Chapter 8
Isabelle
Watching the last of my room being packed up weighs heavy on my heart. I only leave out enough clothes to get through tonight at the hotel, then whatever I might want to change into after the wedding tomorrow.
An arm wraps around my shoulders, and I turn to look up at my brother.
“You okay?” he asks, squeezing tight as he pulls me closer.
Returning the hug, I shake my head. “No, but maybe one day.”
Ricky grimaces and lets go of me. “I was asking around, trying to see how he treats women he’s with…”
I already know how he treats women. He treats them like he’s dying of thirst, and only they can quench it. Rian treated me as if he found a new religion and I was the goddess he’d chosen to worship, especially with his tongue. A spike of hot adrenaline ripples through me at the thought.
“And?” I say, thankful my voice isn’t thick with the arousal soaking my panties.
My brother shrugs. “I couldn’t find anything. Either the man practices abstinence or he only fucks women who know not to talk.”
“Or they can’t talk because they’re dead.” I frown, remembering how he mentioned he hadn’t brought someone home in a while…He’s either a skilled liar or he was telling the truth.
Ricky’s eyes widen. “Isabelle.”
“What? Is that such an outrageous thought? He murders people for a living.” He’s the one who warned me about the brotherhood and what they do.
My brother grimaces, scratching the back of his neck. “I might have stretched the truth a bit. They’re mercenaries, but not exactly going out and about killing people.”
“Thanks for clearing that up. I feel so much better,” I say, rolling my eyes and walking out of my bedroom. Ricky follows behind me as we head to the kitchen, where our mother is preparing one of her classics for my soon to be husband.
When Rian suggested that we have a family dinner the night before the wedding, I knew it was to watch for any last minute doubts from me and my parents. The thought of running never crossed my mind because I could never live with the guilt if my family got caught in the crossfire, and Rian wants to make sure I would stand by that.
I kiss my mother on the cheek as my nose tingles at the overwhelming aroma of spices. “Hey, Mama.”
She kisses back and waves at me to help her prepare the dinner. I smile, more than thrilled to do so. My love for cooking comes from the nightly meals we cooked as a family. It made the desire to get the restaurant away from the Famiglia stronger.
“Come to help, piccola ?” she says with a smile, handing over an apron and the wooden spoon she was stirring with.
“Papa seems pretty excited,” I say, grabbing a knife to finish what she was chopping.
My mother clicks her tongue. “Yes, yes. He can show off that office he’s so proud of. Finally have some guests for it.”
I try to smile, my parents are excited to sell me off to the highest bidder and it breaks my heart a little. While the other girls around my age were planning their dream weddings, I was trying and failing as many new recipes as I could. This is never the life I had envisioned for myself, though a small part of me knows owning the restaurant outright was a long shot.
My mother turns on the radio, probably sensing I’m not in the mood to talk, and that’s what I love about her. We work in tandem, preparing the food while humming and singing under our breath. Occasionally, I catch her swaying her hips to the song, and I realize how much I’m going to miss this, making my earlier sadness come roaring back.
Luca arrives first, with Gio in tow behind him. He doesn’t visit our house often since Ricky usually goes to him. Gio’s soulless eyes give me the creeps. I’m shocked to see him at the door when I swing it open, ignoring the disappointment that it isn’t who I expected.
“Good evening, Isabelle,” Luca greets me.
“I didn’t realize you were coming tonight,” I say, glancing between them cautiously.
He gives me a wry smile. “Of course, we wouldn’t want Rian to be here unwatched.”
I cock my head to the side. “Isn’t the point of the marriage to trust one another and start a peaceful era?”
Luca’s eyes darken. “You’re not married yet.”
The smile I give him back is unkind. “No, but it seems like it’s for nothing if you can’t expect him to behave for a simple dinner.”
“Isabelle!” Ricky’s sharp voice has me sighing, and I leave them at the door without another word.
Any other time, I would have held my tongue with Luca but I’ve reached the point of not caring. I’m only proceeding for the sake of my parents and everything they’ve sacrificed for us over the years. I head to the living room and slouch onto the couch, knowing they are going to gather near the dining room so Ricky can pour them drinks.
They leave me alone, and when the doorbell rings again a few minutes later, I don’t get up until my name is called.
His blue eyes find mine, and I hide my displeasure at his cocky expression as he walks toward me. My hope for a night without his smug gloating is already out the window. I hold out my hand and he brings it to his lips, planting a soft kiss.
“Isabelle. You look beautiful this evening.”
