Chapter 18 #2
Her reaction is almost immediate. I feel her suck in her stomach, holding it there until her breathing grows shallow. What the fuck is she doing?
A shiver runs through her, but she doesn’t pull away. “And the bakery?”
“Once I’m convinced I can trust you not to run, you can return to work there.”
“Will I be allowed to be on my own?” she questions.
“No,” I clarify, making my expectations clear. “Some of my people will always be close by to keep an eye on you.” I don’t bother softening the truth.
“So I don’t run,” she states dryly.
“So I know you’re safe,” I counter.
“Okay,” she relents. “I can live with that.”
She tries to turn, but my tight grip prevents her from doing so. When I don’t let up, she unexpectedly moves my hand from her hip to her thigh. Instead of leaving it there, I return the limb to its previous position.
“Please,” she begs as she tries to move my hand again.
“Tell me why,” I demand.
I might not get exactly what’s going on here, though something definitely is. She’s fine with my hard cock pressing against her ass, yet she draws the line at my hand on her hip. Her stomach’s still sucked in and her breathing’s still shallow.
And then it hits me.
She’s too fucking embarrassed by her size to let me feel her soft curves. Forcing my mind back to when I moved my hand to her hip, I find a place in my memory I didn’t even register. My hand connected with her stomach’s skin.
“Alina,” I growl, annoyance sharpening my tone. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”
“I’m not,” she whimpers. “I’m right here.”
Despite telling myself I’m not a bastard like my dad because I give women choices, I’m about to take some away from Alina right fucking now.
I find the light switch and bathe the bedroom in light again. Then I roll Alina onto her back. Her eyes widen into saucers when I roughly spread her legs and kneel between them.
“W-what are you—”
“Be quiet,” I bark.
I reach for the hem of her shirt, but before I can lift it, her hands attempt to slap mine away. Another growl is ripped from my throat as I grab both her wrists in one hand and hoist them into the air, away from her body.
Tears gather in her eyes, making the orbs shine with despair. “P-please don’t,” she cries.
Ignoring her plea, I lift the shirt up to reveal her stomach. A sob builds in her throat, and she fights like hell to get me away from her. She pulls on her wrists and even tries to kick me.
Her pathetic attempts are like mosquito bites. Frustrating and inconveniencing, but feeble all the same.
I lean down until my lips almost touch her flesh. “You’re sexy as fuck,” I tell her honestly.
Then I place a kiss just above her navel.
“So soft.”
Kiss.
“Natural.”
It’s not until she pulls on my hair I realize I’ve let her wrists go. “Raffaele.”
Rather than let her stop me, I place another kiss on her stomach.
“Warm.”
Kiss.
I let my gaze trail over her stomach, noticing small, almost iridescent and ghostlike stretch marks.
Finally, looking up at her tear-filled eyes, I say, “There’s no need to hide from me, Alina. One day I’ll know your body better than you do.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shakes her head. Her entire body’s trembling with pent-up emotions. “I c-can’t stand it,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “P-please don’t play with me, Raffaele. I know I’m not… beautiful.”
“What?” I growl, not liking what I’m hearing.
Alina carries on, ignoring my interjection. “But I’ll be a good wife, I promise. My dreams are important to me. Y-you can trust me.”
I’m so taken aback by this display of not just raw emotions but also of self-loathing that I don’t know what to say or do. I get she has wounds from how her sister treated her. Or… maybe the problem is that I don’t understand at all. I just think I do.
“Open your eyes,” I croon, waiting until her blue orbs meet my green ones. “You’re a beautiful woman, Alina. And I promise I’ll remind you every day until you believe me.”
Even though skepticism burns in her gaze, she doesn’t argue. She just nods slowly. Knowing that this isn’t a fight I can win in a day, I press one last kiss to her stomach. Then I lower her shirt, get us back to how we were lying before, and switch the light off again.
“Thank you,” she whispers, the gratitude in her voice making something shift in my chest.
“What kind of wedding do you want?” I ask, changing the subject. “Something elaborate? Traditional church ceremony?”
She shakes her head. “No. Something small. Intimate.” Her voice grows wistful. “Just a few people who matter. Maybe outdoors when it’s warmer—”
“We’ll get married soon,” I interrupt.
“Right, right,” she murmurs. “As long as it’s nothing flashy or expensive.”
The simplicity of her request pleases me. “My cousins will be there,” I tell her. “Enzo and his wife, Piper. Matteo and Raven. And Remus.”
“Raven?” Alina says, her voice suddenly brightening. “I like her.”
She falls silent again, but her body has softened against mine. The combination of the late hour and emotional exhaustion is taking its toll.
“We’ll talk more in the morning,” I murmur, settling more comfortably against her. “Sleep now.”
“Okay,” she agrees, her voice already thick with approaching sleep.
I listen as her breathing deepens and evens out, her body going slack in my arms. Even in sleep, she fits against me perfectly, her curves molding to my harder edges. The scent of her hair fills my senses as I close my eyes.
Mine, I think fiercely as sleep claims me as well.
After the wedding, she’ll bear my name. And eventually, when she’s ready, she’ll bear my children too.
Everything she wants, everything she dreams of—the bakery, motherhood—I can give her. And in return, all I need is her surrender. Her trust. Her body.
Her love.
The last thought catches me off guard, slipping through my defenses as consciousness fades. I push it away, burying it deep where it can’t disturb me. This marriage isn’t about emotions.
It’s about solving problems, not creating new ones.