19. Valeria
VALERIA
“Another one!”
The champagne bubbles float straight to my head as I give a wide smile. “The other eight dresses were also fine.”
On the long, sage green couch across me, Lacey and Mei boo.
Alessia holds her champagne flute aloft in a toast. “Fine is not acceptable for a Matassa wedding. It must be perfection.” She takes a swig. “Plus, I don’t like the way that shade of white is washing you out. You look seasick.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Lacey chimes in from Mei’s lap. “But if you don’t try on another dress, we don’t get to keep drinking champagne.”
“Yeah, come on,” Mei cheers. “Do it for us!”
Ruth watches all of this from the corner of the couch with a tipsy smile and an empty glass. Alessia came in, stomped all over Ruth’s wedding plans and said she was taking over, but truth be told, I think Ruth’s relieved not to have the entire responsibility of a mob wedding on her hands.
“Alright, alright,” I say, waving off the rabble. “Just one more.”
The women outside the dressing room chant just one more, just one more as I slide the curtain closed.
I undress quickly, grateful that Alessia kicked out the boutique owner with what sounded like a sizable bribe, so we could have the whole place to ourselves.
I’m already wearing one of the cream lingerie sets that Alessia and I picked out yesterday, and when the dress drops from my body, I can’t help but stare.
I look really good.
I’ve never been self-conscious about my body—besides a brief period of hating it intensely in high school which is practically a horrible teen girl rite of passage—but now, in the soft dressing room lighting and my heels on, I feel like a goddess.
I understand now why Dad would take Mom on shopping trips after each of their fights. The feel of new clothes, the quiet murmur of luxury from the boutique, it’s all convincing me that I’m powerful. I’m important.
I wonder what Nico will say when he sees me in this.
I turn away from the mirror to pick up the next dress and pull it on.
I’m not supposed to care about this, right?
I’m supposed to be searching for a suitable replacement for myself—something I haven’t thought about seriously since the engagement party. Everything has been too chaotic, and now Alessia’s keeping me busy with wedding planning.
And, I don’t know—every time I wake up to Nico’s gentle, sleeping face or open the fridge to see a new sweet treat that he’s brought me, I don’t want to do anything that could burst this bubble.
Something’s changed.
Lacey and Mei can see it. They share knowing little glances every time I mention Nico in passing.
Alessia took me aside and said I should forgive her brother’s many, many flaws, which she then listed and ticked off on her fingers—reckless, annoying, callous, too soft, bad fashion sense, truly exasperating, bad listener, punitive, irritating—because once I got past those, she promised me there wouldn’t be a man alive who would love me as fiercely and loyally as Nico would.
She said she’d never, ever seen him look at a woman the way he looked at me, which made prickles of electricity race across my skin and bury in the center of my chest. She then made me swear under punishment of death never to repeat any of her compliments to him.
I tie up the dress as best as I can by myself and turn toward the mirror again.
I see now what Alessia was saying about the last dress washing me out, though I still don’t understand how she can detect that so easily, especially as tipsy as she should be.
The dress I have on now makes me feel like a cherub has thrown a net of pearls and diamonds onto me. It’s a simple splendor, with off-the-shoulder details and a smooth, skin-tight bodice that spills into a fluffy princess skirt. I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life.
In the privacy of the dressing room, I lift my hair, imagining what it might look like in a chignon, with earrings and a necklace, as I walk down the aisle. To Nico.
He’d wear a tuxedo, tattoos peeking out from his collar and sleeves. And he’d look at me like no one else in the world existed.
The way he looks at me makes me think anything could be possible.
I pull open the curtains, and my ladies cheer.
“Oh my god!” Lacey says, clapping her hands over her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. Mei wraps an arm around her, and they touch their heads together.
“You look beautiful,” Mei says.
I accept the compliment with a smile.
Alessia stands and gestures for me to step onto the pedestal in front of the couch. “Let’s see it in its full glory.”
Just as I step onto the pedestal, something slams against the boutique doors.
Lacey and Mei scream, before bursting into champagne-drunk giggles.
Alessia dives for her purse. “Stay there, I’ll check.”
I spot the glint of metal in her purse as she walks to the boutique doors, where curtains have been drawn for our privacy. She flicks one of the curtains back with the end of her gun and relaxes.
“It’s just Nico!” she calls over her shoulder.