I give him a closed mouth smile and pull away from his grasp. My mom tsks at me under her breath and reaches out to greet Rian. He’s polite in the exchanged handshake, but his eyes don’t leave me. I glance at the man behind him, vaguely recognizing him from the last time they visited our home. His name escapes me until I hear him introduce himself to my mother as Aodhan. I give Rian my back, walking away and leaving my mother to be the perfect hostess as I hurry to the kitchen and finish up the last few things for dinner. There isn’t much since my mother did most of it already, but I want to double check.
Ricky finds me there a few minutes later, and he leans against the counter. I avoid his gaze as I stand at the stove, stirring the sauce.
“You know, men like that. They like the chase.”
I scowl at my brother, glaring at him over my shoulder. “The chase? You mean persisting after a woman who makes it clear she’s not interested?”
My brother has the audacity to smirk and pop a crouton into his mouth. I’m too far away to smack him, so I glare daggers and he chuckles.
“Sometimes women say one thing, but they actually mean another.”
“Because that doesn’t sound like the start of a true crime episode,” I mutter, removing the pot from the burner and turning off the heat.
Moving to the sink, I wash my hands and turn to face Ricky earnestly. “Two things can be true at once. Do I find him attractive? Yes. Would marrying him be the worst thing to happen to me? Probably not. It doesn’t matter, I don’t want to get married. I’ve dreamed of being a chef and taking over the restaurant for as long as I can remember. Marrying him will sooner make me a lunch lady for the small army of minions he’ll eventually want.”
Ricky stifles his laugh. “Sorry, you said minions and my mind went to Rian in an orange jumpsuit. It’s a fairly disturbing image.”
I smile and shake my head. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “How long into dinner do you think Father will ask him where you guys are living?”
“Ten minutes.”
“I say five. Wanna bet?”
I smile at my brother, feeling less tense even if we have to walk out there and pretend to be happy they’re marrying me off to the Irish.
* * *
“Thank you for hosting us tonight. The food is delicious,” Rian says with a cloying grin.
My father tenses but smiles back. “Isabelle has always had skill in the kitchen, just like her mother.”
I roll my eyes. “Or our father, considering he owns a restaurant.”
He waves his hand. “I was never meant to be a chef, simply the visionary to bring it to life.”
“António has really taken you under his wing, though. Shown you everything he knows, right, Isabelle?” Ricky’s suggestive tone isn’t missed as Rian’s hold on his fork tightens.
“Ah, António. He’s a good man. I think Luca would steal him away if he could, but he’s married to his craft.”
“He’s also loyal to you, Francesco,” Luca says.
I lock gazes with Rian during my father’s musings. He’s watching me carefully and while I’d usually take the time to sing praises along with my family, I swallow down the words. There’s a dark promise in his eyes that has me tucking my tail on this occasion. Nothing ever happened between António and me to provoke him, and I’m not one to sling lies just to hurt someone.
“So Rian, I hear you guys are in Jersey a lot. Is that where you’ll be residing? Or perhaps a little closer?”
Ricky and I snap our heads up to the large clock hanging on the wall above the cabinets filled with my mother’s finest plates. I’m surprised she didn’t bring them out for this occasion, now that I glance at them. I smirk, knowing I won the bet. It’s the same as always, whoever loses has to try to steal a piece of dessert without our mother noticing. I’m sure before the end of the night, Ricky will have a welt on his hand from her wooden spoon smacking his thieving fingers. My brother slumps in his chair, closing his eyes briefly as I stifle laughter.
When I turn my head, I catch Aodhan’s attention bouncing between us, and I sit up straighter in my chair. I appreciate my brother’s attempt to calm my nerves, but I’m sure it looks childish from an outside perspective.
Turning back to the conversation, I answer the brief silence just as Rian moves to speak. “It’s barely an hour drive, Papa,” I say.
“I have a lot of business to attend to in Manhattan. I’m sure we’ll visit frequently,” Rian assures them.
Giving him a thankful smile, I pick up my wineglass to take a sip, not wanting to talk about his kind of business at the table.
“And when can we expect grandchildren?” my mother asks, excitedly.
I gasp and cough as the wine shoots down the wrong side of my throat. Grabbing the cloth napkin draped on my lap, I hold it to my flushing face and look down at the dripping mess in front of me from spitting out the drink.
“Classy,” Ricky snickers, and I hear a soft smack as my mother hits him.
I’m not sure what I’m more embarrassed by. The completely unattractive moment that just happened or my mom’s immediate inquisition about us having kids.
Rian reaches over, wiping up the wine in front of me on the tablecloth. I stand, excusing myself without glancing at anyone and hurry to the bathroom. I lock the door as I study myself in the mirror, thankful for the dark navy dress I’d donned, and wipe the few drops sliding down my neck.
