Chapter 8
Some girls are born to live like queens in fairytales, and some are born to fight the monsters that live in them. - The Heart Speaks
Mischa
W hile we were being shot at, all I could think about was if we were going to make it out alive. Once we were inside the Estate, my concern switched immediately to Papa and if I was ever going to see him again. I was terrified, knowing he was left behind in the middle of a shoot-out. Thankfully, we all survived, and I woke up thinking we’d have the next few months to get to know the Vendetti family before our weddings. I was delusional, it appears, as our plans were thrown into a tailspin. Our wedding date has changed from three months to three days, and it’s not even a true three days! They decided this last night after I’d left Papa’s room, and they counted it as the first day.
Pushy Italians. I wasn’t even consulted on my thoughts and feelings!
I’ve got two days left until my last name changes forever, and it has my mind spinning. I found out about the change first thing when I went to check on Papa. I had to make sure he made it through the night without any problems, and he’s still okay. He assured me he’s fine, but I can’t help to worry over him. With my mother gone, having passed a few years back from an unexpected brain aneurysm, it’s made me extra protective over him.
“Mischa,” I’m drawn out of my thoughts by Violet. I’m surrounded by her and the other wives as I attempt to eat the brunch that was offered in the breakfast room. The space is full of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the back gardens and features a large round table. It’s far more relaxed compared to dinner but nonetheless opulent in its own way. We may be ‘roughing it’ in the breakfast room, but there’s still a massive crystal chandelier sparkling above us, reminding me just how vast their wealth truly is. This is no lowly organized crime family but the top tier of the Italian Mafia.
The blood from last night has been washed away outside. In its place is everyone acting as if nothing happened in the first place, and this is another day of planning. I’m trying to hold it together, but after witnessing my father’s men bleeding out in the car with us, I’m still a touch distracted.
“Yes? What did you say?”
“Do you have a favorite color you want incorporated? The usual small businesses we employ are limited on short notice, but they’ll do their best to accommodate.”
“I was mostly concerned about the dress and who would design it. I thought we’d plan the wedding around it after we had a mockup,” I admit. “But that was also before everything suddenly changed.”
“We all had quick weddings, and believe me, I understand you being overwhelmed more than anyone else. I didn’t choose anything for mine, my mother did. The only way I could show a tiny piece of myself in any of it was with the lipstick I chose.”
“Those reds can be tricky,” I smirk, thinking about the vanity full of makeup I left behind, and since I won’t be returning, I’ll have to replace everything now. At least I’ll have plenty of time on my hands to shop as I acclimate to my new life here. I’m sure my husband will be busy most days being a soldier for the family.
“I wore blue,” she admits seriously, and my mouth turns down. I don’t remember it from her wedding photos, although now that I think of it, they were taken from behind or to the side. They showed the back of her gown and long, dark hair, or the side profile of her husband’s face, but never hers. Now that I’m thinking back to it, they must’ve purposely kept her identity away from the media for as long as they could.
“You wore blue lipstick to your wedding?” I’m staring at her like she’s crazy, and all she does is nod, lips turned into a smirk.
“Maybe you should wear green as a direct message to whoever sent those men to kill us last night.” She plants the seed, and that’s all I can think of. Green to taunt the Irish. I fucking love it.
“Mint green and black,” I find myself murmuring. “I want a mint green full lace gown.”
The ladies around the table flash wide, approving smiles. “Now we’re talking,” Annabelle chimes in. “We could all wear black, aside from the newlyweds. It’ll definitely make a statement, a loud one.”
“Sì,” Arianna nods, excitement sparkling in her eyes.
I turn back to Violet, who wears her serious expression once again as she makes notes on a small tablet. “What do you think? Could we make it happen?”
Her nails click against the table as her stare takes me in for a beat. Then she flashes a bright smile, “We’re so doing this.” Our excited cheers make the servant refilling the buffet table jump in surprise. Violet laughs and calls out an apology before saying, “I’m texting Luciano right now so he can contact the boutiques and find some options.” Her fingers fly over her phone as she relays the message.
