7. Sofia
7
SOFIA
T he tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife as Dominico and I enter the wing of his family’s estate that will now serve as our marital home. The opulent surroundings do little to ease the dread churning in my gut, the knowledge that I’m now trapped in this gilded cage with a man I despise.
I think back to the end of our wedding. My father, his eyes shining with pride and love as he kissed my cheek. I hear his voice, rough with emotion as he tells me how proud he is of me, how brave and strong I am.
I see my mother, her beautiful face streaked with tears as she embraces me tightly, whispering words of love and encouragement in my ear.
And I see my sisters, their eyes wide and solemn as they watch me leave with my new husband, witnessing the sacrifice I’m making for our family.
As we make our way to the bedroom, I can feel Dominico’s eyes on me, his gaze burning into my back like a brand. I hate the way my body responds to him, the traitorous flutter of desire that stirs in my belly despite the anger and resentment that consume me.
We begin to undress in silence, the rustle of fabric and the clink of buttons the only sounds in the room. I keep my back to him, my fingers trembling slightly as I unfasten my gown and let it pool at my feet.
I can feel Dominico moving behind me, the heat of his body radiating across the space between us. I turn around, wanting to get away from him.
I wish I hadn’t.
Dominico is standing there in nothing but his trousers, his chest bare and gleaming in the low light. His hazel eyes are fixed on me, a mix of desire and determination swirling in their depths.
Fuck, I hate the way my body responds to him, as if it’s remembering what it was like to have him on top of me, his tongue trailing its way down my breasts, my stomach…
Desire pools low in my belly, and I nearly squirm as memories of him licking my pussy come to the forefront. But I can’t show him that I’m turned on.
Thankfully, all he has to do is open his mouth and I immediately dry up.
“You know, since we’re married now, it’s only right that we consummate it.”
His words hang in the air like a challenge. I stiffen, my heart pounding in my chest.
A rush of anger overcomes me at his presumption, at the way he seems to think he has some sort of claim over my body now that we’re legally bound.
“Is that so?” I ask coldly, my voice dripping with contempt. “Well, here’s a thought. Why don’t you go to hell instead?”
Dominico’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching with barely suppressed fury. “Dammit, Sofia, I’m trying to be reasonable here. We both know this marriage comes with certain… expectations. Providing an heir is one of them.”
I let out a harsh laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, so that’s what this is about? Now that we’re ‘married’ you think you’ll get a child out of me? Well, let me make one thing clear, Dominico. I may be your wife in name, but I will never be your broodmare. Find another way to get your heir.”
Although, now that I say that aloud, an idea comes to mind. Maybe I should get pregnant so I can ensure he doesn’t touch me for nine-plus months. Hopefully, it’s a boy so I can then ban him from touching me ever again.
Dominico’s eyes flash with anger at my defiance, and before I can react, he’s pinning me against the wall, his body pressing hard against mine. I gasp at the sudden contact, my heart hammering in my chest as his face hovers mere inches from my own.
“Listen to me, Sofia,” he growls, his breath hot against my skin. “Whether you like it or not, we’re stuck together for life. So you'd better get used to the idea of being my wife, in every sense of the word.”
I glare up at him, trying to ignore the traitorous heat that coils in my belly at his proximity. Despite the hatred that burns in my veins, I can’t deny the attraction that still simmers between us, the undeniable pull of his body against mine.
He’s changed since we were last together, his shoulders broader, his muscles more defined. The boyish softness of his face has given way to chiseled angles and a well-groomed beard, the dark stubble accentuating the sharp line of his jaw.
He’s a man now, in every sense of the word. And God help me, I want him. Even as I despise him, even as I curse his very existence… I crave his touch, his kiss, the feel of his skin against mine.
“Why did you agree to marry me, Sofia?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “If you hate me so much, why go through with this farce of a wedding?”
I meet his gaze head-on, my chin lifted in defiance. “Why did you agree to marry me, Dominico? You made it perfectly clear four years ago that you don’t want me. So why tie yourself to a woman you can barely stand the sight of? A woman you never wanted to marry?”
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine as if looking for some hidden truth. And then, a slow, wicked smile curves his lips.
