Chapter 14
EMILIA
Running up the stairs, the dampness between my legs made me feel dirty and used. The silk of the black dress clung to my thighs, a constant reminder of what had just happened. That shouldn't have come as a shock; I had been used. Used as a pawn in this psychotic game that was the mafia.
Reaching my room's door, I found it was locked.
I jiggled the handle again, rattling it, but it wouldn't move.
The room had two entrances, so I headed to the next one, which was also locked.
Panic started to rise in my chest, and my breathing became shallow.
I tried every door I could find to escape his hallway as fast as possible.
When I finally opened the door, I slammed it shut as my mind processed what I saw.
My dress was still in a heap on the floor, the white fabric stark against the dark hardwood.
The large bed with dark bedding and the room's masculine decor made it clear—I was back in Nico's room.
Of course, he'd lock me out of my own room on our wedding night.
Well, if that was his plan, I was going to make it happen.
"This fucking dress," I yelled as I tried to reach the zipper.
My arms contorted behind me, fingers scrambling for purchase on the small tab.
Hopping around the room wasn't going to help, but it's just what women did when they were trying to get out of their clothes.
"Scissors, there must be a pair somewhere.
" I pulled open every drawer in the ornate closet, clothes flying, before running to the bathroom and ripping that room apart.
Bottles clattered to the floor, towels scattered.
"God damn it, fuck." I yelled, pulling off my shoe, throwing it at the door, narrowly missing Niccolò.
The heel hit the wood with a sharp crack.
"Having trouble, dear?" He grinned, holding the massive wedding cake in one hand. The white frosting looked pristine, mocking me with its perfection.
"What do you want?" I didn't give him a chance to answer. "Don't I have a lady's maid or whatever they're called? There was one earlier." I slipped off my other shoe and let it drop from my hand. It hit the carpet with a dull thud.
"Oh, you do, but I've given her a few days off." He smirked and placed the cake on the table across from me. "I wanted to have uninterrupted time with you. Having your maid hovering outside the door, I wouldn't be able to do what's required of a husband."
"You've already done your required duty." I sat on the window seat, letting my head fall back against the glass. The coldness of the glass pressed against my skin, grounding me.
"Fine, well, I suppose I will just go do a little work then." He set the knife down and headed for the door.
"Could you unzip me?" I asked quietly.
"I thought maybe you'd planned to sleep in that dress.
" Closing the door, he turned and waited.
I shook my head and tried to avoid looking at him.
"Turn around." His voice was thick, and his fingers grazed the back of my neck before pulling the zipper down my back.
His touch sent shivers down my spine despite everything.
"Thank you," I whispered, as I held the dress up. Gently, he pulled my arms away, and the dress fell to the floor.
"May I touch you wife?" His warm breath fluttered over my neck, and I leaned back, moving slightly closer to him. He asked this time.
My brain was yelling, no, don't lose focus on what this marriage was, but my body was crying out for his touch.
"Yes." My whispered confirmation was startling to even my ears.
His large hand snaked around my waist, warm and possessive.
I'd looked at his hands during our ceremony; they were void of the tattoos I could see peeking out from the cuff of his suit jacket.
"I'm sorry your first time was so rough; you deserved to have much more." His touch this time was gentle, almost caring. His thumb traced small circles on my stomach.
Why was it the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?
What kind of deranged family did I grow up in to think that his apologizing for being rough during sex was romantic?
That still didn't negate the fact that I wanted more.
"Nico, I didn't hate it." My words barely registered as a whisper, and the butterflies in my stomach must have been fluttering to Flight of the Bumblebee.
Staring at the knot in his tie, I hoped he'd heard me and prayed he hadn't.
"I could tell. You responded to my touch like I hoped you would. I wasn't lying, I've thought of nothing else except being buried deep within you since I brought you home." His voice was rough, raw with honesty.
Looking up to his face, I frowned. "Why?
" I'd never been the object of anyone's affections, and I'd always been told that I was nothing more than a place for a man to find pleasure.
It was how it was in our world; there would be no love, no gentility, and I knew whoever I married wouldn't matter to me.
But Nico seemed different, or was it just the haze of the day creeping in?
"Seeing you every day, wanting all of you, aching to hold you like this has been more than a slight distraction.
" He reached up and cupped my breasts, pressing them together.
His hands were hot against my skin. "Hmmmm.
" He sighed as he looked at my tits. "This ass, swaying seductively as you walk away from me.
Did you know you sway your hips even more when you're angry?
" He let go of my breasts and slapped his hands on my rear end, pulling me tightly to him.
I could feel the outline of his cock pressing against me, hard and insistent. "Did you think about me?"
"I thought of the gossip I'd heard about you." I couldn't even look him in the eye. The heat of embarrassment flushed on my cheeks, and I wanted to run into another room and never come out. Why had I said that?
"Enlighten me." There was a lightness to his voice that I could almost mistake for laughter.
"You were supposed to be horrifically scarred from all your battles, every inch of your body covered in tattoos, that your size would intimidate most men, and…" I let my voice trail off.
