Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
vittoria
I'm awakened by Cesare running kisses along my body. His lips trail from my neck down to my collarbone, sending shivers through me despite being half-asleep.
"Cesare?" I murmur groggily, blinking my eyes open.
He lifts his head, dark eyes meeting mine. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my breath catch. "Good morning, wife," he says, voice low and husky.
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine in a searing kiss. Any remnants of sleep fade quickly as desire floods through me. My body responds to his touch instinctively, arching into him as his hands roam my curves.
Fuck, I hate how easily he affects me.
Cesare breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck. "I've been thinking about you all night," he murmurs against my skin. "About how beautiful you looked at the gala, how well you handled yourself."
His words send a thrill through me; a mixture of pride and arousal I don't want to feel. I tangle my fingers in his hair as he moves lower, his mouth closing around my nipple. A soft moan escapes me.
"Cesare," I gasp as his hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet for him.
He chuckles darkly. "So responsive," he says, fingers teasing my entrance. "Tell me what you want, Vittoria."
I bite my lip, torn between desire and lingering shyness from my inexperience. His fingers still, waiting for my response.
"I... I want you," I finally whisper, cheeks burning.
"Good girl," he growls, positioning himself between my legs. "This is going to be quick. I have a meeting in an hour."
With one smooth thrust, he enters me, filling me completely. I cry out at the sensation, my nails digging into his shoulders.
Cesare sets a relentless pace, each powerful thrust sending me higher. His breath is hot against my ear as he growls possessively, "You're mine, Vittoria. Say it."
"I'm yours," I gasp, voice breathless, lost in overwhelming pleasure. "Only yours, Cesare."
His movements grow frantic, wild urgency taking over, and I feel my orgasm building. "Come for me," he commands, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves.
The added stimulation undoes me completely. I cry out, surrendering to waves of ecstasy crashing over me. Cesare follows shortly after, a deep groan escaping as he calls out my name.
"God," I breathe once I can feel my body again. "That was a hell of a way to wake up."
I catch Cesare's grin, and my stomach flips. He's so handsome. Even at forty-two, he's still one of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen.
"What are your plans today?" he asks, and thankfully the anger from last night is gone.
"Having lunch with Mam," I tell him. "Unless you need me?"
He shakes his head. "No, I have back-to-back meetings. You'll take your guards, and they stay with you at all times."
I nod, knowing better than to argue.
"Tonight, we're all having dinner together," he says, rising from the bed.
I inwardly groan. That's the last thing I want, dinner with his children who fucking hate me. There's only so much bullshit I can take from them before I snap, and no one will like what happens when I do.
Including Cesare.
He seems to understand my internal struggle. "I'll be speaking with my children, Vittoria."
I sigh. "Please," I whisper. "Call me Tori. Vittoria is what my parents call me."
Cesare pauses, studying me. "Tori," he says, like he's testing the name. A small smile tugs at his lips. "I like it. It suits you."
I feel a flutter in my chest at his words, surprised by how much his approval means to me. "Thank you."
He nods, expression turning serious again. "About dinner tonight, I know my children haven't been... welcoming. But you're part of this family now, Tori. It's time they accepted that."
I sit up, pulling the sheet around me. "I understand their reluctance, Cesare. I'm not trying to replace their mother."
His jaw tightens at the mention of Beatrice. "No one could replace Beatrice," he says, voice low. "But that doesn't excuse their behavior toward you. You're my wife now, and they will respect that."
I nod, not sure what else to say. The weight of my position in this family, the expectations placed on me, suddenly feels overwhelming.
Cesare must sense my unease because his expression softens slightly. He reaches out, cupping my cheek. "You've surprised me, Tori," he says, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. "You're stronger than I gave you credit for. Don't let anyone, including my children, make you doubt your place here."
His words, combined with the gentleness of his touch, bring tears to my eyes. I blink them back, determined not to show weakness.
"Thank you, Cesare."
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling away. "I have to get ready for meetings. Enjoy lunch with your mother, and remember what I said about your guards."
As he disappears into the bathroom, I fall back against the pillows, mind whirling. So much has changed in such a short time. I came into this marriage expecting cold indifference at best, cruelty at worst.
Instead, I've found... what? Not love, certainly. But something more complex, more intriguing than I anticipated.
I shake off these thoughts as I rise to prepare for my day. Whatever is developing between Cesare and me, whatever challenges lie ahead with his children, I'll face them head-on.
I'm Vittoria Mariano now. Time to truly embrace that role.
The restaurant is bustling with the lunch crowd as I'm led to a private booth in the back. My mother is already there, rising to greet me with a warm embrace.
"Oh, my darling," she says, words thick with emotion. "It's so good to see you."
I sink into her arms, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability. "I've missed you, Mam."
As we settle into our seats, I feel her eyes scanning me, searching for any signs of distress or unhappiness.
"How are you, love?" she asks softly. "Truly?"
I take a deep breath, considering how to answer. There's so much I want to tell her, so many conflicting emotions swirling inside me. But I'm aware of the guards stationed nearby, the need for discretion in public.
"I'm... adjusting," I say finally. "It's a lot to take in, but I'm managing."
My mother reaches across the table, taking my hand. "And Cesare? How is he treating you?"
I think of this morning, of Cesare's unexpected gentleness, his words of support. "He's... not what I expected," I admit. "He can be cold, demanding. But he's also... protective, in his own way."
Her brow furrows with concern. "Protective doesn't always mean safe, Vittoria. You know that."
I nod, understanding the weight behind her words. "I know, Mam. But I think... I think he genuinely wants to keep me safe. He asked about Father last night."
