Chapter 11 #2
My heart skips a beat as he holds his hand out to me. I shift my weight and grit my teeth against the sharp sensations coiling through my abdomen.
Pietro growls and tugs me backward. The cold fury in Mario’s eyes becomes a raging storm of ice and fire.
My hand burns from lack of circulation. The knife is too far away. I shove my bouquet against Pietro’s wounded ribs and jerk away. My knees wobble. I lunge toward Mario’s outstretched hand but lose my balance in the ridiculous heels.
Mario’s iron arm bands around my back as he catches me. I lose my grip on my bouquet and my veil flies off my head. Flowers and lace scatter over the ground.
Romeo’s scowl flashes through my vision as Mario sets me on my feet and pulls me against his side.
“You’ll regret this,” Pietro sneers.
Mario scoffs, removes his arm from around my back, and sticks his hand into his pocket in a deceptively lazy stance.
Every muscle in my body tightens as he adjusts the intensity of the vibrator. I gasp and grab his sleeve.
Shock widens both Pietro and Romeo’s expressions as they recognize the reason behind my flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
With his gun pointed at my betrothed and my father, Mario flips the vibrator to a higher setting. I whimper and clutch at his arm as the pressure grows to unbearable heights.
“No, I won’t regret this, but you will. You’ll have nothing but regrets to keep you company from now on, won’t you, Pietro Denaro?”
The brutal truth in his declaration breaks something in the man I once adored. Pietro reaches for his gun.
A single gunshot rings through the cathedral. Pietro’s agonized shout as he drops to the ground echoes through the vaulted ceiling. Despite the women shrieking and ducking, the men remain frozen in a battle no one wants to lose.
Blood spurts from Pietro’s thigh.
The man Mario called a kid on the parking deck roof steps forward, cuffs Pietro’s hands behind his back, and rids him of his weapons before taking over the task of ensuring he watches the rest of the proceedings.
The violence and gore pull me away from the urgent need to come, but when Mario shifts his aim to Romeo, my body instinctively seeks him and I rub my breast on his arm, seeking friction on my hard nipple despite the thick fabric of my bodice.
His golden eyes flick down to mine for half a heartbeat before he focuses on Romeo again. My nerve endings spark with electricity.
“Bring the documents,” Mario commands in a guttural voice.
The priest in charge of the ceremony complies without hesitation. I cling to Mario’s sleeve as I teeter on the edge of orgasm.
“Valentina, baby, don’t do this. You promised me you’d never leave me,” Pietro pleads from the marble floor.
A tray with an official marriage license, already filled out with Mario’s and my full names, and a pen appears beside me. The priest’s robes gleam in the bright lighting while his weathered face remains stoically blank.
I take the pen with an unsteady hand and meet Pietro’s eyes.
“That was before you made yourself into my villain. You’re the reason I’m doing this,” I say.
Not an ounce of pity or worry rises in me despite the growing pool of blood underneath my father.
The vibrator slows inside me. I take a shuddering breath and sign my name.
Pietro shouts obscenities. I offer the pen to Mario.
The vibrator speeds up before he takes his hand out of his pocket. I shiver and cling to his sleeve for dear life, afraid I’ll shatter into a million pieces and join the flowers and lace strewn about the floor.
His devious smirk melts my bones. I grit my teeth and feast my eyes on his masculine, scarred hand as he scrawls his signature onto the marriage license.
I’m losing my mind. Everything is sexual. Lust rules my world. Mario controls my lust.
He’s the devil pulling my strings.
Emotional relief barrels through me as I realize my father can no longer hurt me. My composure breaks, and I gasp as waves of pleasure crash over me. I fist the back of Mario’s suit and squeeze his arm in a death grip as my core clenches.
The vibrations ratchet my orgasm impossibly higher. A whimper escapes my chest as my insides contract harder. Disbelief and humiliation spear through me as wetness gushes down the inside of my thighs.
When I peel my lashes open again, my entire body trembles and the universe shimmers with vibrant sparkles.
The dark crimson staining the floor around Pietro Luciano holds a tragic beauty I can’t explain. I lift my gaze to the old man’s face and sever all ties with him.
“I choose Mario Luciano. Only Mario.”
The breathy voice doesn’t sound like mine, but it says the words emanating from my heart.
Pietro’s reaction doesn’t matter. Mario guides my face to his with a gentle finger under my chin.
“Good girl. Mine,” he growls.
I drown in a sea of sensuality as he captures my lips in a searing kiss. My first kiss.
There’s no gentleness. No holding back. It’s raw, wild, and brilliantly terrifying. He ravages my mouth like a starving man at a feast, commanding and owning me with a ferocity that borders on cruel.
When he pulls back, I struggle to breathe from the intensity in his eyes. An inferno rages in my veins, and even though the vibrator no longer hums inside me, fresh need pulses between my legs.
I squeak and grunt when he tosses me over his shoulder.
“Make sure he gets proper medical treatment,” he tells the clergyman.
“Why?” Pietro curses.
Mario chuckles and slips his gun into its holster before grabbing my ass. I whimper as his thick fingers mash my dress against my wet pussy.
“You will live a long, miserable life knowing I took everything you hold dear and made it mine,” Mario vows.
I brace my hands on his lower back to ease the pain in my stomach from his hard shoulder as he turns and stalks toward the door behind the pulpit, but my corset, full skirt, and tight sleeves make it difficult. The bruise on my arm throbs as I strain to lift my head.
“Be still, paperotta . No one can save you now. You’re mine. My wife. My plaything. My revenge,” he snarls.
The hatred in his voice ices my heart.
What the fuck have I done?