Chapter 9
Catalina
The clicks of the door’s locking mechanism reverberated throughout the bedroom suite, reiterating that Dario and I were alone. Fighting the growing panic, I inhaled, turning a complete circle and taking in the room. Large windows displayed our reflections. My breathing hitched at the sight of the large king-sized bed. Doubts and worries filled my thoughts.
How many women had Dario brought to this bedroom? Women who knew what they were doing, or maybe women who didn’t want to be here. I’d convinced myself I was prepared for what was about to happen, but as the blood drained from my body to my feet, even I couldn’t believe the lie.
Em’s warning came back to me. ‘The whore was in bad shape. Dario paid extra for her missed work.’
My movement stopped as I was once again facing Dario, still standing near the double doors. The unreadable expression from earlier was gone, replaced by a possessive, predatory aura. The deal was done. The cartel did its part, giving the famiglia a sacrificial virgin. Such as a lamb ready for slaughter or perhaps a queen waiting for her execution, I was now left defenseless.
Removing his jacket, Dario exposed his white linen shirt and the holster strapped over his shoulder. Taking out the gun, he set the safety and laid the weapon on a nearby table.
“You felt the need to be armed at your own wedding?” I asked.
Dario’s grin inched higher. “The only places I’m unarmed is in my bed and shower.” Removing his tie, he laid it and the holster next to the gun and came my way.
I craned my neck upward to maintain eye contact, unwilling to show my fear.
“What about you, Catalina? When and where do you let down your guard?”
“I’m not armed.”
My body tensed as Dario reached for my shoulders. Yet despite my concern, his touch was gentle. “What I told you before is accurate. I believe in honesty in a relationship. It’s the most important quality.”
I swallowed.
“I chose you, not only because Roríguez promised my father you were beautiful and untouched but also because I saw a fire in you that I respect. Did I misread you?”
A fire.
When I didn’t answer, he continued, “Honesty, Catalina. You’re standing as if you’re ready to bolt or to fight and at the same time, I sense a frightened doe. It’s true I’m the predator, one who knows the stench of fear. I’ve smelled it from men before I kill them, enemies and famiglia alike. I trust very few people.”
“Is that what you’re going to do—kill me now that the deal is done?”
He scoffed. “That would be counterproductive to our marriage, don’t you think?”
“I have fire.” I met his dark gaze. “I also have a sense of self-preservation. The second dictates when I show the first.”
Dario nodded. “You wore white, making my mother and the other women in the famiglia very happy. That’s self-preservation.”
“I wore white because I’ve never been with a man.”
Dario released my shoulders and took a step back. “You’ve been to college. Surely you dated?”
“I was raised a princess in the cartel with bodyguards always within sight. Not all females are allowed to attend college. My father was…more progressive. Still, I was raised to believe I was of worth. Even if that worth was used to leverage a deal.”
“You have worth, Catalina.” He inhaled. “You’re here because I chose you.”
Crossing my arms over my stomach, I said, “I’ve spent my life protecting my virtue, and now I’m expected to give it up without a fight.”
His eyes resumed their hungry stare. “You’re mine.”
Closing my eyes, I nodded. “I know that, too.”
“I don’t think you want to fight.”
I shook my head. “I don’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth about your virtue when I gave you the ring?”
“I didn’t lie,” I replied quickly. “You said you were okay with not being my first, but” —I gestured toward the bed— “I imagined you’d learn the truth sooner or later.”
“Is that why you’ve looked at me all night as if I’m the devil himself? Are you worried about sex?”
I let out a long breath, turned, and walked to the window. The closer I came, the better I could see through the glass. Down below, the guests were mostly gone except for the few Vincent had invited to his office. Workers were hustling from here to there, clearing away tables and chairs. My body again tensed as Dario came up behind me, the scent of his cologne filling my senses a millisecond before his warmth radiated behind me.
“You’re my wife.”
I nodded, fearful that if I spoke, the tears I’d held back would break loose, and I would drown in their flood.
