Chapter 33 – Liam #2
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I pressed harder on her pulse, proving to both of us that she was just as crazy. That a psychopath like me turned her the fuck on, and she couldn’t hide from the truth. “Go, put on a pretty dress or something equally as fine.”
“Fine?” she drawled.
I released my hold, drawing my knuckles across her jaw. “Fit for a queen.”
Gabriella didn’t jerk away. No…. She leaned into my touch.
I dropped my hand to my side and straightened, suddenly overwhelmed with something—something I couldn’t name.
“A queen?” Gabriella rose but didn’t move to the door. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.
My dick went fully erect at the sight.
“What are you talking about, Liam?” she demanded.
“I’m going to my family’s country house. Tonight. We’ll have a picked crew of men to witness.” My fingers curled to fists at my side. Determination flooded my veins as the reality of the situation became very, very real. “I’m the new boss of the McDonagh Clan.”
Gabriella’s brows relaxed. A look, part fascination, part awe, swept over her beautiful face. “You’d let a woman come?”
It was my turn to be confused. “You’re my wife.”
And if she thought she could skip the part where I made this Roman goddess the queen of the underworld, she was going to punished. Severely.
A hoarse laugh passed her rosy red lips. “Made Men don’t allow women into the inner workings of their organization. They’d never let a wife witness a don taking command.”
Her incredulity made sense. The fucking mafia. Leave it to the traditional, holier-than-thou-art Italian factions to keep such patriarchal customs.
“Go,” I clipped out. “Hurry.”
Gabriella scooted out of the room, but not without another eye roll. I went to take the pup outside, scooping the shopping bag from the dining room table as I passed. When Storm was done with his business, I followed her upstairs.
Standing in the walk-in closet, Gabriella frowned at the nearly empty rack opposite my full one. I knew she didn’t have anything grand enough to fit the occasion. That was why, when Da brought up the idea to me a few weeks ago, I’d done some shopping.
“Here.” I set the bag on the bed.
Storm, the wee shite, hopped on the bed and tried to shove his snoot into the bag. I batted him away, shooing him off the bed.
“You cannot allow him on the furniture like this,” I grumbled.
I looked up to see the muscles at the corner of Gabriella’s mouth twitching hard. But she bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Just give it to me, cailín.
She didn’t.
The silent groan sliced through my head with a dizzying agony.
My muscles shook from the strain to keep from snatching her, throwing her onto the bed, and driving into her all while screaming at her to smile at me.
I was reduced to threads, barely clinging to my sanity.
She would scream in terror if I pounced now.
Gabriella didn’t seem to sense how bothered I was as she came to the opposite side of the bed and dumped the contents of the white and gold paper sack onto the mattress. She pawed through the tissue before straightening with a gasp.
“Liam, this is—” She stopped short, plucking up the leather and lace.
“Put it on,” I urged.
She tipped her head to the side to see around the garment. “You can’t be serious.”
My answer cracked through the room. “Deadly.”
“These aren’t even clothes,” she protested. “It looks like a Halloween costume or something they wear at cosplay.”
“Put it the fuck on.” I was two seconds away from tearing off her red and white striped pajamas and dressing her myself. I’d dreamed of what she would look like in that dress. But I knew once I had her naked, I wasn’t strong enough to keep from touching her.
If we did that, there would be no stopping the crazed beast inside from showing her my true colors.
“We’re already late,” I barked, going to the bathroom. I took my time, brushed my teeth, and then waited like a sop with my ear pressed against the door.
There was a good deal of rustling, some minor cursing, and hot strings of Italian that made my blood burn. When she finally huffed, I flung open the door.
Standing in the middle of the room, looking like the goddess of vengeance, was my wife.
“I look ridiculous.” Gabriella gestured to the outfit, flipping a metal accent with her fingers.
“You look powerful.”
Without lifting her head, Gabriella glared up at me from under her dark brows. “So…. When did you hack my phone and see the pinterest board? Hmm?”
Unable to take it any longer, I strode forward and closed the distance. I captured her, wrapping my arms around the metal-studded leather corset.
“I want to know what you like, Gabriella.” I leaned in, my lips inches from hers. “I want to know your tastes, your preferences. If that means scrolling your phone, then shoot me. I’m a sinner.”
Her breath caught in a soft, stilted sound, and that was it.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I bent and captured her lips in a searing kiss, rougher than I meant to be.
She tasted like wine and temptation and something unmistakably hers.
Warm. Familiar. My hands slid into her hair, felt the weight of it between my fingers.
Soft and fine, not something I had any business tainting with my touch. But I would be damned if I let it go.
Gabriella leaned into me. She kissed me back hard, mouth opening, breath mixing with mine.
The scrape of her teeth, the press of her body against my chest, the heat of her hands gripping my shirt drove me to the edge.
It made everything else fall away. With her in my arms, there wasn’t death or crowns, enemies or threats.
I was alive. Captured in this moment where I could just be a man who held his woman.
“You look like a warrior queen, come from the land of the fair folk to bring your enemies to their knees,” I rasped, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “You look like mine.”
Gabriella gazed at me, wonder shimmering in those whiskey pools. “Well, when you put it like that.”
I smirked. “Now go.” I gave her arse a firm pat, though she probably didn’t feel it through the layers of wispy, gauzy material. “Get in the car. I’m right behind you.”
Bringing one of the dainty pillows she’d bought and the folded blanket from the foot of the bed, I followed her to the car. She raised a questioning brow as I tossed them on the back seat.
“Planning a slumber party?” she quipped.
I took the belt from her fingers, drew it snug across her body, and clipped it in place. “You might get tired on the way back. It’s over an hour drive.”
She captured my hand as I pulled away. “Thank you, Liam. That’s…thoughtful of you.”
Something passed between us. She wasn’t pulling back. She looked directly through me.
“You’re welcome, cailín.” I cleared my throat and gently untangled myself. “Get comfy, we have to get there fast.”
“Outside of Boston,” Gabriella sighed and leaned back in the seat, staring out the window.
“Aye.”
“Finally,” she breathed.
I almost didn’t catch it. “What?”
She laughed softly, almost like she didn’t believe it. “I’ve never been.”
“You’ve never left the city?” Granted, I didn’t get away much, but our family’s farm was a haven away from the chaos, war, and blood.
“No.” She yawned and reached back for the blanket. “Never left the city. Twenty-two years.”
I was about to tease her but stopped. Not because I wanted whatever this familiarity—this stolen moment—was to end. But because there was something scratching on the inside of my skull. That wasn’t right. There was a detail hidden in her admission. I just couldn’t place a bloody finger on it.