Chapter 5 Dante #2
His ham-sized fist pounds the table once. That’s all it takes for him to get his point across. “You will do this. And it wouldn’t kill you to take your wife out for an evening. Get it together.”
“In what world does the underboss of a major family like ours play Mr. Nice Guy to a bunch of philanthropists and politicians? I should be here, with you, planning.”
“This is not open for argument,” he warns.
“The invitations have already been accepted. You’ll find the information in a folder on top of my desk.
I meant to bring it in but forgot.” Then he holds up his coffee cup, turning to Luca.
“Bring me another one, would you? But don’t tell your mama.
She doesn’t want me to have too much caffeine. ”
Let Luca argue with him about how much caffeine is too much for someone with a heart condition. I need to get out of this room, and I do, taking the tablet but leaving everything else. Luca can clean it up. He has nothing better to do.
While I march to Papa’s study, my fists are swinging, and my heart is pounding against my ribs.
Breathe. Control. The only thing I can do in this or any situation is master my reaction.
Something I’ve worked on like my life depends on it, which it very well might, considering the close calls I had back before control was a word in my vocabulary.
I’m Papa’s puppet. The Santoro underboss, who, after being forced into marriage to a stranger, is now being pressed to parade around with a fake smile, all to make up for the sins committed by so many others. What a fucking travesty.
A soft, singsong voice floats my way from over my shoulder. “You’re an idiot, you know.”
Yes, what this morning needs is my kid sister’s sarcasm.
The perfect touch.
The goddamn cherry on top.
“Not now,” I tell her over my shoulder before entering the study, where, sure enough, there’s a folder labeled Invitations on the desk.
When I turn with the folder in hand, my sister is blocking the doorway, standing in the center with her arms outstretched to the sides. “You’re going to listen to me.”
“Guilia, get off my back, right? Go torture Luca for a while.” Yet when I move toward her, she doesn’t budge. “I’m serious,” I grunt, lowering my brow and scowling in a way I rarely do when she’s around. That’s because she usually doesn’t deserve it.
“You’ve always got things to do around here, don’t you? You get up, you work out in the basement, you even shower down there. Right?” Before I can answer her rhetorical questions, she goes on. “You work here all day long, and you only go home to sleep. You’re a married man now, you idiot.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“What do you think this is like for her?” she asks with an exasperated sigh. “Sophia is awesome.”
Are we talking about the same Sophia?
“Listen to me.” It’s not easy, softening my tone, calming myself down.
“I’m glad you like her. I’m glad you get along so well.
I hope you become good friends. But you can’t force anything to happen between us and for God’s sake.
” I add, “We’ve been married three whole days.
Why am I the only one around here with a reasonable idea of how things are supposed to go? ”
“I’m just saying, maybe instead of complaining that you have to, God forbid, go out in public with your beautiful wife, tell her about it like it’s a fun opportunity for you guys to get to know each other better.
She’s good at it too,” Guilia states. “When we were having lunch yesterday, she told me about all the different charities her family was involved in, you know? She’s even given speeches at different events. ”
She has? I have done shockingly little research into my wife. That’s unlike me. So much about this situation has uncovered parts of me I didn’t know existed.
And my sister’s smug little grin tells me she knows she caught me off guard.
“Just thought you should know,” she concludes with a sweet smile before dramatically stepping aside and sweeping an arm down the hall. “Now go. Talk to your damn wife. Tell her to get ready for the ball.”
“We need to get you a hobby,” I tell her, but not without affection. She only rolls her eyes dramatically before huffing away to do whatever it is she does with her time.
It would be easy to dismiss her as a child with romantic fantasies, but I can’t pretend she doesn’t have a point.
I have gone out of my way to spend more time up here in the main house, working, but I haven’t gone out of my way to get to know my wife.
Like I don’t have enough on my mind, trying to make sure we all stay alive while getting reports two and three times a day of sabotaged shipments, shootouts, missing soldiers who later turn up dead in alleys and abandoned lots.
