6. Alessia
The wedding was…a wedding. It’s hard to be excited about getting married when you’ve had no time to get to know your groom, and the two of you barely tolerate each other at best. I would’ve been perfectly happy to have a small reception lunch, but my father and Finn decided it would be in our best interests to appear as a united front in the eyes of the other families. Nothing says united like a lavish party thrown by my family to welcome Finn and his family into ours. None of the Cataldis were invited, but the Farinas are here, much to my disgust. I wasn’t surprised when my father invited them, but you could have knocked me over with a feather when my ex showed up instead of his father. Even I thought he wouldn’t have the audacity after what he did to me, but wonders never cease. I should have known the devil of a man would show up to try to rattle me.
“You look lovely, Alessia,” Orlando says, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
I flinch at his touch. Old habits die hard, as they say. “You have a lot of nerve walking in here. Careful, Orlando, or you may not be walking out,” I grit out through a fake smile, hoping my father is somewhere close and sees what’s going on.
Orlando releases a dark chuckle and trails his cold fingertip down my arm. There was a time when one touch from him would light me on fire. Now, it turns my blood to ice, especially when I look into his cold brown gaze and recognize the evil behind his eyes.
“Oh, come on, Alessia. It was years ago. I was a hotheaded kid under a lot of stress. You know how my temper can be. And it’s not like you ever had a kid, so you weren’t pregnant after all. Tell me, what did you have to promise the Irish scum to get him to marry you? If you wanted a powerful man, we could have worked something out.”
His hand is resting on my shoulder as though he has a right to touch me. I don’t want to cause a scene, but I want him away from me even more.
“You make me sick, Orlando. I would rather marry Finn a thousand times—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Orlando’s hand is knocked from my shoulder, replaced by a warm palm and a reassuring squeeze.
“Orlando Farina,” my husband says in a dark tone. “I’m sorry your father couldn’t make it, though I’m sure my beautiful bride was thankful for your company while I talked to my brother.” He nods at Eoghan, who is standing at the bar with Cillian, neither of them wearing a smile as they shoot cold looks in my ex’s direction. “I’m sure you’ll understand it’s been a long day, and Alessia and I are tired. We need to say our goodbyes.”
Orlando looks at Finn with an irritated scowl. Though I can’t see the man standing behind me, there’s no missing the tension radiating from him.
“Goodbye, Orlando,” Finn says in a low voice which leaves no room for argument. A small thrill runs up my spine. I must be losing my damn mind.
Orlando gives Finn a tight smile but doesn’t look my way again as he slithers off and disappears into the crowd.
“I’ve never liked Orlando Farina,” Finn says, taking his seat next to mine.
I don’t reply because what is there really to say? He’s an absolute piece of shit, and I’m afraid if my mouth opens right now, I’ll scream. I haven’t seen him face to face in nearly ten years, and I’d have been perfectly happy to never lay eyes on him again.
Gemma walks up to the table and looks behind her, then back at me. “Was that Orlando?”
When I nod in affirmation, Gemma looks ready to follow him out the door and shoot him between the eyes. She was never a fan of his, but I chalked it up to her being overprotective when we were in college. I wish I would have heeded her warning. Gemma was by my side in the aftermath of that horrible night and then after losing my brother to a “mugging.” I never believed that fucking story, and neither did my father, especially knowing Gio beat Orlando to bloody hell for what he did to me only days prior to his death.
No one knew we were dating except Gemma and Enzo, who I made take a vow of silence. He’s older and didn’t want to involve our families right away. He said having the children of two powerful Mafia dons in a public relationship would put too much pressure on us as a new couple. Now I know it was so he could fuck around, but at the time, I thought it was romantic. Like Romeo and Juliet or some stupid shit. Of course, Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy, not unlike the ending of my relationship with Orlando.
Gemma looks at Finn and smiles. “Your brother is a pig,” she tells him, and he barks out a loud laugh.
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
When Finn’s gaze turns to me, he studies the plastic smile I’ve tacked on. It’s obvious he wants to ask questions about the little scene he walked in on, but thankfully, he lets it rest. “You about ready? I think I’ve done all the smiling and shaking hands I can stomach.”
Sounds like Finn is about as much of a social butterfly as I am.
“Yes.” I let out a sigh. “I’m ready to get out of this damn dress.”
Finn’s eyes sweep over me. “You look beautiful in it. I don’t think I told you that.”
“No, you only complained about my lipstick.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? Red’s my favorite color.”
“You don’t strike me as the type to have one.”
“I never did before.” He pauses before shaking his head a bit. “But you do look stunning, Alessia.”
