of the way I tremble being this much closer to Sergiu.
Killian gives a gentle tug, and I come spinning right back, my body pressing up against his as my hand lands on his wide chest, his proximity leaving Sergiu nothing but a distant memory. “As discussed this afternoon, for your own protection and the protection of my family, I cannot allow you to keep your name. So I have decided that you will take mine.”
I gape at him. “As your wife?”
He nods. “You expressed that you were not comfortable being referred to as my property. Is that still true?”
“Yes,” I rush out. “Of course that’s still true. I haven’t changed my mind in the past hour.”
“Then this is what I can offer you,” he tells me, casually leading me around the dance floor as the whispering about our current marital status spreads around the room like wildfire. “As my wife, you will hold a name that will not put my family or business in jeopardy. The world will know you not as my property, but as my spouse. My wife. And while I know we are not there yet, in the eyes of the outside world, that’s exactly what you will be.”
Holy fuck. I take a shaky breath. “I don’t know how marriages work where you’re from, but here in the US, a marriage is a partnership. Equals.”
His movements slow as he focuses on my terrified stare, his arm locking around my waist and holding me to him. “No, Sweet Angel. This marriage is only for the public and to keep your identity concealed. When we are in the confounds of my home, we will continue as originally discussed. Nothing changes. You belong to me, Chiara. I am a powerful man, and I cannot simply give up that power to another. I was not raised that way. Already succumbing to your many requests has been a challenge.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call that succumbing.”
“No?” he questions with an arched brow, his fingers dipping inside the material of my dress and brushing across my lower back. “I do not think you realize just how much pull you have over me.”
I suck in a breath, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat as my heart races erratically. A little over a week ago, my life looked like a sack of shit, and I could have sworn that it would only go downhill from there. But now, Killian DeLorenzo, the most wanted and powerful man in the world, is looking at me as though I hold his whole future in the palm of my hand.
Words escape me, and he spins me around, letting the silk gown flow out around me before pulling me back in, allowing me a small chance to collect myself and process his words. I gaze up at him, feeling the stare of every last person in the room. “I think . . . I would very much like to be your wife, not just in the public eye.”
His face softens as he brushes his fingers down my spine. “You’ve been with me a week, Chiara. You do not understand what it is you are asking.”
“Perhaps not,” I agree. “But I know how I feel, and I know that this electricity between us isn’t something you come by every day. Don’t tell me you can’t feel it.”
“Of course I feel it. From the moment our eyes connected in that warehouse, I could feel a connection to you. Your soul cried out for help, and I’ve been mesmerized since that very moment, but that is no reason to take you as my wife in a world you are not yet familiar with. I know you may not see it this way, but it would be cruel. When I truly make you mine, it will be with your eyes wide open.”
He spins me again, our pace slowing as the words spoken between us start to hold so much weight. “I’m terrified of what this life with you could mean, but at the same time, I’m also terrified that you’ll let me go.”
“I know, Sweet Angel.”
He pulls me back into his chest as my heart continues to race. Somehow, my life has turned into some kind of twisted fairy tale, and all my darkest fantasies have become reality. Only, I don’t get to take home the hero. I get the villain, and it’s ten times more thrilling than having a white knight could ever be. I mean, damn. I doubt a white knight would have the balls to plunge a butt plug so deep in his girl’s ass the first time he touched her.
A sly grin pulls at the corner of my mouth, and I watch the way his eyes spark with excitement. “Just for the record, I’m no sweet angel.”
“Oh, I know. You’re the devil in disguise, and I’m going to enjoy fucking you into submission.”
He dips me low before I get a chance to say a word, and the way he looks down at me so full of desire makes my whole body clench with need. He pulls me back up against him, this time knocking the breath right out of my lungs. “You will stand at my side at the head of my family as my queen, and you will learn to play the role. It will take time, and there will be trials and tribulations, but one day, once you’re fully able to grasp the magnitude of who I am and what I do, you will embrace this new world.”
I stare up at him, absolutely dazzled by this perfectly lethal man. Then before I even get a chance to figure out how to respond, his full lips are crashing down on mine. I sink into him, my eyes fluttering closed as something settles within me.
His tongue delves into my mouth, claiming me as his own, just as he did the very first time I saw him. I was his then, but I can’t help to wonder if he is mine now.
I kiss him back, letting him feel the rush of emotions I’ve felt over the past nine days. The fear, the anxiety, the nerves, the unadulterated passion, and the raw need I feel for him.
The music shifts, and he reluctantly pulls back from me, those dark eyes holding me captive. I can barely breathe; the rush of emotion is almost too much for me to keep up with. My tongue rolls over my bottom lip as I lift my chin, keeping as close as possible. “Did you really mean it when you agreed that I could take you whenever I needed?”
Those dark eyes fill with hunger as his hand bunches into the fabric of my gown. “What did I tell you about being a man of my word?” he growls, his chest rising and falling just a little bit faster.
“Well then. It’s time to put your word to the test,” I purr, letting him see the desire pooling in my eyes. “I need you now, and when I tell you I need it hard and fast, you better come through for me.”
Killian clenches his jaw, his gaze lifting to the crowd around us. “I told you, business is business,” he says, discreetly shaking his head.
A wicked grin stretches across my face. He said I was a devil in disguise, and he’s about to find out just how true that is. “Then I suppose you’re lucky you’re not attending to business. We’re dancing, Killian, not working, and I need you to fuck me right now.”
His eyes flash, realizing I’ve just used and abused one of the best loopholes I’ll ever find. He dips me low, a gasp sailing from between my lips as a ferocious growl tears from his. He kisses me deeply, and being a man of his word, his hand sails straight up the high split of my gown and right between my legs.
He pulls back from our kiss, his eyes sparkling with a wicked excitement, then watching the pure elation on my face, he pushes two thick fingers deep inside my tight cunt, more than ready to rock my world right here in the middle of the dance floor.