Chapter 8 #2
“Yes, I did. Fabiano’s a fucking kid. He needs to learn the ropes if he wants to join the big boys one day. Dry humping the maid of honor at his don’s wedding isn’t exactly a good look.”
“So we were humping now?”
She’s outraged.
I love the fiery fury in her eyes, in her voice.
The way she’s standing up to me. Challenging me.
I’m half hard just standing here drinking her in.
But we’re surrounded by family, and my goal is to keep everyone from noticing the electric chemistry between Isla and me.
Together, we’re combustible, even when we’re at each other’s throats. Maybe more so when we are.
I down the rest of my drink. “Look, you standing here giving me your outraged routine isn’t any better. Go back to dancing. Just make sure you’re not trying to get dicked by any of my cousins.”
She actually has the nerve to poke me in the chest. “You don’t get to order me around. Got that? I don’t care who you are.”
I have lightning-quick reflexes.
In a heartbeat, I catch her finger in a grip she can’t escape. “You should be careful with this finger, sweetheart. I’d hate for something to happen to it.”
I’m not about to cut off anything when it comes to Luna’s best friend. But I’m not above scaring her into thinking I might. It’s the only way I can keep myself from falling back into her bed and the best way to maintain that angry fire in her eyes.
“Are you going to chop it off?” she asks me, her body tense and frozen, deer-in-headlights style.
I almost feel bad for making her think that. For the tiny hint of fear in her voice. But I don’t allow myself to feel guilt. Not for anything. If I did, I’d be burning alive with it after some of the things I’ve done.
Before I can think twice, I bring her finger to my lips and catch it in my teeth, giving her a quick nip. “Maybe I’ll bite it off.”
She jerks her hand from me, and I allow it. “You’re sick, you know that?”
Without waiting for me to respond, she whirls around and sashays that fine ass back to the dance floor. I head to the bar for another glass of Macallan. Looks like the night is going to be a long one.
Isla
“You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” I tell Luna as we dance together to “Hotel Room Service.”
Actually, I shout it while raising my hands in the air and shaking my ass, because the music is still loud enough to wake the dead, and because there’s something really satisfying about the chorus to this song.
Also, I’m tipsy.
I tried to avoid anything even resembling vodka, but one of the Andriani cousins—I think it’s Francesca, although with the lights down, telling them apart is getting increasingly difficult with each drink I consume—gave me a delicious rum cocktail that slid down so easily, I snagged myself another. And another.
I’m having the time of my life, despite the glowering mobster who keeps watch from a table in the shadows. And if I shake my ass a little more than necessary, he’s the reason. He bit me. I still can’t believe it.
“Thank you,” Luna tells me, throwing an arm around me as we dance. “I love you so much, and I’m so glad you’re here with me for this day.”
“Me too.” I sniffle, because I’m getting misty-eyed again.
My bestie is married. Her wedding was perfect. I’m so happy for her, I can hardly stand myself.
We dance ourselves breathless to the rest of the song, and when it’s over, Luna hugs me and I hug her back. A familiar guitar melody starts up, and Priest appears at our side.
“You two can dance together for this one if you want to,” he says diplomatically.
Luna and I crack up laughing, and I disentangle myself.
She may be just a tad tipsy too. This is the celebration I wanted for her.
Thank God I didn’t ruin it. And neither did psycho mobster, despite all his threats and icy glares.
Too bad all that white-hot charm evaporated the second he found out who I really was. But it’s definitely for the best.
I don’t want anything to do with the Mafia. Luna was born into this world, and she can handle it. From the looks of things, she’s got Priest wrapped around her finger anyway.
“I need a break,” I tell them, making a shoo motion with my hands. “Go on and dance, love birds.”
I don’t have to tell them twice. Luna goes into Priest’s arms, and they lock gazes, swaying to “Everything Has Changed.”
I sniffle some more as the lyrics hit me in the feels, and then I decide to go in search of the bar. Maybe one more rum drink before the reception winds down couldn’t hurt. But before I can get to the bar, he’s there. A wall of imposing Mafia muscle.
“Where are you going, Jane?”
I’ve had enough rum to give him my true opinion of his question.
I meet his cold glare. “Fuck you.”
His jaw tightens. “I told you that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”
To my complete amazement, he takes my hand in his and starts tugging me back to the dance floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand.