“I’ll repeat what I said earlier.” His deep voice reverberated through me. “I don’t want you to fear me.”
Spinning, I looked up and met his stare. “You hurt one of the whores at Wanderland.”
Dario’s brow furrowed. “Is that what you heard?”
I nodded. “My brother told me. He said you paid extra for her missed work.”
Dario’s rumbling laughter caught me off guard.
“That’s rich.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your cousin treats the whores at that club like sex slaves.” He inhaled and ran his hand through his thick hair. “I don’t explain myself to anyone.”
Anger’s fuse began to burn within me. “Are you saying Nick hurt her?”
He reached for my hand. “I don’t harm women.”
“You’re a made man.”
He nodded. “I am. I’ve killed many men. Women have died, too, but not for sex. Gender doesn’t make the guilty innocent. That woman was already injured. Only a few days before our arrival, the cartel’s doctor ripped a child from her womb. She was too sick and in too much pain to work, yet she was requested for the visiting VIP customers—us. It was a request she couldn’t refuse.”
“An abortion?” I asked, dumbfounded. I’d never thought about the sex workers becoming pregnant.
Dario nodded. “She broke down and told me her story once we were alone. The bruises on her arms were there before I ever saw her. She begged me not to tell Nicolas or Nick, saying she’d be punished. They’d told her to work and if she didn’t...” He pressed his lips together.
Punish her?
My family?
Dario went on, “I paid ten times what was asked, saying what a great job she did and how after me, she deserved time to heal.”
As I fell to the edge of a chair, I realized there was much I didn’t know about my own family’s business. And now I was in a new family. Looking down, I saw the lace of my wedding dress. With my eyes lowered, I said, “I’m sorry, Dario.”
He hunched down near my knees. “Why are you sorry?”
Slowly, I looked up. “I believed my brother. I think I’ve allowed those thoughts to frighten me” —I lifted my chin toward the bed— “about what you would do to me.”
Dario took my hand and standing, encouraged me to also stand. “You believe me?”
“You said honesty is important. You’re about to be capo of the Kansas City Famiglia. You can do whatever you want, including roughing up whores, without question.” I tilted my head. “You could admit it, and I would be powerless to do or say a thing.”
He nodded.
“Why would you construct an elaborate story if it wasn’t true?”
Dario cupped my cheek with his warm palm. “I won’t lie to you, Catalina.”
I inclined my face to his touch. “Nor I you.”
“It’s a good start.”
My mind went to Nick, Em, and others in the cartel. “You don’t trust the cartel, do you?”
He pressed his lips together. “As I said, I don’t trust many people.”
“What about me? I was born into the cartel.”
“What about you? Are you confessing you’re not trustworthy?”
I took a breath. “Em gave me a knife and thigh holster for my wedding night.”
Dropping his hand, Dario’s eyes opened wide. “Did he want you to gut me?”
“No.” Although now I was questioning Em’s motives. “He said it was for my protection.”
“Where is it?”
“I left it in the bedroom where I stayed.”
“Because you thought you wouldn’t need it?”
I shook my head. “Because I want this marriage to work and to do that, it means I have to trust you.”
“I’m not a good man. However, I have honor and I don’t take vows I intend to break. That includes my wedding vow.”
I lifted my hands to his wide chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath my touch. “May we start over?”
Dario shook his head. “Again, not over. The timing of this talk could have been better, but we need to be open and honest with one another.”
“You’re right.”
“And you’re my bride.” The glint returned to his dark stare. “The buttons on the back of your gown have been mocking me all night.” He spun me around until I was once again facing the tall window.
Steeling myself, I watched our reflection in the glass, expecting him to pull out one of his knives and cut away my dress. Instead, his fingers began searching my hair, gently tugging hairpin after hairpin. Slow and tedious, his movements were reverent as if I was valuable in his eyes. “Your hair is beautiful.”
