Chapter 2 Sophia
Sophia
I stretch, deliciously satisfied but sore, reaching for Massimo only to find his side of the bed empty where his warm body lay just hours ago. Still, as I draw his pillow to me the smell of him puts me at ease. Raw, masculine and powerful just like the dark-eyed devil himself.
My devil for a year. I should regret saying his name, and for losing the bet, but nothing could be farther from the truth.
Maybe I was lying to myself all the days I held out, or maybe trust was a bridge that was simply too hard to cross after the centuries-long feud between the Rosellis and Cassones, but Massimo proved I can trust him.
What is it they say? The things people do and say when they think people aren’t listening are more important than anything.
He made his family swear to protect not only me but my entire family too, their sworn enemies.
Having no idea that I could hear him, and Massimo did it for me.
And that trust is what allowed me to give in, give over, and let his name spill from my lips in the throes of passion when so many times before the words simply would not come.
Just the thought of spilling his name from my lips and the look in his eyes causes my lower belly to fill with that delicious tingle.
I roll over, snuggling into his pillow, inhaling his scent and try to go back to sleep, happy with things between us, knowing that he’ll come to bed when his work is through and that I need my beauty sleep if I am going to say I do.
The sun spilling over the colorful red, orange, and yellow treetops signals a beautiful fall day for our wedding.
Maybe I should be afraid, or doubtful, or any number of other emotions, but they simply don’t exist. As though my life has never been my own since the dark-haired devil saved me from sure ruin that night at the club.
I only wish Anna could be here on my wedding day, no matter how we got here or why.
It’s for her safety, far better that she stays where she is, under the protection of my father, and the Roselli’s soldiers who Massimo has guarding my dad’s estate.
At least until Desiree’s father, old man Amorte, and his crew have been dealt with.
Old man Amorte should have just left Massimo and Desiree alone, let them go their separate ways, like they wanted. But that wasn’t in the cards.
No, instead he wanted to force Massimo’s hand, the same as Massimo’s own father.
I’ve already learned that no one forces this alpha male’s hand unless he plans to let them force it and that doesn’t look like it’s in the cards.
He’s calling the shots, and he’s going to see this wedding through and make the Roselli soldiers protect everyone important to me, consequences be damned.
But still, just because Massimo put me and my family under Roselli protection, doesn’t mean old man Amorte won’t keep trying to find out what happened to his sons and nephews.
The problem is he already knows why, when he sent them to Massimo’s yacht to kill Massimo for not marrying his daughter, they didn’t return.
The problem is proving it. And he can’t.
At least not right now. And it should be the farthest thing from my mind right now, but it’s a nagging worry that weaves it’s way in and around my nerve endings, refusing to let go.
What if one day they keep digging and find out what really happened, can prove who pulled the trigger, then what?
No, there’s no way they can ever do that. I take a breath, inhaling deeply.
As much as I worry about it, Amorte can’t prove we killed them.
Massimo and his brothers made damn sure of that.
The remains of the men sent to kill us in cold blood are now at the bottom of the sea, if the bottom feeder fish haven’t gotten to them yet.
Right along with the remains of Massimo’s beautiful white yacht, a sacrifice made to protect us all from harm.
I’m not na?ve enough to think the Amortes won’t continue to pursue trying to find out what happened on that yacht before it so conveniently exploded or try to seek their revenge for the death of their men.
It’s in a crime family’s DNA to seek retribution when wronged, it’s how we’re raised, and trained from early on.
Especially with a rival family and the Amortes are certainly an enemy now.
And as much as I want Anna to be at my wedding, she is far safer where she is, and as much as I want to believe, as much as my heart wants to feel, it’s not truly a real wedding anyway.
It has a termination date of a year. A binding contract.
A deal with the boss. Some would think a very pleasant deal, but not a long-term one at all.
As I get out of bed and head for the shower, I have to remind myself, it’s a debt, one year, we’ll grow tired of each other, he’ll have scratched his itch and hopefully we’ll part as friends, or at least as some sort of respectful allies versus the enemies we’ve been for all of our lives.
That is something I can hold in my hopes.
The warm water from the dual-head shower rains over me luxuriously, the suds of the creamy vanilla scented body wash sliding down my body before swirling at my feet and rinsing away.
Every inch of me is clean, but yet, I can still smell the scent of him, like he’s invaded my very essence.
I inhale deeply; this is real. In less than four hours, in the place I’ve called a prison, then a home, and now a place of refuge, I will be married to the dark-eyed devil I was raised to hate.
A devil’s pawn. And he’s vowed to mark me, to take me and to make me his own in the dirtiest of ways.