“Why him?”
“Because you’ll be going with him to shop. He knows the best places in the city and can keep you safe. Make sure you grab other items you’ll need until we can get your belongings from Russia.”
“Okay,” I easily agree.
I’m still a little embarrassed about our dinner activities. He had me suck him off in the hallway, and while I’ll admit it was hot and turned me on, I’m not sure how he’ll act in the future. He seemed a touch jealous to find me and Santino leaving the bathroom, but the real question is if it was over me or over Santino? I haven’t seen my brother since he walked me to Santino’s room, and I fell asleep waiting for him to get out of the shower so we could talk, or else I’d ask if he was able to get a read on Luciano. I’d text him, but our phones were left behind in the car, and according to Papa, the car was moved somewhere else on the property.
“What about Rorik? Has he given you his colors or details? My brother can be very particular when it comes to certain things.”
“I asked him, and he told me to go with whatever you choose. He cares about you so much and wants to make sure the day is more about you than him.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “Stubborn. Of course, he would pull this knowing he wasn’t going to be here to argue with me. Out of the two of us, he’s pickier than I am.”
The ladies grin, then Violet switches subjects. “Matteo just texted. The doctor is ready for you.” At her words, suddenly no one can meet my gaze.
“Okay? Is this about Papa? I spoke to him last night.”
“No. This visit is for your health exam. Heirs are part of the Blood Oath contract your father signed. Afterwards, you will go shopping.”
“Right.” I clear my throat, getting to my feet. “Thank you for breakfast; it was lovely seeing you all again, and thank you for your help with the wedding. It’d be a disaster if I were trying to do this myself.”
Violet stands, walking me to the door where Santino and Luciano wait for me. “It’s my pleasure. If you’re unsure about anything, remind yourself that you will be the fifth Vendetti wife, and there are four of us who have gone through it. In this famiglia, we’re the closest friends we have to each other, and you are now a part of that too. Please talk to us if you want to, about anything.”
I can’t stop myself from leaning in and gently hugging her. It’s the kindest anyone has been since I’ve arrived. Growing up in the life of the Bratva, under my father’s shadow in the underground criminal world, these women actually have an understanding of what the pressure and danger are like being us. “Thank you, Violet. You’ve shown my family nothing but kindness since we’ve arrived; I hope I’m a good addition to your family.”
She offers a small smile. “I have no doubt. Enjoy shopping, and don’t forget to pick out some extra stuff for the week.”
“Poco zucchero,” Santino greets, his gaze warming as it takes me in from top to bottom. “You look edible.” He pulls me to him, breathing deeply when he briefly holds me.
“Did you just sniff me?”
His eyes shine with a playfulness I haven’t seen before. “Sì.” He nods at Violet, saying, “Grazie, Vi.” She shakes her head at both the guys, smirking before leaving us alone.
Luciano grabs one of my hands, bringing it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “Ready to spend the afternoon with me, bambola?”
“I thought I had an exam of some kind?”
The guys flash each other an unreadable look before Santino cuts in, “You will, but he was called away on an emergency.”
“So we’re leaving now?” I stroll beside them down the hallway opposite from the breakfast room.
“Sì. Tell Santy bye. You’re mine for the afternoon.”
Santino leans in, wrapping his arm around my waist to tug me to him tightly. His lips meet mine for a brief, hard kiss. It’s possessive, and it makes me wonder if it’s for my benefit or because he’s jealous Luciano gets to spend the day with me and he doesn’t. He says a swift goodbye, being called elsewhere.