As my hair unwound, Dario teased each curl with his long fingers and added kisses to my neck, back, and collarbone. Somehow, with all of his attention on my hair, his kisses and occasional words of praise brought heat to parts of my body that remained untouched. The skirting of his touch over my flesh sent a scattering of goose bumps.
After my hair was loose and flowing and the carpet was littered with hairpins, Dario started with the top button. With each pearl released, he’d place another kiss on my spine. The meticulous attention he gave to each and every pearl button was more than I’d hoped for.
“I fucking want you more than I should.”
The heady timbre of his voice twisted my core. His kisses chilled me as they simultaneously warmed me from within. It was a dichotomy I couldn’t explain. He’d lit a spark and was gently fanning the flame of my desire. My nipples drew tight, suddenly sensitive under the pressure of the corset below my dress.
“Gorgeous doesn’t begin to describe you.” He turned me toward him, showing me the dark lust in his orbs. “I’m a monster.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to believe my husband was a monster.
“I am,” he said. “You don’t know me. I should take a shower and let you sleep.”
Do I want that?
“Dario…” I wasn’t sure what I was about to say.
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he silenced my words, pulled me against the hard plane of his body and lifted my chin. “That’s what you deserve. You don’t deserve to be fucked by a man like me. I should take it slow.”
The way my heart was pounding, I was certain he could feel it against his chest.
His voice deepened. “Your virginity didn’t matter to me until you told me that it is mine for the taking. I fucking want to take it.”
My mind was a mess of overstimulation as Dario stood back and brushed the sleeves of my gown over my shoulders. I sucked in a breath as the dress fell to the floor, pooling around my shoes, leaving me standing in my corset with see-through cups scarcely shielding my breasts and white lace panties that barely covered my core.
Leaning down, Dario pulled up the leg of his pants, revealing a knife holster.
My breathing stuttered as he slid a knife with at least a nine-inch blade out of the holster.
“This is tradition.”
Holding my breath, I nodded.
The blade sliced through the front of the corset, ripping the fabric between bones. The corset opened like a flower showing its petals. As it fell to the floor, I realized that my gown was still intact. Articulating my relief was soon forgotten because as the realization struck, Dario placed his knife on the table near his gun. In one fell swoop, he scooped me into his arms, cradling me to his chest.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, taking in his spicy scent, the sense of his muscular shoulders, and the taste of his kiss. As his strong lips possessively took mine, moans came from my throat and my body reacted in a way it never had.
This kiss was different than the one in front of the guests—different than all the ones in front of the guests. Dario’s tongue unapologetically sought entrance, giving me little chance to resist. I didn’t want to resist. Never had I been kissed like this before.
My fingers went to his head, weaving through his hair.
Dario threw back the covers on the bed and laid me on the sheets with my head upon a pillow. Without a word, he stood and scanned from my hair to my shoes. Tenderly, he removed my high heels, leaving me with only my scant excuse for panties.
Unsure what to do, I reached for his shirt.
Dario’s hand gripped mine. He took a step back and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing another sheathed knife and holstered gun. By the time he was down to silk black boxer shorts, the table had two guns and three knives.
The weapons weren’t my focus as I took in his muscular back littered with white scars. When he turned, his wide chest was also marked by scars. I sat up and stepped away from the bed, unable to resist the need to touch the shiny white markings.
“What happened?”
Dario reached again for my hand and kissed my fingers. “Life is a dangerous adventure.”
“You’ve been hurt.”
He shook his head.
“Will you tell me about them?”
“The stories would only give you more reasons to fear me.” He kissed my palm. “That isn’t my goal for tonight.” He looked down at himself and back to me. “I’m fully disarmed. Tell me, Mrs. Luciano, are you going to fight?”
Mrs. Luciano.
Bowing my chin, I shook my head. “I want you to take me, Dario. I may not have chosen you, but here we are. Your kisses make me both warm and at the same time, they chill my skin.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know what to do, but I don’t want to fight you.”
“Are you frightened?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
The muscles of his jaw clenched as his nostrils flared.
My voice found strength. “I trust you.”