Chapter 13
ELSIE
“They’re here!” Sophia runs for the door the following evening, his family on the other side of it.
I smooth out my white pencil dress before running my fingers through my hair, my pulse drumming.
“You can go open it,” Michael tells her from beside me while I almost trip on the way to the door.
My whole body prickles with awareness. He unnerves me by being this close, and I’m already nervous enough to meet his family.
My heartbeats thump chaotically in my chest. I don’t know why I’m this nervous.
I have no reason to impress them. In fact, their opinions mean very little because Michael needs this, and he doesn’t seem like the type of man who will care what they think of me.
That gets my heartbeats quieting just a little, but not enough that when the door opens and three very well-put-together people walk in, I don’t want to run up the stairs and hide.
What if they know where I came from and what’s been done to me?
But no, they couldn’t. Not unless Michael has told them, and he has no reason to.
“Sophia!” his father says, lifting her off her feet, his eyes going to me and then to Michael. “This must be Elsie. I’m Giancarlo. Nice to meet you.”
His smile is endearing, but the way he looks at me…I bring my arms over myself, feeling the need to hide.
“Nice to meet you too.” I nod in greeting, plastering on a fake smile.
Michael’s mother sweeps past her husband, coming over to my side.
“I’m Fernanda. You’re even more beautiful than Michael said.” Her eyes shimmer with a grin.
His face is stoic as I happen a glance, not an ounce of a reaction.
“Thank you,” I tell her as she pats my hand, walking further into the house.
The twelve-seat dining table is set with the food Pearl cooked, all the dishes covered up and remaining heated before we set to eat.
“So, this is going to be my new sister-in-law,” says the man I’ve met, the one who held the gun to my chest.
When his father and Sophia walk into the house, he leans in.
“Nice to see you again.” Lifting my hand, he kisses the top of it, his lips dancing with a smirk.
“Thanks for keeping your gun away from my face this time,” I sass back, watching Michael from the corner of my eye as he waits off to the side, staring daggers at us.
I can practically feel his eyes searing my skin.
His jaw flexes, arms crossed over his white shirt, baring a hint of his bulging chest, the buttons appearing as though they’re about to pop.
His arms fall, hands balling into tight fists, the rings straining against his fingers.
And images of what he could do to me with those large, masculine hands barrage into my mind like a movie I want to star in over and over until I’m wrung dry.
“That was before I knew you were going to be family,” Gio goes on in a low tone.
I had completely forgotten he was even here.
“And what a family it is,” I scoff.
“We’re not all bad.” Amusement flanks his features. “Some worse than others.”
Then he struts away, and I’m left with Michael’s eyes zeroing in on me. He beckons me with a thick finger, but I stand exactly where I am, a single brow lifting in defiance. If he needs me, he can come to me.
It’s just me and him here; everyone else has now made themselves comfortable in the den.
When I don’t make any effort to join him, he stalks over to me, and I suddenly feel out of breath, tripping back a step. Hooded eyes trap me in place, closer and closer, until he’s right before me and the only place I have left to go is backward.
My body hits the door just as both of his palms slam against it, confining me. I can feel the swell of his hard bulge against my stomach.
“Have you forgotten whose wife you are, little dove?” he practically growls.
My insides curl deliciously, loving the jealous twinge in his voice.
“What are you talking about?” I barely have the ability to speak, my body striking with a flame he set to it.
I burn everywhere. For him. For the connection I want to explore when I’m not thinking about who he is and what kind of life he’s leading. I just want him right now. To lose myself with a man simply because I want to.
“You were flirting with my brother.” The backs of his fingers slowly caress down my cheek.
I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation, my breaths alive with desire.
“I can flirt with whoever I want,” I whisper, my gaze meeting the darkness pooling in his eyes. “That was never part of our agreement.”
He draws in a long inhale, staring hard at me, a veil of unmatched possessiveness clouding over his face, like he’d fuck me right up against this wall just to show me how wrong I am.
Who I truly belong to. My eyes hunger for his mouth on me, for his lips to dance over my skin with tantalizing prowess.
I gasp as his palm slides up to my throat, tightening his fingers around it. His lips bend to mine until they brush the corner of my mouth.
“Is that what you think?” he whispers harshly. “Well, let me make something clear.” He cinches his grasp. “You, little dove, are mine. In name…and in flesh.”