Since the exam gets rescheduled due to some random emergency the doctor has, in no time, I’m at Luciano’s side, knee-deep in wedding dresses. He’d called right before we arrived and ordered the owner to close and lock up the store we were in, as well as the one next door. We pulled into the alley at the back of the building with six of the Vendetti’s men loaded to the nines for added protection. The two SUVs didn’t blend in much, but anyone with an ounce of sense would know not to go near them. Two guys stayed behind, warming the driver’s seats, while the other four flanked us like we were royalty. I’m used to some form of protection because of Papa, but this feels so much more formal. Santino already promised to get a helicopter over here with more men if we are attacked. This is all next level and has me seeking out alcohol as soon as I see the champagne bottle being popped open.
After God knows how long, I find my patience growing thin. “More dresses?” I huff. “You’re worse than my brother,” I mutter after I’ve tried on what must be thirty different styles and colors. Each time I open the changing room curtain to show the bossy Vendetti lounging on the fancy gold-trimmed couch, he growls no at me and shoos me away with a flick of his hand. I’m ready to act like the printsessa he taunts me as and stomp my feet, then demand we head back to the Vendetti Estate so I can soak in a tub.
Tossing the rest of my champagne back, I set the flute down on the small table taking up the corner of the oversized dressing room and attempt to stuff my curves into the next lacy get- up. The owner of the shop told me if we stick with a bright white lace, then we can dip it to get the mint color I want. She about lost her mind when I explained the dress must be mint green. Thank God Luciano had the sense to tell her to dye the dress to give me what I want so quickly. The poor woman was seriously freaking out over upsetting the Vendettis by not giving me something I’d be happy with.
I wheeze, out of breath from wiggling around. “It’s too tight. I can’t get it unzipped all the way. The lace is going to suffocate me; we should just burn it.” By me, I mean my boobs. The girls will be stuffed in so much they’ll come up to my freaking chin like in the historical romances I’ve read. “I want a satin or silk underlay so it’s softer. We seriously have to stick to this liner under the lace?” I continue to complain.
The curtain jerks to the side, stunning me into shocked silence. I meet Luciano’s fuming gaze, his cheeks red with irritation. He storms toward me, his hands grabbing the back of the dress. A gasp spills from me as he wrenches me back and forth and rips the dress apart, yanking it down until it’s resting underneath my exposed breasts.
“Better?” he hisses, just as breathless as I am. He twists the back material together tight enough I can’t move my arms out of the holes to get the dress off my upper body completely before jerking me to the side of the chair in the opposite corner that faces the wall of mirrors. He shoves me forward with the hand at my back while the other works at the button and zipper on his slacks.
My mouth pops open, “W-what are you doing? Have you lost your mind? You just ruined this dress!”
“You have an attitude problem that needs fixing.”
“Fuck off! You try going through this dress hell and tell me you wouldn’t be pissy too after the hundredth no .”
He has me pinned over the arm of the supersized chair and tosses the fluffy skirt up over my hips. My cheek rests on the seat cushion, my gaze watching everything he’s doing in the mirrors. A cool gust of air hits my butt and thighs, making me squirm. I squeak when his slap hits my butt. The mafioso just spanked me!
“These panties should be illegal,” he growls, tugging them just under my butt, using them to keep my thighs clenched together. I draw in a deep breath, opening my mouth to give him some sass when he shuts me right up with the tip of his cock. My pussy greedily sucks at the thick, blunt head, wanting to be filled. “You’re already soaking my cock. You know who you belong to, don’t you? I bet Santy tore this pretty, smooth cunt up last night, didn’t he?”
I know he wants an answer, but what do I say? His brother hasn’t fucked me yet. Will he be mad? “H-he hasn’t,” I admit as much in a whisper. His hand on my hip tightens, rooting me in place as he slams all the way home.
“No? Oh, naughty, naughty bambola, are you in for it. I’m going to breed this pussy before mio fratello has even had a chance to feel the clench of your eager pussy on his cock. I can’t wait to see his face when I tell him you’ve taken my cum first, that you may grow big and round with mio bambino before his.” He chuckles, the sound deep and evil, making me shiver. It’s like a dark caress, stroking me in all the perfect places.