“You okay?” Rian calls through the door when I ignore the first gentle knock.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see him. It takes me a few minutes by myself to center my thoughts and calm my breathing. I half-expected it to be my mother, who would have scolded me for the overreaction to her simple question, but I’m not ready to face my future husband.
Ignoring his knocking, I finish cleaning myself up at a luxurious pace and then open the door to find him still standing there. His eyes roam over me, lips quirking, and I glare.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make a joke about it. I’m never going to live it down.”
He shrugs, still struggling to hold back his smile. “It wasn’t that embarrassing.”
“We barely started our meal without my parents bombarding you about moving closer or kids, as if you don’t kill people for a living. Believe me, it’s more than embarrassing.” The words rush out fueled by the nerves I’ve had all evening.
Rian’s smile drops, something darkening in his eyes as he stares at me.
I frown, sensing the change in his mood, a little nervous that he’s going to take what I said as gossiping about his business. “What?” I push the question out of my aching throat.
“Your parents love you. I don’t find anything embarrassing about that. It shows me how loved our kids will be in return.”
My heart twists, pattering away at his intense honesty. It’s not the response I’d been expecting, and it pierces me sharper than anything else he could have said. I also remember Ricky telling me about Rian’s father, who is housebound from his terminal illness. I feel a little like a scolded child for being ungrateful. “We should return to the table.”
He moves out of the way so I can walk past him, and I shiver when his fingertips brush the small of my back. My dress is a modest length that hits right below my knees, but there’s a small opening along my spine that gives him the opportunity to brush my bare skin. “But I should let you know that I told your parents we’ll be having kids as soon as possible.”
“And I have no choice in the matter?” My voice shakes with the question and his fingers pull away.
“Do you not want children?”
I look up at him. “I do, but I have a lot I want to accomplish with the restaurant.”
“And you think it matters if we have them now versus years later? Your feelings about the situation will change?” His cold eyes stare down at me and words stick in my throat. I want to tell him…maybe? That perhaps he has a chance, that we have a chance to fall in love, but it seems ridiculous. I don’t want to put those delusional thoughts in his head…or into the universe to mock me when it never happens.
I turn and leave him without an answer. His arrogant self follows behind, and I just know he has a gloating smirk on his smug face.
* * *
“Don’t want to join them for a smoke?” I ask, dropping my empty plate on top of his to bring to the kitchen.
His warm, tattooed fingers wrap around my wrist. “Do you mind if I have a moment with your daughter, Mrs. Romano?”
My mother blushes and scurries over to grab the plates from me. “Of course,” she agrees, then glances at where the men have disappeared into my father’s study. “Perhaps it’s best to stay in this room, though.” Ricky had tried to linger, but Luca pulled him away. Honestly, I’m glad to get away from them all, and the awkward tension as my father tried to keep Rian talking while everyone else just ate in silence. The cracked door between the rooms is the only indicator that they didn’t leave us completely alone.
Rian smiles, the annoyance laced underneath his reply is obvious because I’m so close. “Understood.”
Then his bright eyes slide to mine, the amused mockery swirling at my family’s attempt to preserve my purity. I try to tug my arm away from him, but his grip tightens.
“Take a seat, Isabelle.”
I plop down on the chair behind me, hunching forward because he still refuses to let go of me. He still thinks I’ll find an excuse to leave, which I am tempted to do now with his consistent need to touch me.
Rian hooks his foot around the leg of my chair, dragging me closer until our knees brush. Then he drops my wrist to rest on his thigh, and I resist the urge to curl my fingers around it before slowly pulling my arm away. I don’t want him to know how much he affects me.
He has to know how attractive he is, but I couldn’t have known how my body would heat at the mere memory of our intimacy. The thoughts of my hands roaming down his toned, muscular back as his hips pumped between my legs. I can’t stop the shudder that courses through me, my nipples hardening under my dress.
His eyes darken with desire, and he rubs his fingers across his lips. “What are you thinking about, love?”
“Nothing, sweetie ,” I sneer. I would rather get my tongue cut out for lying than ever admit to the man that is forcing me to marry him that I’m thinking about the time he fucked me.
If I thought my attitude would deter him, I’m proven wrong when he adjusts the bulge in his pants right in front of me. My mouth drops, glancing over my shoulder out of habit before snapping at him. “You can’t do that here.”
“Isabelle, I could bend you over this table and fuck you full of my cum and no one in this house would lift a hand,” he says, crossing his foot over his knee with a cocky attitude that makes my heart skip a beat.
I blink, cold sweat forming under my breasts. A forlorn emotion pokes at my chest. I like to think that my brother, or maybe Luca, would stop him. But I’m not sure they would. In our world, I’m just a single woman, while he’s the heir of the Irish mafia.
