Chapter 5
5
A mara
I slip out of the shower, grab a fluffy towel, and wrap myself in it. A cloud of steam swirls around me, and I wish teleportation technology would take me far away from what expects me in the bedroom.
I'm still recovering from having to smile for hours at the reception party and shaking hands with people who have done horrible things to others. But that's what I was signed up to do.
When we arrived at Massimo's swanky home in Lincoln Park, I used the excuse I needed a shower, but that was over forty minutes ago. Massimo could have left, but somehow, I know he's in the main suite, waiting for me. It's a weird sensation, knowing I married someone who may as well be a stranger. My husband.
It's easier that way.
I’ll be less disappointed the less I know. I don't expect him to be a good husband or a decent person. How can that go wrong?
The last hours went by quickly. There were lots of smiles, pictures, and toasts. The reception was wonderful, as was the food and the ginormous cake.
The dreamy wedding celebration for the perfect nightmare marriage.
I swallow.
I slip on a pair of pajamas.
I refused to wear anything sexy, so I chose a sensible pink flannel with long sleeves, pants, and a hedgehog print.
When I open the door and join him in the suite interior, he's removing his cufflinks and setting them on the nightstand. I take a moment, a long one since he hasn't realized I've joined him, to fully appreciate this insanely hot mountain of a man.
His brown hair is ruffled, less tamed than it was earlier, like he’s run his fingers through it. Massimo has that kind of power. Most women would look at him and sigh. He no longer wears the suit jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt. When I see a glimpse of his tanned skin, my stomach lurches.
Then, he turns around with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His intense brown eyes focus on me with a touch of amusement.
As if I've been caught committing a crime, I step back, my breath catching in my throat.
"Don't fret, rat. You can watch me. We can watch each other," he says and walks toward me.
Watch?
In what world is this fair? A lump lodges in my throat. The last thing I want is for him to look at me when I'm naked. This guy looks like the women he dates have thigh gaps and flat stomachs. A rush of embarrassment surges through me, heating my cheeks.
"There will be no watching of any kind," I say. "It's been a long day, and if you don't mind?—"
"Oh, but I do mind. It's our wedding night."
"So?"
"We're fucking."
I clear my throat. The way he says those words with so much confidence awakens a sensation in me I can't pinpoint. My heart rate skyrockets, and I touch my chest. I haven't had sex since I lost James.
Of course, I knew I would. I hoped I would. But not with Massimo and not tonight. I guess I was na?ve in expecting him to give me a grace period before he ensured I performed my marital duties. "I'm not in the mood."
"I can take care of that," he says, and the ease in his voice sends thrills down my spine.
"Can we do it some other night?" Like, in a few months? I add inwardly. I need a lot of time to adjust to the idea of having sex with him and maybe some intensive therapy to overcome old insecurities. Though realistically, that may mean longer than a few months.
"Why? Why not tonight? You don't have a hidden agenda, do you, my sneaky rat? To annul this marriage later?"
"What? No," I say nervously. Not only because I don't have a chance in hell of annulling this marriage but also because I know my mom would straight up kill me if I did. Worse, she'd tell her second-in-command to finish the job. The same guy who beat me senseless.
"I can't be too sure."
"Okay. Fine. Let's get it over with," I say.
"Good girl."
I climb onto the bed with my pajamas on and lay there like a dead fish, belly up and eyes on the ceiling. Then I reach for the lamp on the nightstand and turn it off. Now, the room is dark. Good. I don't need him to see me naked.
He flicks on the light. The bastard.
"Light's off. That's the deal," I say.
"I like to see."
"Seeing you naked is the last thing I need. In fact, darkness is the only thing that will help me pull through." A second later, I regret my honesty.
He laughs. I hear his hearty laugh for the first time—it's a powerful sound. "If darkness will help you pull through the task of fucking me, darkness it is, rat."
He walks up to me. I gnaw my lower lip. This is it.
I've been forced to marry this man, and there is no running now.
The honeymoon is about to start.