Just Nico has my pulse racing. I know we teased about bad luck, but we’ve had enough of that, haven’t we? I don’t want to risk anything.
Alessia flicks her fingers in my direction. “Go hide yourself.”
I gather my skirts, scurry into the dressing room, and snap the curtain shut.
I hear the doors open and Alessia and Nico talking in hushed voices. My body heats at the sound of his low rasp.
“Show’s over, ladies!” Alessia says. “Let’s let these two catch up, and they can join us for lunch after. My treat!”
The curtains part, and Lacey’s head peeks through, her cheeks flushed red. “You look seriously beautiful. You always have.”
I smile. “Are you trying to make me cry?”
She grins. “Maybe. See you soon.”
Sounds of movement and happy chatter float through the boutique before the door shuts.
I exhale in the complete silence.
I wait for a long time, my skirts in my fists and my heart in my throat.
Is Nico just past the curtain? Is he imagining what I look like?
I should get out of this ridiculous dress. We seriously don’t need any more bad luck.
“You can come out now,” Nico says.
“I can’t,” I shout, smiling. “It’s bad luck.”
“Come out, Valeria.” His voice sounds different.
My thoughts go to the worst—blood, he’s been hurt, something’s wrong.
I jerk open the curtains and step through.
Nico’s dressed in the all-black suit he wore for the engagement party, his arms spread wide across the headrest of the couch with an ankle propped up on his knee. When our gazes clash, his darkens like a stormy sky.
He looks okay, physically, at least.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
Rows of mannequins in bridal gowns watch us, silent as if they’re holding their breath.
“Just came by to see my blushing bride,” he says, but he sounds off. Cold. He’s frowning. “Come stand on the pedestal.”
I cross my arms over my chest. The boutique feels so empty with just the two of us. “Why are you upset?”
He tilts his head back. “Get on the fucking pedestal, Val.”
I march over to the pedestal, pick up my skirts, and step onto it. I stay silent, meeting his gaze with a sullen look.
He wants a fight, but I’m not going to give it to him. We’re past that.
“You like the dress?” he asks. He rises from the couch and takes measured steps over to me.
I stare forward, my hands buried in my skirts, as he walks a slow circle around the pedestal.
“Val.”
“Yes.”
His shoe clicks against the platform behind me, and I can’t stifle the shiver that rolls down my spine when the presence of his body weighs against my back. “I don’t. Take it off.”
“If you think you’re going to stick your dick in my mouth after acting like this, I’m going to bite it off.”
His breath puffs against my neck as he exhales a soft laugh. “Take it off, Valeria.”
I uncross my arms and yank at the dress—it was barely hanging on anyway with my shitty tie. It pools at my feet in a giant puffball of fabric.
Nico’s hand appears at my side, palm up. “Step out.”
“No.”
“Do it, or I make you.”
I take his fucking hand, and he leans down to pull the dress out of the way, slinging the expensive fabric to the floor of the boutique.
“Look,” he says, turning me toward the full-length mirrors.
He’s not wearing the look of adoration I was tricking myself into imagining. I turn my head, and he wraps his fingers around my jaw, swiveling my face back toward our reflection.
I see myself, dressed in white straps and lace, legs long and strong in my heels. Nico’s hand circling my jaw. He stares at us too, his eyes intense and focused.
“What do you see?”
“I see a man who’s letting his temper ruin what was becoming a good thing.”
“A good thing?” Nico’s fingers squeeze against my jaw, almost to the point of pain.
My lips part, but I don’t make a sound.
“You thought what we had was a good thing?”
“I did.” I glare at him through the mirror.
Nico laughs. He kisses the side of my neck, and I swallow a gasp at the sensation.
“Don’t lie to me,” he whispers.
I try to face him, but his arms wrap around me, the muscle hard as steel. “Why would I lie to you?”
His gaze is hard in the mirror. “Your dad or brother. Salvatore. Giovanni. It doesn’t matter really. Just know however much they pay you, I’m the one that owns you.”
I go to stomp on his foot with the point of my heel, but he shifts out of the way and lifts me into the air, carrying me to the couch where he flings me onto the cushions.
I bounce, my teeth rattling, and then he’s on me again, pinning my wrists against the couch.
“Nico!” I scream, but my shout is muffled by his mouth.