“Dancing with you.” He whirls me around, and I land against him, his captive, my palms splayed on his hard chest. “I highly doubt you need another drink from the bar.”
“I wasn’t going to the bar,” I lie.
He doesn’t say anything, just looks down at me with that smug, arrogant expression that makes me want to either kiss him or punch him in the nose. It’s really not fair that he’s so good-looking.
And that he gave me the best orgasms I’ve ever had.
Don’t think about that now, Isla.
Why does he have to smell so delicious? I could lick him from head to toe. Trace his eight-pack with my tongue.
Down, girl. He’s a dick, remember? A criminal. Right.
“Stop looking at me like you want to knee me in the balls,” he growls at me.
I blink. We’re on the periphery of the dance floor, swaying to the music, the lyrics oddly prescient as the melody unwinds around us.
“Don’t give me ideas,” I say sweetly.
My hands are still on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding steadily under my right palm. It’s a reminder that this powerful, handsome, vital man is also fallible. Mortal, made of flesh and bone.
He chuckles, my hands absorbing the rumble. “We’re putting on a show. Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
I am enjoying being this close to him. Enjoying his hands on my waist, holding me like they belong there. I blame this on the rum. If I were sober, I’d have already kicked him in the shins.
I give him an arch look. “I’m not good at faking it.”
“I know.” His head dips, his lips close to my ear. “Your screams were all too real.”
He’s baiting me. I’m not going to take it.
When he straightens, I look him in the eye, sliding my hands slowly up to his shoulders. “Or maybe I’m better at faking it than I thought I was.”
That’s a blatant lie. Every noise I made that night was one hundred percent real and totally involuntary, an instinctive reaction to the unbelievable pleasure he inflicted on me. Again and again and again. I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.
Which is a terrible, very bad, no-good thing.
Because this man is not for me. He’s made that more than apparent in every way possible.
He smirks. “We both know you weren’t faking it.”
He’s right, damn him. But I refuse to admit it.
I change the subject instead.
“So, why are we putting on a show?”
“So that Luna and Priest think we’re friends.”
“More like frenemies.”
One of his hands glides to the small of my back, resting just above my ass, and I hate how good and comfortable it feels, being in his hold like this.
“Besides,” he said coolly, “it’s a good photo op. The best man and the maid of honor, dancing together. It’ll make Luna happy.”
As if on cue, the photographer appears at our side.
And I know he’s right. Luna has been fixated on wanting the photography team to capture the essence of the day and preserve it.
So for my bestie’s sake, I lean into Alessio and smile.
The hand on my back presses me even closer.
I feel his cock brush against me as the camera flashes.
“Perfect,” the photographer says, grinning at us.
A few more snaps, and she moves on, taking pictures of the other guests as she goes. The second she’s gone, I jerk away, putting enough space between us that I won’t have his monster dick tempting me.
Oh God. Just the thought of his big, beautiful cock practically ruins my panties. I need to get my shit together. Or never touch another drop of alcohol again. Maybe both.
The song winds down to the final lyrics about meeting someone and it altering the trajectory of your life.
And they’re so not wrong. Everything has changed since I arrived in St. Thomas.
Alessio releases his hold on me, and I step back like he’s made of fire and I just got burned. The DJ announces that we have a half hour left before the reception comes to an end.
It’s almost midnight.
Without even looking at him again, I head for Luna. We spend the rest of the reception dancing and laughing, and when it’s all finally over, she looks exhausted but happy.
“Everything was wonderful,” I tell her. “This was the most gorgeous wedding I’ve ever attended.”
“Thank you, Is.” We hug again, and then Priest is there to collect his wife and take her back to his bungalow.
I snap a final selfie of the three of us before I go off in search of my bouquet, which I abandoned at the wedding party table.
I’m tired, my feet hurt, and thanks to Carina—this time, I know which cousin it was—I’ve downed another rum drink before the open bar closed.
If I wasn’t tipsy before, I definitely am now.
My water glass is still on the table, so I take a nice, thirst-quenching gulp.
“It’s probably a bit late for that, don’t you think, Jane?”
I wasn’t expecting the voice. I snort my water and start choking, turning to find Alessio watching me with a grim, hooded look. Now there’s water dripping down the front of my silk gown, and I’m trying to catch my breath.