8. Massimo
Chapter 8
Massimo
E xhaustion tugs at me, making every step feel heavier than the last as I head for my bedroom. No. Our bedroom . It’s going to take a while to get used to thinking like that. I’m married, tethered to a woman who despises me.
We held an intimate reception at the house after the ceremony this afternoon. I left Margot to deal with the guests, excusing myself to my office with Romeo, Daniele, and Leonardo. Who would have thought that my wedding night would have been filled with talks about guns and drugs rather than getting lost in the body of my wife ?
Fuck .
I’m married .
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know what that entails in its entirety. We’ve said vows and promised each other till death do us part—although I wouldn’t have put it past Margot to be plotting that already—but what does it mean for my everyday life? I’ll share my bed with her. But will she bear my children?
I can’t help but chuckle at the thought. If her dress choice is anything to go by, Margot has no plans to submit and fulfill the role of my dutiful wife. And I’m not the sort of man that will force himself upon a woman if she’s not into it. I walk away. But there’s something about the way she fights me at every turn that thrills me and makes my dick hard. It’s safe to say that married life will be interesting with her, if nothing else.
I turn the corner and walk the dark corridor. When I open the door to our room, I’m greeted by an emptiness in the air. Only the lingering scent of her perfume, mingling with my scent is left to taunt me.
Margot fucking Marino .
Grinding my teeth, I flick on the overhead light, my eyes on the empty California king bed. I should have seen this coming . A quick search of the bathroom and closet confirms what I already know to be true. She’s gone . The question is, has she left the house or just found another room?
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scan through my messages and emails but there’s nothing from the guys manning the security room or anything about a runaway bride. Okay. She’ll have hidden herself in another room, probably the one furthest from me.
My strides are purposeful, my exhaustion gone and replaced with a primal determination to show Margot exactly who is in charge. I prowl through the dark corridors, the eerie quiet following me as I skulk through the house. Occasionally, the faint hum of the air conditioning or a creaky floorboard as I move breaks up the silence.
There aren’t many rooms she could have gone to; most are off-limits and locked or not fit for guests to sleep in, either lacking furniture or with it covered. I move through the house with cold, deliberate precision, bypassing rooms and heading for the ones furthest away from ours.
The irritation in my chest swells, growing hotter and hotter. But there’s something else, a constant that lingers beneath the surface. A hunger that I can’t ignore. I’ve had men piss themselves at the sight of me, but Margot… she’s like nobody I’ve ever met before. She doesn't fear me the way she should.
Rushing up a flight of stairs, I mutter, “If she wants to play games.” My eyes are locked on the door at the end of the hallway. “Then let’s fucking play.” I roll my shoulders back, lifting my chin as I bare my teeth.
Fury guides me through the door. It slams against the wall, bouncing back toward me before I bring my palm against it to stop it from coming back at me. If she wanted to keep me out, she should have fucking locked it.
But even that wouldn’t have been enough .
My nostrils flare as my eyes acclimate to the darkness of the room. Light spills in from behind me, but I can see her easily enough, curled up in bed, unmoving. I prowl across the room, my body vibrating with anger and my eyes set on her.
As I get closer, she sighs heavily, rolling onto her back and leaning up on her elbows. “What do you want? I’m trying to sleep.”
I don’t say a word. Instead, I continue my advance toward her until I reach the end of the bed where I throw back the covers. My jaw works at the sight before me. Margot’s long legs are bare, smooth and begging to be touched. She pulls down my T-shirt in an attempt to cover herself and my dick hardens.
“What are you doing, Massimo?” There’s a breathless note to her voice, but I can’t be certain that I’m not imagining it.
Either way, my cock twitches, and an idea forms in my mind. I grip her ankle and drag her toward me. Margot yelps, her eyes widening and panic flaring in the emerald depths as she tries to stop herself from moving.
With her hair splayed out on the bed, the natural copper is a stark contrast to the white of the sheets beneath her. If it wasn’t for the shock that’s now morphed into a scowl, I might think she was alluring.
My voice is a cocktail of arousal and barely contained ire when I say, “You want to act out, Margot? See how far you can push me?” Defiance burns in her gaze. “Then bring it on, because you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, and I know you won’t fucking like how this turns out for you.”
I reach for her, fisting the material of my T-shirt as I pull her up, slow and deliberate. Her body stiffens and her hands come up to rest on my wrist but she doesn’t push me away. She stares at the bunched cotton, dumbfounded and, for once, speechless. With swift precision, I tug her forward, bending my knees and throwing her over my shoulder.
The warmth of her skin against my hand and the brush of her hair on my arm as she thrashes around sends a surge of heat through me. Her fists hit my back, each thud only heightening my arousal. “Let me go, asshole.”
Tightening my hold on her bare thighs, I can’t help the sinful chuckle that falls from my lips. My strides are sure and even as I carry her back to our room.
Smoothing a hand up the back of her leg, I reply, “You’re going to have to try harder than that, sweetheart.”
“You’re a thug and there isn’t a reality in this universe where you willingly get a woman like me,” she spits, her fists pummeling my back.
That’s better . “And yet, here we are, in this universe with my ring on your finger as I carry you to my bed .”
If she thinks that she can spend a single night of our marriage in a bed other than mine, she’s got another thing coming. I won’t have my staff gossiping about the fact that my wife is sleeping as far from me as she can get.
“I won’t ever let you lay a finger on me, you prick.”
Her words send a flare of anger through my body, twisting with my arousal and urging me to show her who is in charge. “You seem to have forgotten who you’re dealing with, Mrs. Marino .” I sneer.
Her body tenses, but she doesn’t say another word.
When we reach our bedroom, I stalk into the space, throwing her down on the bed. She lands with a soft thud, my T-shirt riding up and giving me a glimpse of her black lacy underwear.
Margot sits up on her elbows but doesn’t move to cover herself, and when I lift my eyes to hers, I see the challenge reflected in them.
A fire burns bright that tells me she’s not done fighting.
Good .
Because neither am I.