Her eyes widen slightly. "What did you tell him?"
I look down at our joined hands, voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing specific. But I think he suspects."
My mother squeezes my hand tightly. "Be careful, Vittoria. Your father may not be able to touch you directly anymore, but he still has influence. And Cesare... he's dangerous in his own right."
I meet her gaze, seeing fear and worry etched in her face. "I know, Mam. I'm being careful, I promise."
As our food arrives, we shift to lighter topics, family gossip, and my brothers' antics. My brothers have already flown back to Belfast. They have to take care of things at home while Mam and Father are here in Boston.
For a brief moment, I can pretend this is just a normal lunch between mother and daughter. But reality intrudes when I notice one of my guards shifting closer, eyes scanning the crowd for threats.
"We're heading back to Belfast next week," Mam tells me as we prepare to leave, and my heart constricts. "I want to see you again before I go."
They're leaving already? I don't think I'm ready for that. The thought of being completely alone in this world terrifies me.
"Of course," I tell her, plastering on a smile. I don't want her feeling guilty about leaving me. She has no choice. She has to return with Father.
As I watch her leave, flanked by her own security detail, I feel a pang of longing for the life I've left behind. But I push it aside, steeling myself for what lies ahead.
I have a family dinner to prepare for.
I quickly head to the bathroom before leaving with my guards. Today's been better than I expected. I've missed Mam, and it makes me realize how Cesare's children must be feeling. Mam is everything to me, my support system. Those kids don't have that now that their mother's gone.
I finish up and reach for the door handle, but before I can leave, it swings open.
My father walks in, eyes filled with such hatred and fury it takes my breath away.
My heart races as I instinctively step backward, my body tensing for what's coming. Where the fuck are my guards? They were right outside. How did they not see him enter?
"What are you doing here?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady. Even to my own ears, I can hear the fear.
He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he locks the door behind him with a soft click that sounds like a death sentence.
My father advances, fists clenched at his sides. "You ungrateful little bitch," he snarls. "I heard about your performance at the gala last night. You think you're something special now that you're a Mariano, do you? A fucking politician, Vittoria. You embarrassed a politician."
My back hits the wall as I try to maintain distance. I don't want him near me. How did he find out what happened? Who told him?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell him, glancing desperately at the locked door.
"Don't play dumb with me," he growls, closing the distance between us. "You think I don't know about your chat with Zhang Longwei? Or how you embarrassed Vince Calloway? Making a spectacle, drawing attention to our business?"
Before I can respond, his hand shoots out, gripping my throat tightly, cutting off my air supply. A familiar terror floods through me; the same fear I've lived with my entire life.
"You listen to me, girl," he hisses, face inches from mine. I can smell whiskey on his breath, see the madness in his bloodshot eyes. "You may be a Mariano now, but don't forget where you came from. You're nothing but a pawn in this game, and you'd better remember that."
I'm struggling to breathe. Black spots dance in my vision as I claw at his hand, but it's useless. He's too strong. His other hand grabs my wrist, twisting my arm at an unnatural angle until I hear something pop.
The pain is so intense I'm sobbing as stars explode behind my eyelids.
"You'd better listen, you fucking bitch," he grunts, tightening his grip on my throat. "You think because you married that cold bastard you're safe from me? Think again."
His grip shifts, and I feel crushing pressure on my windpipe. The black spots in my vision grow larger, and panic floods through me as I realize he's not going to stop.
He's going to kill me.
"Remember your place," my father continues, voice dripping with venom. "You're nothing but a bargaining chip, a pretty face to secure alliances. Don't get any ideas about having real power or influence. You're mine first, Vittoria. You'll always be mine first."
I gasp desperately for air, my throat burning, my vision going dark around the edges. The pain in my arm is excruciating; something is definitely broken or dislocated. I try to speak, to beg him to stop, but no words come.
My father's free hand comes up in a fist, and I see it coming toward my face. I try to turn away, but his grip on my throat keeps me pinned.
The punch connects with my temple, and pain explodes through my skull. My legs give out, but his hand around my throat keeps me upright against the wall.
"Worthless," he spits. "Just like your mother. Weak, pathetic, and useless."
His grip finally loosens, and I slide down the wall, gasping and choking. But he's not done. His foot connects with my ribs, and I curl into a ball, trying to protect myself.
"Stay down," he snarls. "Stay down where you belong."
Another kick, this one to my back. Then another to my stomach. Each blow drives the air from my lungs, and I can taste blood in my mouth.
Finally, mercifully, the kicks stop. I hear his heavy breathing above me as I lie curled on the cold tile floor.
"Remember this," he says, voice deadly quiet. "Remember that no matter how high you think you've climbed, I can always bring you back down. You're nothing without me, Vittoria. Nothing."
I hear his footsteps moving away, then hear the door unlock and open. Then silence.
I don't know how long I lie there on the bathroom floor, drifting in and out of consciousness. Time becomes meaningless. There's only pain and the struggle to breathe.
When I finally hear voices calling my name, it feels like I'm floating above my body, watching from a distance as strange hands touch me, as worried voices ask questions I can't answer.
"Mrs. Mariano? Can you hear me?"
Fabio's voice, distant and echoing. I try to respond, but no sound comes out.
"Get the paramedics. Now!"
Everything becomes a blur of movement and pain. I'm lifted onto something soft, bright lights flash overhead, and voices talk urgently around me.
But all I can think about are my father's words echoing in my head: You're nothing without me.
As darkness finally claims me, I wonder if he's right.