Chapter 10
DANTE
There’s utter silence. Disbelief.
My brain has short-circuited.
After weeks of me following—alright, stalking—Ruby, she appears in front of half the London Mafia Syndicate and claims we’re married.
And if I’m dreaming, fine, I’m making the best of this moment and fucking my wife right now, before I wake up.
“Everyone leave,” I say, low and dangerous. My voice is dark with emotion. She’s so young, and seeing her surrounded by mafia men, her head tilted up bravely, makes me feral with protectiveness.
Against me. Against my world. She shouldn’t be here.
Giovanni takes one look at my face and barks orders to get cars, and get people into place.
“Clerkenwell, what about—” Westminster, the de facto leader of the London Mafia Syndicate, begins in his upper-class way.
“Later,” I snap. Literally, any time but now, when Ruby is here like all my most secret fantasies come true.
“Not you,” I add as Ruby’s eyes fill with tears and starts to turn on her heel.
I grab her hand and oh god, the physical contact with her makes me lightheaded as I drag her into the house. She doesn’t say anything, keeping pace with my long strides by taking double the number of steps.
For half a second I’m heading for the stairs to take her to my bed.
I come to my senses.
I don’t know why she thinks we’re married, because I’m very certain I’d remember our wedding.
So instead, I march her to my office.
How the hell did this girl look into my innermost private thoughts, and pluck out this? She’s really here. Her little hand in mine, so soft, and it fits right into my palm like two pieces of a jigsaw.
I shut the door behind us, and consider my options. There’s a sofa that looks out onto the garden, where I sometimes sit and think. But that feels dangerously intimate. I’ll have her on my lap in a second if we’re there.
Instead, I release her to pull up a chair in front of my desk, and she sits where I indicate.
Then I take my seat behind the desk and consider her in the silence. Questions I could ask flow into my mind. How are you? If you’re my wife, why aren’t you pregnant yet? How did you know I wanted you? Will you stay? Please, never leave me again, even if I tell you to.
Kiss me.
“What’s this about?” It comes out a bit abrupt.
“I got something in the post,” she says in a small voice, pulling a slightly crumpled document from her pocket and placing it before me.
My hands shake as I pick it up. I honestly don’t know what I’m praying for.
Ruby isn’t a liar. But did she find out that I’ve been watching her? How?
There has to be some mischief at play here. But as I pull the marriage certificate from the envelope, it’s entirely clear. This is all in English, and it’s not what we signed at the wedding. Ruby and I are listed as the bride and groom, and Francesca and her husband are the witnesses.
My heart does some sort of dance that I haven’t felt since I was a kid opening presents from under the Christmas tree.
She’s mine.
I stare at the simple piece of paper that has brought her to me in a way I could never have anticipated. I’m not hallucinating, and it does seem real.
I might never let it go. I’ll never let her go.
“I know you don’t want this,” she says hastily. “You were quite clear at the wedding.”
Oh fuck. Fuck my honour, and fuck whatever made me think I could be a good man. In particular, fuck the sentiment that I don’t want Ruby.
“I’m sorry about that night.” Just about ambiguous enough. “Where did this come from?”
“I didn’t make it up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she babbles.
Sweet girl. I wouldn’t mind if she had.
“Rest assured, I won’t take this as anything other than a random accident. And I swear I had nothing to do with it either.”
“It’s just so weird.” Her brow creases as she tells me the story of it arriving in the post, and finishes with a worried shrug.
“I wonder how it happened,” I ponder aloud, potential culprits running through my mind.
“Maybe it got mixed up when the certificate was being fixed after Alpi ripped it up? The priest was…”
“Shitfaced,” I fill in. But I don’t think it was him.
She snorts with reluctant laughter. “He was a bit tipsy.”
The sound of her voice and the recollection of how we kept that wedding on track—together—reopens the cavity in my chest I thought I’d sealed. We were a team, understanding each other and communicating without words.
And then I spoiled it all by pushing her away. I wish I had taken her up on the promise in her eyes, and the temptation of her unpractised kiss.
“I guess it was an accident. We can fix it,” she says.
My head snaps up. Fuck no.
“Get it annulled.” The joy in my heart that we’re married must not show on my face, as Ruby continues. “Or divorced. I’m never sure what the difference is, or why it matters.”
“Annulled means legally the marriage never occurred. Divorce is breaking a real marriage,” I reply numbly.
“Oh.” She swallows. “Probably annulment then.”