It’s a strangely tender moment, well, tender for us, and I don’t know what to say in response. Do I tell him I’ve never seen a man fill out a tux the way he does? Or say when his lips brushed mine at the end of the ceremony, I felt it down to the tips of my toes? Those things may be true, but there’s a reason I don’t let gorgeous men cloud my judgment anymore. And that reason had better be leaving this damn building after getting the brush-off from me and my husband.
Gemma leans over to hug me, and before letting go, she whispers, “If you want me to poison Orlando for you, I would do it in a heartbeat, you know that, right?”
“Where on earth would you get poison?”
“I have my ways.”
I chuckle as I pull away from her embrace. While my best friend never met a challenge she couldn’t face head-on, I’m pretty sure poisoning my ex is beyond her capabilities.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell her before turning to my new husband. “Let’s at least say goodbye to our parents.” My mother would probably have a conniption if we just up and left.
Finn stands, taking my hand in his as we make our way to his parents and say good night before finding mine at their table, laughing with a couple of my aunts and uncles.
My parents stand, and my mother holds me in her arms. “You made a beautiful bride, sweetheart. Even if it wasn’t the groom of your dreams, I hope it was at least a wedding you loved.”
My mother put in so much work in a short amount of time, and I’m grateful to her for it. Was it the wedding of my dreams? No. But it was the wedding of hers, and seeing her happy makes me happy.
“I loved it, Mama. Thank you so much.”
When it’s my father’s turn to hug me, he leans in to whisper to me. “I saw Orlando talking to you. I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time. I never imagined he’d have the gall to show up in his father’s place.”
“It’s okay, Papa. Finn took care of it.”
I kiss his cheek and step back next to Finn.
“Good night. Lilliana, thank you for a wonderful evening.” Finn shakes my father’s hand, then hugs my mother before leading me out of the ballroom to the elevators.
When we step inside the mirrored elevator, Finn swipes his key card to allow us to access the penthouse level of the hotel.
“Fancy,” I tell him. “I hope it has two rooms.”
“Ah. What every groom longs to hear on his wedding night.” He shoots me a smirk. “Don’t worry, princess. There’re two rooms.”
I show no outward sign that I’m relieved he didn’t assume that just because we’re married now, he’s entitled to my body. But inside my chest, the pressure lessens.
“Is Orlando Farina going to be a problem?” he asks, staring me in the face as we ascend to our floor.
“Hopefully not, but don’t be surprised if he has designs on port control as well.”
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
I didn’t think it was, but I’m not about to tell him my sad story. Instead, I point to the small bandage on his face. “Is whoever gave you that cut above your eye going to be a problem?”
Finn laughs and shakes his head. “No. But nice deflection.”
His lip is quirked in a half smile as the doors to the suite open, and he waves his arm, motioning for me to exit the elevator.
“You’re not going to carry me over the threshold, husband? This marriage is already a disappointment.”
“Alessia, you and I both know you’d rip my balls off if I tried.”
I shrug and make my way past the large marble table with a bottle of chilled champagne and a note, probably from the hotel, congratulating us on our nuptials. The suite is dimly lit, and I head to the large window overlooking the city.
“It’s almost a shame we’re only here for the night,” I say, taking in the view of the Boston Harbor.
Through the reflection of the window, my eyes are fixed on Finn walking up behind me to look out the window. He looks like a powerful ruler gazing over his kingdom. I suppose it won’t be much longer until it’s all under his control. Well, our control.
Though it pains me, I have to admit we make a good-looking couple. He certainly knows how to wear a tux well, with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons undone at his neck. A sudden urge to taste the skin there takes me by surprise. My husband is attractive, there’s no denying it, but mixing business with pleasure has always been a hard no for me. I was involved with a man in this life before, and I have no intention of ever going there again.
My next realization hits me like a brick to the head. My mother helped me get this dress on. There are about a thousand tiny buttons up the back, and unless I want to cut myself out of it, I’m going to need help.
“I have a little problem,” I admit to Finn, and his dark-blue gaze slides to me. I swipe my hair over my shoulder, exposing the long row of buttons I have no way of reaching.
Finn nods in understanding, and his long fingers begin to deftly push each button through the fabric. I watch him concentrate, and when the first several have been undone, I feel the front of my dress loosen.
“That should be enough,” I tell him when he’s halfway down the row.
He stops, but his hand remains on the next button, staring at the exposed skin. Our gazes collide through the reflection of the large window. He holds my stare as he undoes the next one, then the next, as though daring me to stop him. Or daring me not to. My breath stalls in my lungs, but I make no move to pull away. I’m caught in the trance of his heated stare and can’t seem to find the wherewithal to break free.