“I’ll tell you why I agreed to marry you, Sofia… if you tell me why you agreed to marry me.”
I meet his gaze, my chin lifted in defiance even as my heart twists with pain. “I agreed to marry you because my father is dying, Dominico. He wanted to see me settled and secure before he passed, and an alliance with your Family was the best way to protect my sisters.”
Dominico’s eyes widen, surprise and something else flickering across his face. He takes a small step back, his grip on me loosening slightly.
“Sofia, I… I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says softly, his tone genuine. “I had no idea he was ill.”
His unexpected sympathy catches me off guard, and I feel my throat tighten with emotion. “I did what I had to do for my family, Dominico. The Sicuras are our strongest allies. I couldn’t risk leaving my sisters vulnerable.”
He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I understand. But Sofia, you must know that our Families would remain allies regardless of our marriage. That bond should never be in question.”
I blink back the sudden tears that sting my eyes, my heart clenching at his words. I’ve been so focused on being strong for my sisters, on putting on a brave face in the wake of my father’s diagnosis… that I haven’t allowed myself to grieve, to feel the full weight of my own pain.
But here, in this moment, with Dominico looking at me with such unexpected compassion… I feel something inside me break.
A single tear slips down my cheek, followed by another, and another. I try to turn my face away, to hide my weakness from him… but he reaches out, his fingers gently cupping my chin.
“Sofia,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tender. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel the pain of losing your father.”
And with those words, the dam inside me shatters.
I bury my face in his bare chest, my body shaking with sobs as the grief I’ve been holding back for so long pours out of me like a flood. Dominico’s arms come around me, holding me close as he strokes my hair.
God, some wedding night.
We stay like that for a long moment, my tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as he murmurs soft words of comfort against my hair.
As I cry into Dominico’s chest, I feel a shift in the air between us. The electric current of attraction that has always simmered beneath the surface of our interactions suddenly sparks to life, igniting a fire in my veins.
I look up at him, my eyes still shimmering with tears, and the intensity in his gaze takes my breath away. There’s a hunger there, a raw, primal need that echoes the ache in my own body.
And then, before I can think, before I can talk myself out of it… he’s kissing me.
His lips crash against mine, hot and demanding, and I gasp at the sensation. I know I should push him away and slap him for daring to kiss me when I’m emotionally compromised.
But instead, I find myself melting into the kiss, my body eagerly responding to his touch.
It’s like no time has passed at all, like we’re still those same desperate, passionate teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The years of hurt and betrayal fall away, and all that’s left is the searing heat of our desire.
Dominico’s hands tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me, possessing me, and I moan at the taste of him.
It’s intoxicating, the way he makes me feel. Like I’m drowning and flying all at once, like I’m being consumed by a fire that will never be quenched.
I know it’s wrong. I know I should hate this, should hate him for making me feel this way.
But I can’t. I can’t deny the way my body responds to his, the way my heart races and my skin tingles with every brush of his fingers.
All those old emotions come rushing back, the love and passion and the desperate, aching need.
Dominico’s hands slide down my back, pulling me closer, and I arch against him. I can feel the hard plane of his chest against my breasts, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of my negligee.
I know I should stop this. I know I should push him away, should remind myself of all the reasons I can never trust him again.
But right now, I don’t care.
I don’t care that he’s hurt me, has made me feel like dirt under his shoe.
All I care about is the way he makes me feel, the way his touch sets my soul on fire and makes me forget everything else.
We stumble toward the bed, our hands tearing at each other’s clothes, our mouths never breaking contact. I fall back against the soft mattress, pulling him down on top of me, and the weight of his body against mine is like coming home.
I know I will regret this in the morning. I know I will hate myself for giving in to this weakness, for letting him back into my heart and my bed.
But right now, I don't care.
Right now, all I want is to lose myself in him, to feel his touch and the heat of his skin against mine.
Tomorrow, I will be strong. Tomorrow, I will remember all the reasons I can never let myself love him again.
But tonight… tonight, I am weak.
And in my weakness, I find a twisted kind of strength.
The strength to take what I want, to seize this moment of pleasure and damn the consequences.
Even if it destroys me in the end.