His body—familiar and strange now—presses against mine, his thigh thrusting a heavy weight between my legs.
He pulls away just as quickly, his pupils blown and his chest heaving. “Why would you try to leave?”
He kisses me again, and there’s so many conflicting sensations that my brain can’t make sense of it all.
“We had a deal,” he murmurs against my lips before licking into my mouth and swallowing my shouts.
When he pulls away, I’ve had it.
I knee into his balls—his pained groan turns into a dark chuckle.
“Enough, Nico, if you fucking kiss me again, I will leave.”
It’s like I’ve broken through a trance. His grip on my wrists loosens. The tension drives out of his whole body.
“So, it’s true,” he asks in an ominous tone.
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about, but I promise if you touch me again, I’ll make sure your worst fear becomes reality.”
Desperation crosses his face. “Who gave you the money?”
“What money—”
I freeze underneath him, and he glowers.
He found my duffel bag of cash.
“I can explain.”
He drops close. “I don’t care, Val. I just want to know who.” He shoves his face into the nape of my neck, and I can’t fight the roll of arousal at being trapped under his muscular body.
“Tell me, pretty girl,” he says and sucks at my neck.
“No one,” I gasp.
“Don’t lie to me.”
He sucks hard—I know he’s leaving a mark there—but I’m powerless to stop him when it feels so good. Without thinking, I roll my hips against his thigh.
“I’m not lying.” This is so fucking wrong. He keeps ruining everything, poisoning any happiness I feel toward him with his shitty behavior, and now he’s making it worse by making me feel so good.
Nico raises his head, passing his mouth over mine—but not kissing me—and drops his face to the other side of my neck and sucks there too.
He’s leaving his fucking marks all over me.
“Nico—ah—that’s my m-money. I earned it.”
He crushes his thigh between my legs until I see stars and raises his head to look at me. With one hand, he grips my wrists together, and with the other, he cradles my face. “What was the money for, then?”
“It was for a down payment. For a house or an apartment.” His thumb traces over my lower lip as I talk. “I had to keep it in cash so my family wouldn’t steal it. You know that.”
“I just know what you tell me. People lie,” Nico says bitterly, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “I don’t know anything for certain. Only that I love you, Val.”
I gasp, and he drops his mouth to mine, finally kissing me. I kiss him back just as hard, needing release as I slide against his thigh and strain against his strong hand.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my mouth.
For what? For kissing me when I told him not to? For being a fucking dick instead of addressing the money with a normal conversation? Or for working me into a frenzy, tormenting me with this overwhelming arousal that only he can relieve?
I’m not done being mad at him.
“I hate you, Nico,” I lie to hurt him, even as my heart crumples.
He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s been slapped in the face, but I’m too sick of him and his temper to care.
“I’m going to hate you no matter what.”
“Liar,” he whispers and kisses me. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to keep you safe, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You’re the only one who hurts me.”
He kisses me and moans into my mouth. “That’s right, pretty girl. I’m the only one.”
My face heats with hot shame as I whisper my desire, “Make me come.”
His free hand drops to his belt and snaps it loose. “I’m going to make you love me.”
I turn my face to the side, my eyes welling with tears. “You won’t,” I whisper, even as my legs spread and my heart feels like it’s breaking for him.
He pulls my panties to the side and aligns himself at my entrance.
I’m so wet for him.
“I will,” he whispers against the side of my face. “I’m going to make you happy.”
“You can’t.”
But the pleasure at his cock filling me says otherwise. His scent curling into my lungs feels like coming home. His tongue sliding against mine is the only thing I want.
He ruts into me with a strong, sure pace, like he wants me to feel his every stroke.
“I’m going to love you with my last breath,” he murmurs against my ear.
I gasp, fighting the orgasm and losing, sucked under the inevitable pull like a shard of glass ripped under a wave.
“Nico.”
“That’s right, pretty girl. Come for me. Come all over your husband’s cock.”
He talks me through it, never breaking his rhythm, filling my ear with an endless stream of pretty girl and who’s a slut for her husband and I love you, Valeria.
Then he’s coming too, and I squeeze my legs around his hips, flexing around him as he grows even thicker and spills his seed into me.
When we’re both spent, he drapes himself over me for what feels like hours, and murmurs to me how much he loves me, as I stare up at the ceiling and wonder how I can love a man who doesn’t even know what love is.