I nod, even as every part of me yells, no. I will never pretend this didn’t happen. The moments Ruby is my wife are precious.
“Yes.” The word is bitter and thorned, like eating a rose stem instead of admiring the petals. “But until then, you need to be my wife.”
Her face creases in confusion.
“You just announced to half of London’s most powerful mafia bosses that you’re my wife. The news will be all over London by now. They’re terrible gossips.”
Her eyes go wide, as though she’s surprised to find me casually discussing the mafia. “You’re really a mafia boss?”
Ah, yes. We skipped that detail, didn’t we? “I run Clerkenwell.”
She bites her lip.
“I didn’t tell you because…” I wished I wasn’t a man twice your age and with blood on his hands.
“You didn’t think you’d see me again,” she finishes.
I don’t reply. That’s true, but it’s far from the whole truth.
“I’m sorry about your… associates,” she says in a small voice. “You could tell them it’s a mistake?”
It’s not a mistake. Well. It is… And yet, I can’t stop this.
I want Ruby. I have an opportunity to have her, if I can just convince her. This can’t be that difficult. She wanted me. Didn’t she? She’s too young, she’s too innocent, being married into this family is a recipe for disaster. But one taste of Ruby as my wife, and I’m addicted.
“No. If my enemies find out you’re my wife, even temporarily, they’ll use you to get to me.
You’re in danger of kidnap.” From me. Subtle, manipulative kidnap.
Because she’s mine now. But this family is also far from immune to threats, and having learned that the hard way once, I won’t allow my enemies to get to Ruby.
She exhales sceptically. “I don’t think anyone is going to bother with me.”
“Nevertheless, you’ll need to stay here until this is sorted out,” I reply smoothly. This is too easy. Maybe it’ll take a long time to “fix”. Maybe forever.
“Here?” she squeaks. Her eyes are as big as saucers. “Like a… Fake marriage?”
I tilt my head. Not quite a nod, because that would be an outright lie. “For your safety, no one can know this isn’t a real marriage.”
“Just until we get an annulment?” she checks. “Then I go home?”
If Ruby makes the leap of logic that if it’s risky being my accidental wife then it would be equally precarious being my ex-wife, she doesn’t mention it.
“I’ll sort it out with your boss, you can stay here and enjoy yourself. There’s a pool, gardens, and you can work on your art.”
I’m making this up as I go along, but it sounds excellent to me.
“But I have to go to work!” she half-laughs.
“My wife doesn’t have to work in a hair salon unless she loves her job. I realise this is an inconvenience, but as my wife, you’ll have an allowance, say…” I pick a number a bit higher than anyone I employ. That feels right.
Her lips fall open in a perfect little “o” of surprise.
Yeah, I could have wifely duties for her mouth like that. So pretty and pink. Soft and wet.
“It’s… I… He’s joking,” she mutters under her breath. “What would we say to everyone?” she adds, looking at me.
I shake my head. “Nothing. No one deserves an explanation. I do what I want.”
Panic crosses her face. “What do I tell my mother?”
Right, yeah.
“We fell in love at the wedding, and impulsively got married. Love at first sight.” The simplest story is always the best, and if it also has a kernel of truth, that’s even better.
“But…” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Why didn’t we reveal the marriage before now?”
“You were drinking that evening, and I insisted you take some time to think it through.” That feels overly honourable, but I guess someone might believe it. Someone who’s never met me. “And I told you to come to me when you’d decided. And you really did.”
“Ahh.” She covers her face with her hands. “I’m sorry about that.”
I’m not. Without it this would be far trickier to convince her to stay, and the way I feel right now, with her near, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t lock her up.
Maybe I’ll commission excessive fan art to keep her busy, and persuade her with spectacular Italian food, kisses, orgasms, and an unlimited book budget that captivity is a good thing.
The knowledge Ruby will be under my roof soothes the “scratch my own skin off” restlessness I’ve been suffering with for the two months since we met. It’s going to be far better with her here, with me, safe.
“It’s okay. It wasn’t an ideal introduction to the London Mafia Syndicate. They’re usually more fun, actually. They call themselves the London Maths Club half the time.”
“And that’s fun?” She tilts her head in confusion like a puppy. “Less murderous, but… Maths? Fun?”
I snort with laughter. “Still murderous,” I admit. “They’re called the Maths Club because one of them got partway through saying London Mafia Syndicate and changed it because his wife didn’t know he was a kingpin.”
She grins. “That’s so silly.”
“They do have their moments. When you’re ready, you could meet the wives. I think they have a book club.”