"And?" I couldn't say it, I couldn't look at him and talk about his dick. The same dick that had been buried in me only an hour ago. "And?" He growled, pressing his leg between my thighs, making me almost sit on his leg. The pressure was exquisite, maddening.
"The most dangerous weapon you possess is between your legs," I quickly whispered, shutting my eyes tightly. How embarrassing, I couldn't even say it out loud. His laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off the windows and reverberating on the large stone fireplace.
Moving his hand to my chin, he tipped my head up to look at him, and I involuntarily opened my eyes.
"It's definitely in the top five weapons I use, but that’s exclusively yours now.” He whispered in my ear.
He stepped back, lifted his arm, and removed his cuff links.
They were gold, catching the lamplight, and he held them out to me, dropping them in my hands.
Ornate roses, I wanted to study the intricacy of them, but I didn't think now was the time.
Moving quickly, I set them on the table beside me.
Nico removed his suit jacket and let it drop to the floor before slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, revealing a chest covered in ink.
There were flesh-colored areas, but he was mostly fully tattooed.
Religious imagery, Italian script, symbols I couldn't immediately identify.
I didn't notice horrific scars like I had been told, so some of the gossip was wrong.
He reached for his belt and pulled it off as he had done earlier, then let his pants fall to the floor.
My eyes trailed down his chest, over the defined muscles of his abdomen. I bit the corner of my lip, and I froze when I saw he was wearing no underwear. "Oh." I heard it come out of my mouth, as my breath hitched in my lungs.
"Oh? That's all you have to say?" He took a step toward me, and I pressed my lips together, unable to look away from his weapon.
"That won't fit." I didn't even try to hide my shock. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head, and before I knew what I was doing, I was pointing at it. Pointing at his cock. I'm twenty-two years old, and I was behaving like an immature child. Oh god, can I just die?
"It fit once; it will again." He reached out and grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me to him.
Lifting my hands, I put them on his bare chest to prevent me from slamming into him.
His chest was rock hard and warm. The heat radiating off him was intoxicating.
Did someone suck all the oxygen out of the room?
Was he having trouble breathing? His cock was pressed against my stomach, and even though I wasn't a virgin anymore, this was all new.
Sliding my hands up his chest, I moved them over his neck and up into his hair.
The strands were soft between my fingers.
He pulled away from me. "Go shower, amore, clean up, and I've had something laid out for you to wear.
" His words were soft, almost affectionate, but the grip he held on my ass was anything but.
His fingers dug into the soft tissue, and he rubbed himself against me.
I couldn't stop the moan, and my eyes fluttered closed.
He turned me and pointed me toward the bathroom.
"I'll be waiting." He said before running his tongue from my ear to my shoulder. The wet heat of it made my knees weak.
Closing the door to the bathroom, I leaned against it and let my head fall back.
Taking a deep breath, this was the first time I'd felt like I was in control today.
Earlier, it was my father; now it was Nico, but here, I was the boss.
Turning on the shower, I waited for the steam to build before stepping in and letting the water wash away the day.
The smell of the excessive hairspray the stylist used filled my nose as the water ran over my head.
The chemical scent mixed with the steam.
Turning, I saw my hair products and body wash had been transferred to his bathroom.
Grabbing one, I realized it was full. It was new, and I thought back to the list he had me fill out the morning after he'd brought me home.
What did it say about me that I didn't even blink while filling out that list?
I'd lost track of time, waiting for the water to cool down, but it never did. The house had endless hot water, another luxury I wasn't used to. Rinsing off the last bits of our earlier escapades, I turned off the shower and reached for the towel at the door of the spacious area.
The house I grew up in was outdated, and we didn't have anything this opulent.
We had one showerhead, not a wall of them, and the plastic curtain around the tub had seen better days, but that didn't matter anymore.
I lived in a mansion, away from the terror of my father, away from the constant worry I would be caught dealing with family business.
Wiping the mirror, I finally had an opportunity to look at the bruise on my cheek.
It was painfully purple, and it hurt to smile.
The skin was tender and swollen. Dabbing some vitamin E cream on it hopefully would prevent a scar.
Looking to my left, I saw a black lace garment.
This must have been what Nico wanted me to wear.
Picking up, I gasped when I saw that the entire thing was made of see-through lace.
I'm not sure why I was shocked; he'd gotten me naked twice in the short time we'd been married.
Slipping it over my head, the lace felt almost like silk falling to my ankles.
The thin satin straps lay perfectly on my narrow shoulders, and I couldn't help but look at myself in the mirror. It was sexy, but tasteful.
Taking one last deep breath, I opened the door and stepped into Nico's room.
He was propped up on the bed with a book in his hands and glasses perched on his nose.
The lamplight cast shadows across his face, highlighting his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones.
My stomach fluttered, and a warmth spread between my legs.
He'd looked incredibly handsome this afternoon, but now, here, in his bed, reading, he was a god.