Chapter 5 #2
She didn’t respond, and I wasn’t surprised.
She was already drained of the little energy she’d had.
She’d spent it all on gathering up the courage to go.
However, I was but a man, and I couldn’t avoid looking at how the gorgeous green dress skimmed along her body, covering her from top to toe with a deep slit that stopped short of a full hand above her knee.
When she crossed and uncrossed her legs, the slit taunted me.
Showing glimpses of her pale skin. Making my hands itch to ride beneath it, slip off the black lace thong she’d put on right before my eyes, and find her pussy.
Tonight. If she were up to it. But now definitely wasn’t the time for my dick to take control of my thoughts.
We were almost there. Her unconscious mind made her aware of it, and her back stiffened in response.
“Hey.” I took my hand off the gearshift and wrapped her clenched fist in mine.
“I’m so damn proud of you.” Her gaze shifted away from the window to mine.
Worry lined her forehead. I brought her fist to my lips and gave it a butterfly kiss.
Her mood had shifted. This morning, she’d woken up in high spirits and gathered up her courage, determined to make it to her brother’s wedding.
I’d thought she wouldn’t make it past an hour.
But I’d underestimated her. She’d gone through the entire preparation, got ready, and got into the car.
But now her courage was failing her, and her resistance was building up.
“It’s not worth it.” Disappointment tugged at her voice. “He’ll probably cheat on her within the week.”
I scoffed. “No chance.”
“He’s Carlo’s son,” she reasoned.
“You haven’t seen him with her, piccolo porcospino. He’s ready to start a war to have her.”
She nodded and collected her strength again. It lasted all of two minutes. We were almost at the gates, and her hand clutched mine in a death grip. “Stop.”
I braked instantly.
“I can’t do it,” she choked out.
She wanted my disappointment. I refused to give it to her. “Okay.” I put the car into reverse.
“No.”
I braked.
“Let’s go.”
My foot didn’t even touch the gas before she screamed out a panicked “no” again.
I didn’t get the time to react. She flipped the door open and rushed out. Cazzo. She was pushing past the shrubs and going into the woods. My veins filled with agitation as I dumped the car on the side of the road and took off after her.
I knew her usual spot, and that was exactly where I found her. She’d torn her dress in her hurry, but she paid no attention. All of it was on the party that bustled with champagne and happiness, and she looked at it, yearning to be a part of it.
Watching her struggle was the worst kind of pain.
I killed men for a living, but I was powerless to help her.
Silently, I encouraged her to make the move.
But it had to be her decision to do it. Not mine.
Not her family’s. My eyes skimmed the party.
Ada’s colourful garden was a spectacular backdrop for a wedding.
Everyone was outside. Soft jazz music played while the guests mingled.
Antonio, Vitale’s consigliere and Orietta’s cousin, was having a heated conversation with his wife.
It looked like he was going to get his way before his four-year-old daughter cut in and formed a human barricade between them.
It didn’t look like he was winning the argument.
Mother and daughter laughed at his expense.
Out of nowhere, the thought shifted in my mind to how we’d be with children.
Orietta would probably have them wrapped around her finger like she had me wrapped around hers.
Muttering a curse, Antonio turned around.
I would probably lose all the arguments, too.
He was about to walk away when his eyes fixed directly on Orietta’s.
His composure was impeccable. His gaze remained a poker face, and his walk didn’t falter.
He didn’t give her away. In her green dress, she could have melted into the background, but Antonio was never one to miss anything.
I shrugged off my coat hurriedly and wrapped it around her.
It had to be her choice. Let her be, I mouthed, although I wasn’t sure if he understood.
But he walked away and sat down next to a brooding Vitale, who had his eyes fixed on his bride.
It would get real uncomfortable if he told Vitale.
I didn’t want the don to seek his sister out.
Not when she wasn’t ready. But he understood the assignment.
Because they must have talked of something else.
Otherwise, the don would have looked our way.
The two seemed to hatch a plan. Lorenzo joined them, and without even realising it, I’d taken a step closer to my wife.
Had she not meddled, would he have married her?
It shouldn’t matter anymore, but cazzo, I was happy she’d been spiteful enough to do it.