My chest rattles, and it’s like he wants to kiss me, but is fighting it. His exhales force themselves out of his lungs, like he’s tangling on the cusp of losing control.
“No one will touch you,” he promises, running his nose down the side of my throat. “And if they try, they won’t live long enough to remember.”
Then he’s off me, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stalks off, while I’m left with the memory of his body pressed up against me.
I tried to sit through dinner in one piece, but it was difficult with his palm permanently attached to my thigh. That was all I could think about while I ate, while his family talked.
Everyone’s now gathered back in the den, drinks in hand. I try to take a sip of the white wine Michael had silently given me, but I can barely stomach it. Michael, though…he’s had a couple of glasses of whiskey already.
“So, Michael,” Giancarlo calls from across the sofa, seated on another with Sophia on his lap. “When is this wedding happening?”
“As soon as possible. I want it done fast, and so does Elsie.” He clasps a strong palm over my upper thigh, the sides of our knees touching.
Can a person die from overstimulation? Because I swear I’m there. I need his hands off of me, yet I want them all at once.
“Right, baby?” he stresses.
“Right.” My response is tight, a forced smile latched to my mouth, not giving him any indication that his hand on me is making it hard to breathe.
As though hearing my thoughts, his fingers delve deeper, sinking into me roughly, and my core pulses like it wants it that way.
“I can’t wait,” I add, before leaning over into his ear. “Baby? Really? Way to put on a show.”
He chuckles, rubbing the pads of his fingers into my inner thigh. My pulse thrashes in my ears, and I place my hand on his, trying to remove it, but it’s like a damn brick.
“You can get the wedding planned for us, right, Ma?”
Her eyes immediately travel to us. “Absolutely! It’ll be the talk of the town. You just leave it up to me. How’s a week?”
A week?!
My stomach fastens with knots. What if the Bianchis find out I’m here? What if they demand he return me? My hand trembles, the wine almost spilling, but Michael is there to save the fucking day, grabbing my wrist to steady me.
“Looks like my bride is a little tipsy already.” He leans over to kiss my temple, taking the glass from me and placing it on the table beside him.
He has no idea that the way he just kissed me sent my heart exploding like fireworks.
Kiss me like that again, Michael. Please. I need to feel it.
Why do you make me feel this way? Like you’re more than just my fake husband. Like you care.
God, I hate this. I don’t belong here. With him. Pretending. I have to concentrate on getting out. On saving Kayla. On creating a whole new life for myself. One that doesn’t include Michael Marino.
“I’ll send Galina over tomorrow,” his mother continues, oblivious to my internal struggles.
“She’ll make you whatever kind of dress you want.
” Her hand slides through her short, wavy auburn hair.
“And if there’s anything you want for this wedding, you just tell me, sweetheart. We can do whatever you’d like.”
“A Cinderella carriage!” Sophia volunteers, now sandwiched between her grandparents, excitement bathing her wide eyes.
“We did promise her, baby.” Michael peers at me, his heavy palm gliding up and down from my knee to the top of my thighs.
I grow achy, needing this night to be over.
“Fine by me.” My voice breaks, and he smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing to me.
Asshole.
“Grandma will get you that carriage. Don’t you worry.” Her sigh is heavy as she glances onto her lap, quieting for a few long seconds, her mood completely shifting.
“What is it, Ma?” Gio asks.
“I just wish Raph could be here for this.”
“Not this shit again!” Giancarlo shouts, throwing his hands in the air.
Sophia’s eyes widen. I knew I hated that man as soon as he walked through the door.
“How many times have I told you that he’s dead to us, Fernanda? Dead! He won’t be coming to no fucking weddings.”
Sophia slips off the couch and tiptoes to our side, sitting between us. As soon as she’s there, I grab her hand and hold it in my lap. Michael catches it from the corner of his eye, and his jaw tics.
“Enough, Dad.” Michael grows irate. “We’re not doing this again.”
“Tell your mother that.” He lifts his chin at her in disgust.
“Excuse me.” She gets to her feet, swiping under her eye, and Gio follows her.
“I hate it when he yells,” Sophia whispers to me.
“I know you do,” I tell her, not knowing what else to say.
A minute later, Fernanda and Gio come back in, and she reverts to that happy face she wears, but it’s obvious she’s hurting inside. We all hurt in our own ways, some more than others. Makes me wonder what’s really going on with his other brother. What would make a father disown his own child?