Chapter 8
Before Enzo gets into his SUV, I hear him give orders to his men.
His voice is deep and commanding, sending a shiver down my back.
I still am in shock over what took place moments ago.
I was walking down the aisle to marry a man I hardly knew and did not want to marry.
To now married to another man. Ian’s blood has dried on my white dress and on my arms.
My mind keeps replaying the kiss. Oh my god, I let myself get caught up in his kiss.
My first kiss. His lips were soft against mine, and I felt my body come alive with need.
I opened my mouth more for him, letting his tongue into mine.
The kiss turned deeper. Turned rougher. I found myself with my hands gripping his jacket, pulling him into me.
His hand on the nape of my neck, holding me and controlling this kiss, controlling me.
His other hand around my waist. In that moment, I felt wanted and desired until reality came crashing in and I bit his fucking lip.
Though watching him chuckle and then smear it on my lips sent a direct line to my pussy, making her throb with need.
I should not feel any of this. My new husband just murdered the man I was set to marry today.
This man makes me want to run far away but at the same time, I want him to ruin my life and lock me away forever.
The door shuts, making me jump in my seat.
I keep my arms wrapped around my middle, scooting as close as I can to the door, looking out the window and trying to ignore my new husbands presence.
It’s almost impossible to not ever since the night I met him all those months ago at my party.
The way him being close to me sends shivers up and down my body.
His body heat makes me squeeze my thighs together.
Suddenly, I’m riddled with anger that cancels out my lust for my new husband.
I spin my head to look at him, and the words came spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“All of you mafia men are all the same. Taking what you want for yourselves without thinking how it affects others or the aftermath. Women are just an object with no opinions or some trophy to collect on your fucking mantle. All we are to be used for is to make an heir, well you’re insane if you thought I would let you touch me after what you have done. You killed him for––––––––”
He drags my finger gently down my face, and I try to smack his hand away.
“I have killed for much less.” My eyes are locked on his.
“If I recall you’re the one who pulled me in when the priest said I could kiss my bride.
You seemed to like my touch then.” I go to turn my head not wanting to look anymore at his handsome face and he catches my chin with his thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t ever put me into that category with men who don’t worship the women who are by their side.
My wife, you will always have a say and an opinion.
You are not an object or a trophy, you are my partner, my wife until my last breath I take on this earth. ”
My mouth is dry, letting his words sink in about how he sees this marriage. I nod my head, accepting what he has said and keeping my gaze on the city whipping past us.
I glance down to my new wedding rings. I would never tell the monster sitting next to me that its beautiful.
The tear- shaped blue sapphire in the middle is set with three diamonds on each side, paired with a matching gold band featuring the same diamonds.
The one Ian had given me felt more like a statement piece of jewelry rather than an engagement ring.
This one feels personal like it was picked or designed for one person.
It’s not flashy and doesn’t feel like I am being weighed down.
I fiddle with the rings, twisting it around my finger when Enzo’s deep voice stops me. “When I saw this ring, I knew it was the perfect one because the sapphire reminded me of your eyes.”
My focus is on the stone in the middle of my ring before I move my gaze to his left hand that is resting on his thick muscular thigh.
I did not even pay attention to what his looked like when Father Roberto was blessing the rings.
It’s a thick gold band that makes his tan skin glow, with blue sapphires throughout the ring and small, tiny diamonds in between.
Most men in this lifestyle refuse to wear their wedding rings because of the symbolism of being tied to one woman.
Almost every single man that I knew, including my father has a mistress or some have multiple and fund their lives.
We live in a man’s world and the mafia is very much a man’s world.
Enzo doesn’t speak a word to me the rest of the drive out of the inner part of the city.
I watch as the buildings, townhouses, stores pass us by all while debating how much it would hurt if I just open the door and throw myself out of the moving car.
I catch a glimpse of Enzo in the window and fight the urge to do so.
His head is bent down, typing on his phone.
I take a moment to really look at my new husband.
There is a little scruff on his face, but not too much to make him look not put together.
The slop of his nose meets the bow of his lip, the very ones that were on mine not too long ago.
His brow furrows with his jaw tight at something he is reading on his phone.
I tilt my head slightly as I see the tattoo peeking out of his suit.
It’s on his neck. I can see what looks like to be a skull with flames burning and it goes up to his ear.
My gaze travels to his hands, and I notice there is black ink poking out from his sleeves too.
I have a suspicion that my husband is covered from head to toe in tattoos.
Most men in my family have a tattoo or two, but nothing like Enzo’s.
My eyes are on his hands, trying to think of what the tattoo could be when he looks up to meet my gaze in the reflection of the window.
He holds my stare until he smiles and winks before going back to his phone.
Great, he caught me staring him. I go back to looking at anything but him through the window.
We did not speak for the rest of the drive, and I was fine with that.
The car starts to slow down as we approach what I assume is the Ricci home.
We pull up to the large black steel gates and his driver rolls down his window and presses a button under a video camera.
The gates open to a long driveway with lushes green grass and beautiful floral landscape leading up to the mansion.
It’s twice as big as my father’s which I did not think was possible.
My eyes take in the structure in front of me.
A three-story brick covered estate with the large black trim windows.
The black iron balcony in the middle on what appears to be the second floor is the main focal point.
Its beautiful. Not anything that I would have pictured.
The car stops and Enzo has placed his phone into his suit jacket inner pocket before the door opens for him.
He steps out, buttons his jacket before turning to give me his hand to follow him.
I stare at his hand with my mind yelling that if I just run fast enough I might…
might be able to escape. But the subconscious part of my mind knows that I will not even make it five steps without him catching me or even killing me like he did to Ian.
I cringe mentally that not even an hour or so ago I was standing next the man my father had chosen for me to marry to his blood covering me.
And now, I’m married to a completely different person who my father sold me off too.
“Isabella,” he says my name in a deep growl that breaks my mental inner dialogue with myself.
I blink a few times and don’t accept his hand to help me exit the SUV. I slide across the black leather seats in my dress, grab a handful of stained fabric on each side and wing my body to exit with some grace. He reluctantly dropped his hand, but I did not miss the tick in his jaw.
Once I’m fully out of the vehicle, I let go of the skirt of my dress in my hands. Enzo steps beside me, places a hand on my lower back and the surge of energy hits me again. I bite the inside of my cheek to focus on something other than my new husbands hand.
He leans forward, his lips lightly touching my ear and whispers, “Welcome home, wife.” He lingers before standing straight up.
Not a home. Just a new prison that is a slight upgrade from my previous one.