Chapter 30
Annamaria
Exhausted feels like too small a word for how I feel right now.
I never understood just how much a wedding takes out of the bride.
I have a newfound respect for all my brothers’ wives and my sister Stella.
They made it all look so easy. Then again, they were in love with their grooms, so that might have helped.
I steal a discreet glance at my own husband sitting beside me as his chauffeur drives us back to his penthouse.
I suppose I should be grateful Matteo didn’t bother pretending this wedding was anything more than a sham by dragging me off on a honeymoon.
As much as his apartment feels like a prison, it’s preferable to a five-star hotel where we would be expected to consummate this marriage.
Thank God the Cosa Nostra no longer upholds the archaic Sicilian tradition of mostrare le lenzuola to prove a bride’s chastity and her family’s honor.
Or maybe they still do and simply chose to skip it in my case, since my family apparently has none. I suppose being an Outfit principessa has its perks after all.
Then again, it could be that the new boss of the famiglia simply forbade it, sparing me the humiliation and indignity, for reasons I’m not sure I want to understand.
The words he said to me today, paired with the doting look in his eyes, confuse me more than they should. Someone who didn’t know any better might actually believe that Matteo Donato has feelings for his new wife.
Wife.
I’m going to get sick of that word real fast, considering the number of times he’s used it today. He’s doing it on purpose, though. He must know the word irks me to no end. And it wouldn’t be Matteo if he didn’t find new ways to get under my skin.
The man has a knack for always getting under my skin.
Be it with that look in his eye that almost has me believing he isn’t a monster, or the pretty words that fly out of his mouth meant only to confuse me. Everything about him should terrify me, but my mind won’t cooperate.
I blame his younger brother for that. After years of being friends with Raffaele, something in me is now wired wrong. My subconscious latches onto the similarities in Matteo’s voice and presence, and clings to them as if they mean safety, before I can remind myself that he is anything but.
Matteo isn’t safe. Not to me and not to my family. Or at least he wasn’t. Not before I stood before God and all of New York City and became his wife, binding his fate to mine.
It’s done now. There’s no way back from this. From here on out, I’ll just be a footnote in this mafia war. And a war is coming. Of that, I have no doubt.
When my family finds out, they’ll be so heartbroken.
But what could I have done? Matteo promised me he would spare their lives.
There wasn’t any other choice.
Unless he lied.
What if he just said that to make sure I made it to the altar? Could he be that devious?
As if sensing my rising panic, Matteo turns toward me with that damn look in his eyes. The one that always manages to confuse me. The one that suggests he would never hurt me, never cause me pain. The look that almost makes me believe he actually cares.
Suddenly, my panic isn’t for my loved ones. It’s for me.
No. No. No. No. No.
What if that’s exactly the reason behind his doting stares? Because he thinks this marriage is real, and that when we get home… we’re going to… Well, he can’t make me.
Matteo stole you from your home and turned you into a Donato, didn’t he?
Would stealing your virginity really be any harder for him?
Unwilling to look at his stupid, handsome face a second longer, I snap my head away from him and pretend to stare out the car window instead.
If Matteo plans to consummate this marriage, he’s in for a rude awakening. He can’t make me do it. And if he forces me, then that will only prove exactly what he is. Husband or not, only a monster would force a woman to have sex with him. That’s rape. Clear and simple. There’s no other word for it.
Fear begins to seep into me at the thought.
God, please protect me. Please keep me safe and away from my husband.
Please… don’t let tonight end in a nightmare.
“Anna? What’s wrong?” he asks softly, as if in sync with my every thought.
I don’t answer.
“Anna,” he repeats, sliding his hand over mine. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Again, I don’t offer him a reply. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not when I’m too consumed by the feel of his hand over mine. I hate how easily his touch soothes something in me when it should do the very opposite. I hate it almost as much as I hate the way my name sounds falling from his lips.
Why does he affect me this way? I don’t understand it.
“I want to hear you say it,” I whisper once I’ve gotten a hold of myself. “Tell me again that no one I love will get hurt. Tell me that I didn’t just betray my whole family for nothing.”