“Please don’t tell him,” I beg, and it sets him off. He pounds into me over and over, spanking the sides of my ass and thighs while he does, and I know the front of my legs as well as my butt will have bruises for the next week because of how turned on he is. It only serves to drive me crazy for him, squirming and mewling to let him know how good he feels inside me. He’s big. Experienced. Knows how to move his hips and control me until I’m dizzy with lust over him and how divine he feels wrecking me.
“Oh, he’ll know alright. I’m going to fill you up with so much cum he’ll have no choice but to know where I’ve been. First.”
“Luciano,” I whimper his name.
His hand leaves my hip; he stuffs it in his slacks pocket, pulling something shiny out. “Suck on this; I want it warm and wet, capisci?”
With a nod, I open my mouth. He pushes the metal object inside, and I comply, allowing my saliva to soak it and warm it. I don’t know what it is or what he’s going to do with it, but he absolutely has my mind racing with possibilities. His hand returns to my hip, sliding over the front until his fingers find my clit. His fingertips toy with my sensitive bud, flicking it between them until I’m moaning around the metal, trying not to open my mouth and spit it out. It only drives him on to move faster until tears are leaking down my cheeks as stars paint my vision. The orgasm’s intense and exactly what I needed. He was right, and I don’t know if I love or hate the fact he knew me better than I did myself in this instance.
His cock throbs, growing impossibly bigger, driving my pleasure on. Just when I’m ready to plead with him that I can’t take anymore, he explodes. His hot cum soothes my overstimulated pussy as he pumps drop after drop until I can feel it spilling out of me. All I can manage to do is stay in place, attempting to catch my breath while my overstimulated senses fire all around me.
He pulls free, and I open my eyes, not realizing I’d ever closed them in the first place. I meet his stare in the mirror as he leans forward, watching me the entire time. His hand moves to rub my lower abdomen under the dress with his cum-covered fingers as he murmurs, “You’re leaking my cum out of your tight hole, and we can’t have that. If you don’t learn to keep my cum inside you, I’ll tie you down in my office and turn you into our fucking breeding cow.” At his twisted promise, his touch leaves my stomach to yank the metal from my mouth. With a growl, he pushes it into my pussy, more of his cum spilling out of me around it.
I’m panting, mind spinning from the orgasm and his filthy words. I’ve never had a man speak to me before like he just did. Why does it turn me on so much and not make me furious? A fucking breeding cow? His nerve is unmatched, and I can’t stop myself from momentarily imagining what that situation could look like.
“Capisci?” he demands, pulling me to my feet and shaking me from my current thoughts. His free hand reaches around to cup and squeeze my heavy breast. His thumb flicks over my nipple, and I clench around the smooth metal egg-shaped stopper currently plugging my pussy.
I’m wobbly. Roughly and thoroughly fucked. All I can do is nod. Luciano’s cocked me into sated silence. His cheeks are still ruddy, but now I see what I missed when he came in here. He wasn’t angry; he was turned on, and it’s unbelievably sexy on him. It’s a heady, powerful feeling, knowing I’m the one to have put him into that state.
He plucks at my stiff nipple, sending a zing to my pussy, and it spasms hard enough that I cry out, giving him his answer. His hand leaves my breast, moving to my neck, lightly squeezing. His hand is so big it covers the front of my throat, making me swallow at the sight. He sees the power reflected in my eyes and is reminding me he’s in control right now.
“Good. Now, go with the lace sheath dress. The one with the deep V in the front so we can see your cleavage. It’ll be dipped for the correct coloring, and we’ll add a thin ebony velvet bow belt at the smallest part of your waist. It’ll be classy, sexy, and scream custom. You’re Vendetti now, and the entire world will know it. Save the princessa get-up for the after-party.”
I want to hate him for telling me what to do, but I can’t stop thinking about him fucking me again.