“No snarky comment now?” His lips twitch, relishing my silence.
Swallowing, I rub my wrists where I feel the phantom burn of his touch. “What did you want, Rian?”
“I want to set some expectations of how this is going to work between us.”
My attention is drawn to the blank space on one of his fingers as he clasps them together on his lap. The square of bare skin spans from knuckle to knuckle, and curiosity has me wondering why.
He clears his throat, and I look up at him, narrowing my eyes as I snap. “Sorry, am I allowed to speak? I wouldn’t want to overstep your manly boundaries as a mere woman.”
His tongue rolls over his bottom lip before he bites down on it. I can’t pull my gaze away from the movement, and I blush when I know he’s caught me.
“Do you know what happens to mouthy, defiant wives?”
I sit up straighter, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I jerk my chin. If there’s one thing I’m not going to stand for, it's Rian raising a hand to me. My father loves my mother deeply and worships her like a queen. While I have no illusion this will ever be a marriage of love, I won’t be abused in my own home.
“If—”
“They have the attitude fucked out of them,” he growls.
He presses the heel of his palm into his hard cock again.
My breath catches, the words I was ready to throw at him dying on my lips. Heat unfurls in my belly and settles between my legs.
His taunting chuckle is low, barely audible outside the two of us. “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”
I lift my eyes to his, glaring and tightening my jaw so I don’t comment. He’s looking for a response, waiting for me to slip up so he can take more from me. His foot drops softly onto the floor, and his tattooed hand skims just above my knee, trailing up my thigh. My breathing shallows, and I grasp the edges of my chair. He watches me with a raised brow, demanding I tell him to stop as his fingertips press against my panties.
“Open.” His demand is whispered but strong, and my body shakes with fear. Or anticipation? I’m not sure what I’m feeling as I glance toward the kitchen where my mother disappeared into and part my legs. My eyes flutter as he moves forward in his seat, pressing his fingers harder against me until he finds my clit with a grin. Our gazes don’t stray from another as he works my swollen bud with slow circles and heat spreads throughout me, flushing my face.
“ Mine to touch whenever I want, isn’t that right?” The huskiness in his voice tells me he’s just as affected, and if we were anywhere but my parent’s dining room, his cock would be out. My panties are slick with my wetness, sticking to my pussy as he rubs harder when I don’t answer him. The dull ache in my fingernails as I scrape the bottom of the chair is nothing compared to the tension in my belly as pleasure coils tightly.
“Rian,” I whisper, unable to get out anything else.
“Shh, Isabelle. I got you, love. Let go.”
I bite on my bottom lip, silencing any noise as I tumble over the cliff of my release. He doesn’t let up as my body shakes with my orgasm, thick and pulsing waves of bliss until I push his wrist away from me and gulp in air as discreetly as I can.
Rian’s mouth lifts on one side as he leans back in his chair and brings his fingers to his nose, inhaling sharply. “Do you cook every night?”
My eyebrows furrow at the unexpected question, and I fan my flushed face, hoping he won’t notice the blush. “Depends on if I’m working or not.”
“I’d like a homemade meal from you at least once a week. It doesn’t matter what day, but we’ll sit down with my men and have a family dinner,” he says.
I lick my drying lips, my mouth parting in faint surprise at the declaration. My breathing starts to calm, and I’m able to focus more on what he’s asking of me.
“Okay,” I agree weakly because I’m actually not opposed to the idea. When Ricky started spending more time with Luca during the week and I was always at work, our family dinners lessened and I missed them, truth be told. “But I do want to continue my work at the restaurant.”
His jaw tightens. “We’ll see.”
My eyes narrow. “I agreed to this marriage to save my family and everything they’ve built. It will be for nothing if I’m unable to continue to work toward that legacy.”
He is annoyed, but sighs and nods. “We’ll discuss it when the time comes. We will share one room, so start getting comfortable with the idea of being in my bed every night.”
My head jerks back. “Every night? Surely you won’t want it every single night?”
Rian’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I meant to sleep. But…I assure you there won’t be a day you won’t be begging for my cock.”
I level him with a glare. “Arrogance isn’t attractive.”
“Arrogance is for the weak who lack the means to back it up. I’m confident in everything I say.”
Straightening my shoulders, I look back to my father’s study, annoyed with his presence. “Are we done? I’d like to spend my last night of freedom with a little less…of you.”
Rian grabs me by the chin, pulling me forward until our mouths are a heartbeat apart. “Don’t try anything tonight, Isabelle. I’ll have men watching.”
I sneer at him. “See you in the morning, husband.”