Now more than ever, the lesser families want a piece of what we’ve got and aren’t afraid to spill blood, both ours and theirs, to get the message across.
All of that on top of ironing out the finer points of absorbing the Vitali interests. Oh, and the fact that my papa is hoping to step back sometime this century and let me take my place. But sure, this is all on my head.
We didn’t start on the right foot, either, thanks to her sour attitude and that smart mouth of hers, but I let her trigger me, too, didn’t I?
I let her get under my skin, and I’m supposed to be better than that.
If I can’t handle an argument with a woman, how can I broker peace or cool hot tempers in the middle of a meeting?
The folder I’m holding feels heavier than it should. I have a chance here. I can be the bigger person and extend an olive branch in hopes of finding common ground. Sophia didn’t have a say in this any more than I did. This woman is not the enemy.
Maybe Guilia is right. She might be happy, knowing we have events to look forward to, and I can’t pretend there’s anything wrong with having her on my arm.
The thought makes me smile before I head over to the house.
She might have the personality of a cactus, but she’s a good-looking cactus.
Those vast, crystal-clear eyes could stare a hole through a man’s entire existence.
Pouty, sensual lips that tasted like strawberries when I kissed them in front of our wedding guests.
Lips I wouldn’t mind tasting again. I wonder if they are as firm as I remember?
Not to mention a body that’s left me fucking my fist ever since the wedding. I could have done a lot worse.
I’m not sure what I’ll find once I go in, not that it slows me down. It’s only that I didn’t consider until this very second what Sophia might do to pass the time around here while I’m working.
The answer presents itself when I find her sitting cross-legged on the striped sofa with a bowl of cereal in her lap and what looks like a historical drama on the television mounted on the opposite wall next to the stairs.
Her hair is piled in a loose bun on top of her head, and she’s still in her pajamas.
She’s wearing glasses, which means she usually wears contacts. I didn’t know that.
“Good morning,” I offer when she gapes silently at me. “Am I interrupting something?” The faint sarcasm in the question snaps her out of her shock.
“I didn’t expect to see you again this morning,” she explains. “Is something wrong?”
“No, though I did invite you to the main house for breakfast, remember? You don’t have to stay here by yourself.” Not that it matters, either way, though I don’t need Luca accusing me of locking her up here.
“I’m having lunch with your mom later,” she tells me while getting up and taking her bowl to the sink.
The distance across the wide-open room means having the time to watch her ass move under those shorts.
There’s something unfair about an ass like that existing under this roof while I spend most of my day in my papa’s study. What a waste.
If I don’t tell her why I came down here, I’m going to have a problem.
Imagine not being able to get hard for my wife.
“These are invitations to a series of upcoming events. We’re going on a PR tour.
” Meeting her on the opposite side of the island that separates the kitchen and living room, I slide the folder across the black quartz countertop.
“Smile, get pictures taken, kiss a little civilian ass.”
“Oh.” She opens it slowly, like she’s waiting for a spider to jump out.
“Anything wrong with that?” I ask, snorting. Hypocritical? Yeah, but so what?
“Nothing’s wrong,” she quickly tells me as her aqua eyes dart up from a gilt-edged card covered in swooping calligraphy. “It seems sudden. We’ll have to play up the newlywed angle.”
“Are you sure you can handle the sacrifice?” I say it like it’s some huge sacrifice. Why not kick myself in the balls every morning and get it over with for the rest of the day?
Her full lips pull up at one corner before she murmurs, “I’ve handled worse. I was worried about you. How will you manage to keep away from work for a few whole hours?”
If there was a scrap of humor in her voice, I might laugh it off, but it’s sarcasm I hear, and my pride won’t let it go. “Men work. You should know that.”
“I know you might as well live up there full-time. What is the point of having this house and a cleaning lady?” Her burst of laughter grates on my already raw nerves.“Why? What for? You’re never here!”
“Our marriage means uniting our family interests, and it takes a lot of work to make something of this size go smoothly.” That’s right, be the bigger person. Calm. Control.