Another button is undone.
Then another.
The featherlight touch of Finn’s knuckles begins to travel up my spine, sending goose bumps over my entire body.
Just as I’m about to turn to face the man causing the riot of butterflies to take flight in my belly, the shrill sound of Finn’s phone sounds through the silent hotel suite.
His eyes drop, but I don’t miss the way he tightly clenches his jaw when he pulls his phone from his pocket.
“Yeah,” he answers, walking away from me.
Holy shit. What the hell am I doing?Only a few seconds before whatever that was, I was telling myself there was no way in hell I’d ever get involved with another man in the mob. Then, the first time he touches me, I practically melt at his feet. It’s maddening and frightening how quickly I can throw my resolve out the window with the simple touch of his skin against mine.
Before he ends the call, I take hurried steps into one of the bedrooms, praying it’s the one my mother had my things sent to earlier in the day. My bag is sitting on the bed, and relief flows through me. The last thing I want to do is walk to the other bedroom on the opposite end of the suite and have to face Finn again. Moving to close the door, my head lifts, and our gazes meet for a brief moment before I shut the door, locking it for good measure.
Finn is gone when I wake up the next morning. He had some business to take care of. At least that’s what he wrote on the note he left on the table with a breakfast meant for four instead of just me.
As I sit on one of the white leather sofas in the suite and nibble on the fresh fruit left on the breakfast bar, thoughts of last night run through my head. It scares me to think how easily I let my attraction to Finn run away with itself. His gentle touch while he undid the buttons on my wedding dress nearly knocked over every defensive wall I’d spent the last several years building. It’s not that I haven’t dated in the years since Orlando, but it’s never been a man from this world. It’s been handsome, rich men who come from good families that I’ve met at one gala or another. My father has always made it a point to front himself as a wealthy real estate developer, and part of that role means I’ve had to endure several charity functions throughout the years. The men I met there were nice enough and never suspected my family made their money by less than legal means. Not the kind of men who carry a 9mm on their hip every time they leave the house or who are more likely to walk through the door with blood splatter on their sleeve rather than a bouquet of flowers. If they come home at all.
Maybe for a brief moment last night, I saw something different in Finn’s eyes. There was a moment of insecurity, of indecision, when he was touching me. As though he was holding his breath, waiting to see what I would do. That certainly isn’t par for the course with men in this life. They take and take until you have nothing left, without care or hesitation. They also don’t order what looks to be everything on the breakfast menu because they aren’t sure what you like. And they don’t leave notes letting you know why they aren’t here. Nothing has been what I expected, and that does absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.
My phone dings with a text from Enzo, jolting me from my thoughts.
Enzo:What time would you like to leave?
Me:Give me thirty minutes. Have you eaten? I have a ton of food up here.
Enzo:Mr. Monaghan took care of breakfast for the men. I’ll have the car waiting out front.
Today is the day I move into Finn’s house. Since everything with our marriage was fast-tracked, I wasn’t able to schedule a move until this morning, which worked out fine for appearance’s sake. I am a good Catholic girl, after all.
Walking into the bedroom where I slept alone last night, my wedding dress catches my eye. It would probably look odd to walk through the lobby of the hotel with it slung over my shoulder, but I don’t recall there being a bag in here other than the luggage that was in my room. I pull out my phone again to text Enzo.
Me:I need a large garment bag for my dress sent up, please.
Enzo:Mr. Monaghan informed me that his mother would be by in the next hour to collect your dress.
That’s an odd thing for a man in Finn’s position to consider. Pulling up his name on my phone screen, I decide to call him.
“Hello, dear,” he answers on the second ring, making me smile with the overly enthusiastic tone in his voice.
“Good morning. Thank you for ordering breakfast before you left.”
“It was no problem. I was about to call you and let you know my mother is coming by to take care of your dress. Your parents went back to their house last night, and your mother realized she didn’t leave the bag for you.”
“I wasn’t aware our mothers had each other’s numbers.”
Finn chuckles deeply into the phone. I like that sound. Dammit.
“My mom offered to take care of it for us.”
“She really doesn’t need to. I can have Enzo send one up.”
“She insisted on helping. I find it’s best to let her do those little things rather than arguing with her.”
“Is she going to check to see if we slept in the same bed while she’s here?”
Finn laughs wholeheartedly, and I find I like that sound just as much. “No, dear wife. I doubt our parents are under the illusion that because we’re married, we are so overcome with romantic notions that we’re suddenly in love and ready to give them grandchildren.”
“That wasn’t in the contract,” I remind him.
