Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Cormac
The taste and touch of Arianna’s lips on mine lingers even after we leave the church and go to the reception hall held in an old, historic hotel.
The place is beautiful but inside, all I feel is cold confusion because the last thing I can enjoy is kissing the woman I am now married to.
An Italian who’s family belongs to the mafia.
I can’t have feelings for her.
And yet, when I look into her soft, innocent eyes, all I can think about is how I want to hold her. How I want to kiss her again and deepen it this time.
My body responded on instinct when she fell and I caught her. I didn’t even think. It was just the thing that had felt right in the moment. A part of me wants to hold her again but I know she’ll never allow it. Not after I kidnapped her. Not after I threatened to hurt her.
I shouldn’t feel bad. I was doing what I believed was right. So why do I have this pit in my stomach?
Fuck.
Since the wedding is small, the reception hall is not that large. A smaller sized ballroom. Big enough to allow our guests to dance and eat but small enough to feel intimate. Except, none of our guests are dancing. No one looks happy to be here, other than a few of my father’s friends who came.
“You two should dance,” Patrick advises. “It’s customary.”
Holding Arianna in my arms again…
Without thinking, I hold my hand out to her and after a moment, she takes it.
She fits perfectly in the crook of my arms. But she shouldn’t. Not when I hate her uncle. Not when I tried to hurt her. None of this should be happening and yet, it is.
“You can dance,” Arianna says, shock in her voice.
“It’s not hard. It’s just following the beat of the song.”
“I just didn’t know you could dance.”
“You thought you were the only one?”
She blushes and it makes me want to kiss her all over again. The small peck at the altar was not enough. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“I was never formally taught how to dance. It’s just…
natural, I guess.” I lead her across the dance floor as our families watch.
Her parents glare in my direction. My father glares at me too, probably making sure I don’t fuck this up.
Marco’s expression is cold. Only Ciara is the one who looks different – worried.
Though I’m not sure if it’s worry for me or Arianna.
“I’ve been dancing since I was three,” Arianna tells me of her own accord.
“It shows. You’re a great dancer.”
“Thank you.” A small little smile plays on her lips. Fuck, I want to kiss her again. What is wrong with me? This woman has gotten under my skin and I can’t make sense of it.
“What do you enjoy doing?” she asks tentatively.
“Like for hobbies?”
“Yes.”
I sigh and my hand slides lower on her back. Her eyes widen before I raise it high again. “I like working out.”
“Oh. It shows.” Her eyes dart to my arms and away.
I can’t help but smirk. “Thank you. I work hard at it. I like playing video games but I haven’t had the time to play. It’s been… years, I think.”
“So is it really a hobby then if you haven’t done it for a long time?”
“Fair point. I also like to read.”
Her eyes widen. “You read?”
“You sound shocked.”
“You just don’t seem like the kind of person who reads.”
“Are you judging me on my appearance?”
“No. On the way you act.”
I flinch. “I deserved that. What kind of people do you think readers are?”
“Soft, kind people.”
“Readers can be like anybody in this world. Good, bad, and everything in between. I like to read. Ever since I was a kid.”
“You’re right,” she murmurs. “So… what kind of books do you like to read?”
“Mostly non-fiction. History stuff.”
“I like reading novels. Romance.”
“Of course you read romance.”
She stiffens. “Now who’s judging who?”
“You’re a woman. Women like romance.”
“Yes. A lot of women do. But I also enjoy reading horror novels. I also enjoy reading historical fiction. I don’t just read romance.”
“Fine,” I grit out. This is not going how I wanted. Well, none of this is going how I wanted.
What I had wanted was to hurt Marco but that would have meant hurting Arianna and I couldn’t bring myself to do that.
“Fine,” she clips back.
We end our dance and sit down at our table. My father’s friends get on the dance floor and help liven the place up but mine and Arianna’s families still look miserable. No one is happy about any of this.
“I didn’t mean to judge you,” Arianna says in her soft voice as she picks at her food.
“Well, I did kidnap you. You have the right to judge me.”
“You hate me. You hate my family. There’s nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?”
The truth is: Arianna has already begun to change my mind. I just can’t say the words.
“I don’t… hate you,” I admit. “It’s your uncle I hate. But I don’t hate you. You’re innocent in this.”
“Yet, that didn’t stop you from kidnapping me.”
I sigh. “I know. And I deserve that. I deserve your hate.”
I can feel her looking at me but I don’t dare look back.
The rest of our meal passes by in silence. My father’s guests dance. Our families act cold to each other.
And then the party ends.
It’s time for Arianna to come home with me. To live in my apartment. It’s a strange, surreal sensation.