“Our marriage?” she scoffs and shakes her head. “It’s an arrangement.”
I can hardly hear her over the rush of blood in my ears. “If it weren’t for your maniac brother kidnapping someone important to my family and escalating things, we wouldn’t have had to come to this arrangement to make peace. Did you ever think about that?”
“Don’t talk to me about him,” she warns, chest heaving, color flooding the apples of her cheeks.
“I will talk about whoever I want to talk about in my own house, Sophia,” I tell her, making her eyes roll. “Maybe you didn’t hear the news, but you’re looking at the man who married you to end a war.”
“A war your family took part in as much as mine did.” She barks out a laugh before adding, “That’s like taking credit for putting out a fire you started.”
“Oh, you’re so innocent?” I ask with a bitter laugh of my own, remembering the men murdered by Vitali’s soldiers. The streets ran red with blood.
“Please. You should know, growing up in the same world I did. You think I had any say in literally anything that’s happened? If I had a say…” she mutters, “… would I be here locked in this house all day and night?”
“You are more than welcome to leave anytime you want. I didn’t ask to marry you, and I didn’t want to.”
Her head falls back before she fills the first floor with her laughter. “But what would you tell Papa Santoro if I did?” she asks.
That’s all it takes for something inside me to snap.
This little bitch. Nobody talks to me that way.
Don’t do this. Pump the brakes. The voice of reason screaming in the back of my head with every step I take around the island is too easy to ignore when my blood is racing, and the part of me I’ve spent so much time and energy pushing deeper into the darkness is a heartbeat away from bursting free.
Finally, after so long, this is the chance to let go.
She doesn’t back down. Giorgio taught her well.
Instead, she plants her feet and lifts her chin defiantly as I draw closer.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Dante,” she murmurs with a slow smile once I’m close enough to see her pulse fluttering in her graceful throat.
“You think I could grow up a Vitali and be intimidated that easily? You think I’ve never been bullied? ”
“I don’t give a shit what you’ve been through before now. You’re my wife. You might not have liked it any more than I did, but you signed the license the way I did. Didn’t you?”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, moving even closer until she has no choice but to back up until the countertop stops her. When she tries to slide along its length to get away from me, my arm shoots out, and I pin her on one side, then the other.
The soft, frustrated grunt she lets out pleases me almost too much.
“That means you do as I say. I think when you look at the big picture, you’ll see it could be much worse than having to put on a dress and smile for a photographer.”
Looking her up and down, I murmur, “Unless you want me to show you the kind of husband you could’ve gotten if you weren’t so lucky. I could claim what’s mine no matter how you try to stop me. You know that, don’t you? Little tough, jaded girl, you act like you’ve seen it all.”
Lowering my head, I catch a hint of the shampoo she uses—sweet and floral.
I can’t identify it, but the scent makes me want to close my eyes and inhale deeply.
I barely keep myself from doing just that before asking, “Do you want me to show you what you haven’t seen yet?
I’m a busy man, but I would be more than happy to take the time to educate you. ”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” She pulls her head back, scowling, and I’ll be damned if the fire in her eyes doesn’t do something to me.
Something nobody has managed to do in years.
The kind of thing that has nothing to do with logic, planning, or reason.
It’s something animalistic and primal. My dick twitches in the seconds before loathing comes dangerously close to becoming lust.
Releasing a shaky breath, I whisper, “Good. Make sure you have a nice dress ready, then take a look in that overstuffed closet upstairs. You’ll find something.
” Now I have no choice but to push away from the counter since I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to control myself much longer if she’s this close.
“Running back to Papa?” she asks when I head toward the door.
“Consider yourself lucky,” I fire back. “Unless you want me to stick around so we can keep getting to know each other.”
“Thank you, but I already know enough. And I’m not impressed.”
She would be impressed if she knew how hard I fought to keep from snapping her neck or consummating our marriage, whether she wanted to or not.