6. Lachlan #3
"I want to see Matteo," she says again. Her voice is steadier now, like she's found some core of strength to draw on. "Right now. Or I'm not doing anything you ask."
"He's sleeping—"
"I don't care." Her eyes meet mine, and there's determination in them that wasn't there before. "I want to see my son. I want to know he's safe. And then maybe—maybe—we can talk about whatever insane plan you have."
It's not insane. It's practical. It's the only way I can think of to keep her as safe as possible—to bind her to me legally so that no one can challenge my right to protect her.
Gio can try to attack and steal her back, but he won't be able to argue any longer that I don't have a right to her.
He can't try to turn my allies against me by claiming I'm violating his sister.
"After we're finished, you can see him," I say calmly. I hate how much it sounds like a negotiation, like I'm bargaining with her instead of just giving her what she needs. "After you put on the dress. After we do this. Then you can see him."
"No." She shakes her head. "No, I'm not doing it. Not until you let me—"
"We're doing this, Adriana. Tonight. The priest is waiting, and I'm not—"
"I said no." She's not backing down, not giving an inch, and part of me admires her for it even as it frustrates me beyond measure. "I'm not marrying you tonight. I'm not marrying you at all until I understand what's happening, until I know my son is safe, until I—"
She stops, her breath coming in short gasps, and I can see her starting to spiral again, starting to panic. I need to stop this before it gets worse.
Moving toward her is probably the wrong choice, but all I want is to pull her into my arms. I step closer, close enough to touch, and I see her chest start to heave. Gently, carefully, I rest my hands on her waist.
"Adriana, breathe. You know me. You know I would never hurt you.
Matteo is safe, but we need to get this taken care of.
We can't waste any more time, and you can explain everything to him afterwards.
" I guide her away from the wall, toward the bed, and I can feel how tense she is.
"This won't take long. But the priest is waiting.
" I repeat myself, feeling like my thoughts are scattered.
I'm so fucking tired, and nothing is going the way it should. "I need—I need you to—"
I don't know how to explain it, how to put into words this desperate need I have to make this official, to bind her to me in every way possible before she can slip away again. But the practicality of it is what I can cling to, so I stick with that.
She freezes next to the bed, staring at the dress. "Here," I say gently. "I'll help. I know you're tired, and this night has been a lot. I'm tired too. We'll get this done, and then you can see Matteo, and—"
Without thinking, my fingers start to slide under her shirt.
Ten years ago, I never touched her without her express permission, without her telling me over and over that it was okay…
but after ten years of deprivation, with her right here, I can't help myself.
I can smell the sweet scent of her hair, and she's so soft under my hands, and God, my cock is swelling just from brushing her skin with my fingertips—
"Stop," she gasps, twisting away. "Stop, please, just stop—"
"Adriana—" I start to reach for her to turn her toward me, my thoughts hazy. I need to touch her. I feel like I'm starving, and I step forward, my hands going toward her waist again.
She hits me.
Her hand catches my cheek, enough to make me step back as the skin heats and reddens. It jolts me, and I feel a wash of shame for touching her without asking first. Even that innocent of a touch—she's right about one thing, the boy she loved would never have done that.
But I've had to become a different kind of man to get her back. And I've had nothing but her ghost to keep me company for ten years.
"I'll do it," she says, her voice trembling. "I'll put on the fucking dress. But you have to leave. You have to get out of this room right now."
"Adriana—"
"Now." She's not asking. And there's something in her expression that tells me if I don't leave, if I push this any further, I'm going to break something that can't be fixed.
So I leave. I walk out of the room quickly, before I can do anything else to make this worse, and close the door behind me. I stand in the hallway trying to catch my breath, trying to understand what the fuck just happened and how I managed to fuck this up so completely.
My cock is still half-hard, but I don't reach down to adjust it. I can't touch it right now, or I might lose control. At the very least, I'll have to go and take care of it before we can do anything else, and I don't have time for that right now.
Adriana needs to be my wife as soon as possible.
Everything else, all the recriminations and explanations and figuring out how to move forward can come after that.
After I've made sure that when Gio Santoro wakes up tomorrow, he no longer has any right to the woman who has been mine for twelve years.