Chapter 20 Dante
DANTE
“Ruby!” I toss my weapon aside and run towards my shaking wife, who is on her knees before Giovanni’s dead body.
The fear and adrenaline pulse through my limbs. Thank god that I had the idea of the wives joining us for this meeting, and that Marco agreed. Otherwise, fuck. My wife would be dead right now, not my treacherous second-in-command.
She looks up with eyes full of tears, and starts babbling something about trust and Giovanni.
“Are you hurt?” I try to interrupt, while also checking around us for anyone else who might be involved.
Some of my men have come running at the sound of the gunshot.
I’m on my knees on the ground with Ruby, trying to understand what Ruby is talking about, calm my own out-of-control heartbeat, and throw commands over my shoulder to my men about securing the perimeter.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Tears slide down her cheeks as I touch her arm and try to find where she’s injured since she won’t tell me.
I can’t feel any injury.
“You didn’t hesitate,” she says, as though that was a possibility.
“You were in danger. I’ll never stop if you’re in danger, tesorina,” I reply firmly.
“I thought you’d… Because Giovanni is so loyal…”
“He was raising a gun at you,” I say. I don’t know why he did this, but that’s a question for after Ruby is safe and content. “He was dead to me the moment he tried to hurt you.”
“You chose me?” She sounds a bit stunned, and heaves a sob.
“Of course I chose you. Tesorina, come here.” I gather her to me awkwardly, because she’s all legs and arms folded in to protect herself. But I manage, and my stress reduces with her proximity. “You’re my wife.”
“I’m sorry,” she says into my shirt, attempting to hide, and none of this makes sense. “Maybe Giovanni was right.”
“About what?” I stroke her hair and try to tip her face to look at me, but she stubbornly keeps her face down.
She shakes her head slowly and continues to cry. I bring my hand to her cheek, trying to see her and understand. As quickly as I wipe away the tears, there are new ones to take their place. And as much as her heart is obviously breaking, mine is too.
“Ruby.” I make my voice deeper. Commanding.
“It doesn’t matter. The annulment will come through soon and then you’ll be rid of me.”
My forehead creases as her words sink in. And suddenly, I know that whatever I told myself about only keeping her close and protected, that will never be enough. Not just for me, but for her.
I tighten my fist in her hair. “I haven’t signed the annulment.”
She finally looks up at me. Her eyes are pink. Her hair is all over the place. Her face is a bit blotchy from crying, and she’s distinctly soggy.
She’s perfect. Beautiful.
“But…” She trails off, confused.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not going to annul our marriage. I was never intending to.”
An expression of complete confusion overtakes her face, as though I’ve told her I’m an alien made of cheese.
“Why not?” she asks in a small voice.
Weightlessness lifts me, like when you realise your shot was fatal. A life-changing—ending—moment. It’s heady with power and consequences.
“I want you to be my wife. I choose you.”
“But I’m such a crappy wife,” she splutters.
“What?” I scowl, because that’s absurd.
She cringes away. “I’m so useless at being your wife. I’ve been trying, but I know I’m—”
I grab her chin, and force her to look me in the eyes.
“Who made you think that?” The words come out with all the sinister promise of “Who hurt you?”. I will tear whoever did this to her limb from limb.
“It’s just a fact! I read about what it takes to be a good wife, and I can’t seem to do any of it!”
My jaw falls open in utter shock. For a second my brain refuses to comprehend something so unexpected.
Then I get it.
“You don’t need to be perfect, or good, or anything other than yourself,” I enunciate carefully, holding her chin tight so she can’t look away. This is like jumping out of an aeroplane, praying that your parachute works. “Because I love you.”
She stills in my arms. “You love me?”
“Yes.” I look down into her brown eyes that I will never tire of looking at, and nothing matters except her. My grip tightens on her jaw. “Do you love me?”
Panic flits across her face, then she whispers the words I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear. “Yes. I love you too.”
It’s my turn to shake now, as emotion overtakes me.
“That’s all you need to do to be my perfect wife, Ruby. Love me, and don’t let go. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” And god, I came so close today.
“I wanted to be good for you,” she whispers again.
We’ve been such idiots. I had no idea.
“You were always good,” I tell her, and feel her relax slightly. “I love you. I think I loved you from the moment you fell into my arms.”
“Ran into you…” she corrects me, a smile beginning to light her eyes.
My head spins, then there’s absolute clarity.
I need her. She’s mine.
“Fuck it.”