A few tense moments passed, and it was obvious Vitale was goading him.
I took quiet pleasure in it because putting a don down was a luxury a mere soldier could not afford.
I was glad Vitale couldn’t stand him either and I revelled in watching him have his pissing contest with his brother-in-law.
If it weren’t for the common factor of the pink fluffy Di Matteo, those two might have had a wrestling match just for the fun of it, and I knew whose side I’d be on.
“She looks happy.”
My gaze followed my wife’s. Ada was hovering next to her new daughter-in-law. It was clear she was very protective of the girl. But then, she was protective of all her girls.
“She’ll be happier if she sees you.” I had no doubt about that.
Orietta didn’t hear me. Or she did but ignored me. She was in a world of her own, and I didn’t interfere, allowing her to take the time she needed to soak up everything.
“Do you think she’s happy?”
She watched Daria, standing next to her sister, predictably in a long pink dress.
“You should ask her yourself.”
She was quiet for a long time, watching her sister intently, guilt written all over her face. Then she sighed, and I felt it in my bones. Her shoulders dropped in resignation. “I can’t.”
Cazzo. I hated seeing her like this. I wanted to put a gun to everyone’s head and demand they tell her they are happy so my wife could let go of her guilt.
Of course, as a mere mortal, I couldn’t do any of it except help her out with a bit of gossip I’d caught from one of the men from New York.
“The men say the don is paying her rent.”
“What?” She glanced at me before looking for him in the crowd. “Lorenzo?”
I hate how his name sounded on her lips. Even if she’d chosen me. “He bought her a house, and he’s paying her rent or something.”
“But why is he paying her rent if he bought the house? Is it a mortgage?”
“Highly doubt the don needs a mortgage for anything.” I tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Apparently, your pink-ass sister wanted financial freedom, and he gave it to her by buying her a fucking house under her name and paying her so he can live in it.” Why the fuck were we talking about Lorenzo and all the stuff my wife could have had if she had married him?
She was quiet for a minute, and my insides twisted, wondering if she was regretting her choice of husband. Her shoulders shook, and my heart fell to the sodden earth below my shoes. Except all I heard was a very real and soft laugh. “Daria is fucking smart.”
“You don’t regret it?”
Her laugh melted away. “I yelled at her the last time she called. Told her off. I don’t even remember what. I didn’t mean any of it, but I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”
The don’s wealth wasn’t even on her radar. My chest uncurled in relief. “You won’t know if you don’t ask her.”
“Yeah…” There was enough hesitation in it for me to ask her.
“Do you want to get her?” I could have snatched her and brought her into the woods. Pissing off Lorenzo Martello by doing so was a bonus. But my wife was already shaking her head. A pity.
“Wow.” I followed her gaze to see Vitale joining his two sisters.
His bride stood with them, and I guess the don was done partying already because he obviously wanted to leave.
He yanked at her elbow, and she pushed back.
A heated argument broke out between them, and it was a sight to behold. The don not getting his way.
Wow indeed.
“He’s finally met his match.”
“I guess he has.”
“They are all so happy.”
“They’ll be happier to see you, piccolo porcospino.”
She was quiet for a moment before she answered. “I’m ready.” For a second, my heart constricted, thinking she was actually going to do it. Then she turned to me and said, “To go home.”
I wrapped my arm around her and tugged her close, kissing her forehead with a soft kiss, even though my heart was breaking for her. “Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry.”
I brushed it off and started to walk back. “Don’t be.”
She tugged at my hand, and I stopped. “You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be?”
The silly excuse she came up with was, “You got all dressed up.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “I am sure we can have more fun undressing.”
She stood unmoving. Undecided. She half turned to look behind her before she gave up and turned to me.
“We can stay here if you want?” I suggested. “Or go to the party.”
She shook her head sulkily. “I can’t. Not today.”
“Then it’s not today.” I tugged at her hand and brought her back to the car.
I was fucking proud of her, anyway. I’d not even expected her to get dressed.
But she’d done so much more than that when every task, every kilometre we got closer to the wedding had been a milestone for her.
I told her that all the way back home. I’d keep on telling her that till the day my heart stopped beating, hoping one day she’d believe it.
She already did a bit more than seven months ago.