Her parents pull her into a hug as they all cry together.
My father stands beside me. “You’re doing the right thing, Cormac.
You are saving lives by doing this, including your own.
So don’t fuck it up. Don’t go after Marco again.
Just focus on your new wife. I want you back in my life, son. I am fighting hard to keep you alive.”
“I know. And thank you. For fighting for me. But I never asked you to.”
“Were you willing to die when Marco and Antonio took you? Tortured you? Were you?”
“In the moment, yes.”
He scoffs. “I don’t believe that. You were not letting your anger go. You didn’t want to die because then Marco would have won in your eyes. You never wanted to die. You just wanted to win. Well, this is your chance. You get a pretty wife. She’s sweet. It could be worse.”
“She’s Italian,” I grumble.
“Who the fuck cares? I made a deal with Marco because it was the best thing for us. Ciara found love with him. The boundaries between the Irish and the Italians is nothing any more. Let your anger go, Cormac. Let it go. Choose to be happy.” He walks away before I can say anything in response.
My father’s words ring in my head as I drive Arianna and I to my apartment. Who cares if she’s Italian? I care.
Or at least… I used to care. But every time I look at Arianna and take in her innocent, sweet eyes, all I can think is how pretty she is. How I want to truly kiss her. How I want to see her naked again.
But this goes against everything I believed in. Everything I fought for. I don’t know how to rectify that.
We arrive at my apartment building. “It’s the penthouse,” I explain, leading her to the elevator.
“It’s a luxury building.” She looks around in awe. “Very beautiful.”
“Well, I can afford it. Your father has money, doesn’t he? I saw the house you grew up in.”
“When you came to kidnap me.”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” I ask once we’re in the elevator.
“It’s hard,” she admits. “I hate you. I hate what you did to me and yet… I’m married to you now. I don’t want to hate you. And for some reason, I don’t feel like I hate you as much as I should. None of it makes sense.”
I feel the same way and yet, I can’t get the words out.
The elevator opens up into my apartment. The first thing Arianna does is go over to the view overlooking the city below. Since it’s nighttime, the city is lit up, giving it a soft glow.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs.
I find myself looking at her. “It is.”
Her eyes flick to mine and she blushes. “What do we do now?”
“It’s our wedding night.” My voice comes out lower than I mean it to.
“Does that mean… we have to have… sex?”
“That’s usually what it means.” I would love to fuck Arianna, honestly. I’m sure it would be a great time… for me. But I can see the fear on her face. It wouldn’t be a good time for her.
“We don’t have to,” I say.
“We don’t?” Her innocent eyes widen. “But I thought…”
“We were forced into this marriage. We don’t have to have sex. I told you I wouldn’t rape you when I first… kidnapped you. I won’t rape you now.”
“But we’re married. Is it rape then?”
I huff. “You clearly don’t want it. I can see it on your face. I’m not going to rape you, Arianna. But if I’m being honest…”
“What?” she whispers.
“I want to touch you,” I admit.
“But you hate me.”
“I already told you –,”
“That you don’t hate me. But still. Why would you want to touch me? You can’t stand that I’m Italian.”
I could tell Arianna it’s because of her eyes or her body or the way my body lit on fire when I kissed her at the altar. But I can’t get any of it out. “Because I’m a man. I like sex. It is what it is.”
Her open expression closes off again and she steps away from me. “Oh. Right.”
“I’m fine having sex. But you don’t want it. So… We don’t have to. I’m not going to force you. In fact, it would be better if we slept in separate rooms. I have a guest room.”
“But I’m not a guest. I’m your wife.”
“But you don’t want to be my wife. Am I wrong in that?”
She shakes her head. “No. You’re not wrong.”
“Exactly. Let’s just sleep in separate bedrooms. It’s the least I can offer you after I… kidnapped you.” Shame flits through me. It’s really an annoying emotion.
Right before my very eyes, Arianna breaks down into tears. It’s so sudden that it startles me.
“Why are you crying?” I ask. “I thought you’d be happy I won’t touch you.”
She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she only cries harder.
“Stop,” I command but that doesn’t change anything. “You don’t need to cry. I won’t touch you.” A flare of annoyance hits me. I was trying to be a good man and do the right fucking thing.
But still… Arianna won’t stop crying.
It makes something soft move through me. The urge to comfort her hits me in the gut.
Before I can stop myself, I pull her into my arms, just holding her. Arianna stiffens for a moment but then relaxes as her crying dies down.
She doesn’t say anything and neither do I.
I don’t let her go. I can’t get my arms to move. It’s like I don’t want to let her go. What is happening to me?
We stay like that, me holding her to my chest, for a long time.