Her gasp is the last thing I hear through the blood pounding in my head, and I kiss her.
I kiss her with all the desperate longing in my soul.
All the love that I’ve repressed and denied.
I’m holding her neck so she can’t get away even as she kisses me back with the hunger and enthusiasm I’ve dreamed she might have for me. Equal to mine for her.
We kiss, and kiss, and it’s messy and wet from her tears, and there’s probably blood on our clothes. I need my tongue in her mouth, and everything is angles and unwanted space between us.
Part of me would really, really like to fuck my beautiful wife over the dead body of a man who tried to separate us.
But that’s messed up, and although maybe she’ll get to my level of insanity, for her first time, Ruby deserves more.
A bed, sweet words, comfort. Orgasms. Being absolutely railed without risking interruption or infection.
I scoop her up and lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist as I kiss her and hold her as close as I can as I walk away from the corpse of my past and to our bedroom to consummate our marriage.
To ensure that Ruby knows thoroughly that I’m hers, and she’s mine, and I’ll never let her go. She never has to doubt me.
I kick the door shut behind us and she grasps at my clothes, and I tear at hers.
My hands shake as I push her jeans down and tug them off her ankles. My cock has risen to the occasion, and pushes against the zipper of my trousers. And when Ruby’s inexpert hands fumble, I groan. But I keep caressing her perfect little arse, holding her snug to me.
It’s as though my body has decided the only thing that matters is her being closer, then closer still.
I want to be inside her, of course I do, but I can’t manage to stop touching her or dragging her against me.
And when my hands finally touch her bare skin, I’m wild. She’s so incredibly soft, and her stroking my chest and gripping my arms is unbelievable.
Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here.
I toss away her knickers with far more haste than the cute little white cotton deserves—I’ll admire her in her underwear soon—and tumble us onto the bed.
We end up with me half on top of her, one of my knees between her soft thighs.
I’d like to kiss every part of her, but the need to claim her is all-consuming.
It’s light. Finally. Before today, all our kisses and the times I’ve made her come have been in the dark. I’m going to see how her face shows her bliss.
She’s stroking my shoulder with one hand, and reaches down between us for my cock—her small hand a shock of pleasure on the head.
“Ruby,” I gasp out, and she smiles. Her tears are gone, her eyes clear, and a flicker of confidence is growing.
I groan.
“I want you to explore, but you have to know, I won’t last if you…” My brain short-circuits as she closes her fingers around my length.
I have her underneath me, her hands pinned on either side of her shoulders in a blink.
“One day, soon, I’ll let you play and torture me all you want, wife.”
Her eyes go wide as I use that word.
“My wife,” I repeat deliberately. “I need to make you mine, Ruby. In a way that neither of us, nor anyone else, will mistake.”
“Dante…”
She makes a needy little sound from the back of her throat. The top of my thigh brushes her sex, and we both moan.
“I want nothing between us. Have you thought about babies, Ruby?”
I hold my breath. It’s fine. If Ruby doesn’t want kids, I’ll manage. Italians don’t have to have big families. It would be nice to give my wife a baby or five, but all I really need is Ruby.
“Yes.” She gives a little nod.
“What did you think, wife?”
She shivers and arches up towards me. “I thought about you getting me pregnant. And how much I’d like that. How proud I’d be to be your pregnant wife.”
“I need that too.” My chest heaves like I’m running a marathon. “I need to fuck you raw until you’re overflowing with my come, and then watch you as you’re pregnant with my child. My good girl. My perfect little wife.”
I kiss her hard, even as my body clamours for more.
“I love you so much, tesorina,” I say, pulling my head away, panting. “Are you wet for me? Or do I need to hold you down and lick you until you scream and thrash as you come?”
“Please. Now.” She writhes against me, trying to get friction just as she did all those times I caught her rubbing her thighs together, and that’s all the answer I get.
“Open your legs wide for me.” I rasp the order, and she obeys immediately. She’s looking up at me with the sort of awe that’s reserved for gods, stars, and really good cheese.
Her trust is so precious.
I move so the length of my cock rests on her seam, and it’s like firecrackers as I’m coated with Ruby’s slick desire. “My good girl, you’re soaking wet for me.”
“You’re so big,” she whimpers.
“Are you going to be my good wife and take all of this fat cock?” I roll my hips so she can feel my size. And she’s tiny. She’ll be a tight fit, but we’ll be perfect together.
“I want to be a good wife to you, Dante,” she breathes.