Something shifts in his pitch-black eyes as he squeezes my hand ever so gently.
“You have my word, wife. I will protect them as if they were my own.”
“Even if the Outfit invades your city? Even if they attack the Cosa Nostra?”
“On my life. No harm will come to them.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, choosing to believe the sincerity in his eyes.
“Is that all that troubles you? You’ve been tense since we left the reception.”
“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day,” I lie.
“Yes, it has.” He smiles, and I hate how it changes him.
Even the memories I have of him as a child, the hatred I once saw in his eyes, are harder to recall. It’s as if my mind chooses to remember this version of him instead of the man he truly is.
“We’re almost home,” he says, his thumb lightly stroking my hand.
Though it’s dark in the car, I can still make out the silhouette of his hand just fine.
Like Raffaele’s, Matteo has the same prominent veins running along it, his cuff hiding how they trail up his arm.
What a fool I was to once think hands like his were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I shouldn’t like how they look. And I should definitely not like how they feel.
With that thought screaming in my head, I slip my hand out from under his and place it in my lap, clasping it with my other hand so he doesn’t get any ideas. If I’ve offended him, he doesn’t say anything.
When the chauffeur pulls into a garage, I realize I didn’t pay any attention to the journey here. Which was a phenomenal, stupid thing to do since no one knows when I’ll be able to leave this apartment again. How am I supposed to make my escape if I don’t even know where I am?
Way to go, Anna.
You just threw away a major opportunity because you were too busy lusting after your new husband.
Ugh.
My mind is at war with my emotions, and for the life of me, I can’t get them to align.
Matteo is the first to step out of the car. I draw in a steady breath as he makes his way around to my side and opens the door, that same smile in place as he extends his hand.
Once he helps me out of the car, he hooks my arm through his, steering me toward the private elevator that leads to the penthouse.
The doors slide open with a quiet chime, and Matteo guides me inside without a word.
The moment I step in, the doors close behind us with a soft click that sounds far too final.
Mirrors line every wall, trapping us in endless reflections, leaving nowhere to look that doesn’t lead back to him.
There’s no hiding in here.
No escape from the way he stands beside me, too close for comfort.
I try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to.
After the long day we’ve had, not a single strand of his black hair is out of place.
His suit remains immaculate, as if the hours haven’t touched him at all.
And in his eyes, lingers that same unsettling glint from when he altered his vows at the altar.
From this day on, I promise to be the husband you deserve.
Whether you want me or not, I’m yours now.
The memory of his words has me looking away, only to catch my own reflection staring back at me from every angle.
I’m nothing like him. My hair has come loose after I ditched the veil, my dress already creased, any trace of the carefully perfected image I once strived for long gone.
As for my eyes, they are drained with exhaustion.
Tired of fighting a battle I was never meant to win.
Standing beside him, reflected a hundred times over, the difference between us feels impossible to ignore. It’s staggering.
“I don’t think I told you,” he says, his gaze fixed on our reflection, “but my city has never seen a more beautiful bride.”
Again, Matteo sounds sincere, but I take the compliment with a grain of salt.
Especially when every mirrored angle in this elevator proves otherwise.
Besides, what if he’s only telling me this just so I’ll lower my guard?
I can’t afford to let that happen. I need walls.
High and unbreakable, stretching as far as the eye can see. Otherwise, I’m as good as done for.
All too soon, the elevator doors slide open, revealing two guards waiting outside.
“Boss,” they greet Matteo.
“Good evening, Mrs. Donato,” they add, turning to me.
Mrs. Donato. The name makes my skin crawl.
Matteo gives them a curt nod before opening the door for me, and I don’t miss how the smile he wore for me is nowhere in sight with them.
Come to think of it, whenever I stole a glance at him during the reception, his expression was always tight, his lips drawn into a hard line.
Only when his attention was solely on me did his smile slip through.
I don’t know what to do with that information, much less know how I’m supposed to feel about it.
“Come,” he says, releasing my arm only to thread his fingers through mine.