“It didn’t need to be, Alessia. I know how those contracts work with other families. If you didn’t have it in there, I assumed there was a reason. Your body is your own. I always thought that clause was outdated and rather barbaric. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Of course I do. That’s why I purposely left it out. But I didn’t think he knew so much about marriage contracts or considered a clause to determine when and how many times the woman was to become pregnant as antiquated as I do.
“Well, tell her thank you for me. Or maybe I’ll call my mother to tell her, since I don’t have her number.”
“When you get home, I’ll make sure to give it to you. I’m assuming you’ll be leaving the suite soon?”
“Enzo will be here shortly to take me back to my parents’ so I can pack a few things. Then I’ll be at your house early this afternoon.”
“Our house, Alessia. And I’ll be home by then.”
Our house.
“Okay. See you then,” I reply and disconnect the call.
I’ve had about all I can take of Finn’s sweeter side. It’s disconcerting, and after last night, that’s the last thing I need.
The low growl coming from the cat carrier next to me in the back seat has Enzo looking a bit nervous.
“Are you sure Finn is going to be okay with your pet?”
A laugh escapes me at his derisive tone when referring to my black Bombay cat, Lucian. Enzo is many things, but a cat person is not one of them.
“He said I can bring anything I want to the house. And Lucian will be fine once he settles in.”
“Fine is not a word I would use to describe the furball,” Enzo grumbles.
Our last year of college, Gemma and I found Lucian living on scraps behind our building. He was a pathetic little thing, and I simply didn’t have the heart to leave him there. Enzo did not agree with my decision.
I roll my eyes and peer into my cat’s angry yellow stare while he lets out another unhappy growl. Okay, maybe itll take more than a few days for Lucian to come to terms with living in a new home.
Pulling up to the guard gate, one of Finn’s men waves us through. This is the first time I’ve seen his house. It’s a huge two-story, modern transitional home with gray brickwork running up to meet each tall peaked A-line section of the black-shingled roof. Lush green shrubbery lines his circular driveway. The house reminds me of the children’s story, The Three Little Pigs and the one who built his house out of brick so the Big Bad Wolf couldn’t blow it down. Smart pig.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but this isn’t it. In all the years my father and the other families had discussed the Irish and their brash tactics, it never occurred to me they would live in homes on a huge estate with guards and so much beauty surrounding them.
What did you expect, Alessia, some hovel in the middle of nowhere?
I grab the cat carrier and get out of the car as Enzo takes my bags from the back of the large SUV.
When I walk up the front steps, Eoghan opens the door for me.
“I saw you pull in. Finn is just freshening up,” he says, which makes me wonder what took him from the hotel suite this morning, but I don’t ask.
He eyes the carrier in my hand with a wide grin. “Oh, this is going to be great.”
Eoghan ushers me into the house, and Finn meets me in the foyer with a smile and damp hair, fresh out of the shower.
“Welcome home, dear,” he exclaims as I bend down and open the door to free Lucian from his little prison. He darts out of the carrier and past Finn’s leg, causing the tall Irishman to jump back into the table in the center of his foyer, nearly sending the large vase holding a bouquet of white calla lilies to the floor.
“What the hell is that?” Finn yelps, grabbing the vase before it smashes to the ground.
“That’s Lucian. He’s really very sweet once he feels comfortable,” I reply.
Enzo lets out a quiet chuckle and tries to hide it with a cough, but I don’t miss it. I narrow my eyes at him, and Finn looks from my bodyguard then back to me. He didn’t miss the laugh, either.
“I get the feeling not everyone feels the same about the demon cat as you do, wife,” he says as he straightens his white button-down shirt.
Eoghan can’t contain his laughter and is having a hard time catching his breath every time he looks at Finn’s face.
“This is too good. You always hated cats and the institution of marriage, and now you’re married to a cat lady.”
“Hey,” I bark at Eoghan. “One cat doesn’t make me a cat lady.” I turn to my husband. “And you told me I could bring anything I wanted to the house.”
Finn nods and lets out a slow breath. “I have a feeling this is one of those times in marriage that I hear people talk about where, no matter what I say, you’re going to get your way.”
I smile. “Get used to it, husband. If you wanted a meek and compliant housewife, you married into the wrong family.”
A grin tilts the corner of Finn’s mouth as he grabs the empty carrier.
“Oh, I definitely married into the right one.” He tilts his head toward the staircase, signaling for me to follow.
“Come on. I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure Lucifer—”
“Lucian,” I correct.
“Right. I’m sure Lucian will warm up to me in no time.”
“You’ll be one big, happy cat family,” Eoghan says, doubling over in laughter again.
Happymay be a stretch, but one thing is certain—like it or not, we are family now.