Chapter 14 Mia
MIA
I composed myself before joining the room again. Enrico had sealed my fate. He had taken my choice away. Honestly though, deep down I knew this was the only way it would end. The man was way too controlling to let me be with someone else.
My future husband stood on the opposite side of the room talking to his brother when Father Antonio stepped into the room. Many heads turned his way as he walked straight toward Enrico.
“Is it still happening tonight?” he asked.
“What is this?” I demanded, staring at my fiancee.
Enrico leaned close. “We’re making it official. No point in wasting time. The faster you are under my protection, the safer you’ll be.”
My pulse spiked. “I… I need a moment.”
He released my hand with surprising patience. “Take all the time you need.”
Maybe he could be sweet at times, but did that outweigh all the blood he’s had on his hands?
All the bloodshed I’d be linked to by last name after tonight?
This was insanity. At the edge of the room I tried to breathe.
Marrying him meant surrendering everything I’d ever fought to keep — freedom, anonymity, safety.
Yet when I met his eyes again, the same magnetic pull that haunted me for years came back.
He might go against everything I’d wanted for myself, but no man had made me feel the way he did.
Enough hesitation. He had made his claim in front of everyone, and I was now playing the part.
I returned to his side and slid my hand back into his.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the union of Enrico Di Fiore and Mia Moretti…”
I swallowed hard. Walking away now would doom my family.
“Are you sure you want me? Last chance.” I whispered.
Enrico’s gaze burned steady. “I’ve been sure since the first day I saw you.”
The room quieted under the weight of his conviction. Then, from the crowd, Catrina emerged.
“Enrico, a word.”
“Now?” he snapped. “We’re a little occupied.”
“This isn’t right.”
He turned, jaw tight. “Sister, stay out of it.”
Sister? Betrayal burned through me.
Father went on with the ceremony and I tried to put on a brave face but deep down, anger was seething. Was she only friends with me because of him? Now it made sense why she didn’t give me a lot of details about her family or background. The whole thing was just a game.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
His lips were on mine, and then the applause scattered through the room. It was official. I was Mrs. Di Fiore.
His hand crept down to the small of my back, guiding me through the parting crowd. He didn’t even let me stop to talk to my father.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he opened the door to the car waiting outside.
“Home.”
The drive was silent except for the rain and the hum of the engine.
Streetlights streaked across his face — sharp lines of gold and shadow.
He was my husband. We were going to be living under the same roof now and as long as I’d daydreamed about what his hands could do to me… I’d get an answer tonight.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
He turned toward me, the driver trying not to listen. “I’ve never been more certain. You’re mine, and I protect what’s mine.”
A chill and a thrill tangled in my veins. Protect or possess — sometimes in his world they meant the same thing. “Promise me you’ll be honest with me.”
He reached over, palm cupping my cheek. “Always… unless it comes to business. That’s my burden, not yours.”
The car rolled to a stop before a mansion. “Welcome home, my love.”
Inside, luxury everywhere. “It’s beautiful.”
“Only the best for my bride.”
His hand tightened around mine, both anchor and shackle. “Come. I’ll show you our room.”
We climbed the sweeping staircase. Portraits of dead heirs glared from the walls. At the end of the hall he opened a door. The bedroom was crimson and gold.
I hesitated. “Enrico…”
He turned, eyes dark. “Everything I do, I do for you.” His finger traced down my spine. “You belong to me now.”
My breath caught. I wasn’t na?ve; I knew how wedding nights ended. But between dread and desire, desire whispered louder.
I met his gaze. “Then stop talking.”
He kissed me — fierce, claiming, a collision years in the making. Fire and fear blurred until I couldn’t tell them apart.
He unzipped my dress nice and slow, and then his lips started at my neck and worked their way down my spine, the dress trailing with them. “You are fucking gorgeous, my love. Your skin is like clouds.”
When the dress slipped to the floor, I went to cover myself out of habit and he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t ever do that.
” He pushed me back to the wall, pinning my wrists above my head.
“Never try to cover yourself. There’s no need.
You are the only woman I want to hear scream my name and I’ve been dreaming about what you might look like when you come for me. ”
The man had a fucking way with words. My pussy was dripping and I’d never wanted him more. “You are very confident, aren’t you?”
He let go of my wrists, sank to his knees, and gawked up at me through his thick, dark lashes. “Let’s just say I’ve been working on my technique so that when you became my wife… you’d be worshipped adequately.” And before he could say another word, his tongue was on my clit.
My hips buckled as I cried out. He groaned and pushed up against me, licking and biting, saying my name over and over again.
“Please. Holy shit. En…”
The roughness from his stubble scraped my inner thighs and made my impending orgasm even closer. My nipples hardened beneath his gaze, begging for more attention. I pressed his head down, urging him and he obeyed by slipping two fingers inside while continuing to tease my clit with his tongue.
I came apart in his mouth, and he growled as I squirmed under his touch.
And when he looked up from between my legs, our gazes locked.
His eyes were wild with lust. He stood up then, and then pressed me against the wall and slid into my wetness with one motion.
He groaned deeply as our hips met, every thrust making him grow larger inside of me.
I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than this: to be filled by the man who owned me completely now.
His teeth grazed my neck, leaving marks that would undoubtedly bruise later but right now all the pain felt good.
“You're mine now,” he whispered against my skin, his breath hot and uneven. “Forever.”
I clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued to move inside me. The pressure built again, threatening to pull me under.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” he said, his voice rough with need. His pace quickened, each thrust deeper than the last. “So many nights imagining you like this.”
I gasped as he shifted angles, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids. His hands gripped my hips, leaving imprints I hoped would linger for days, visible reminders of this moment.
“Tell me you're mine,” he demanded, his movements becoming more erratic. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours,” I breathed, the words tumbling out without hesitation. “Always have been.”
His response was a primal. He buried his face in my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point as his hips stuttered. He throbbed inside me as he pushed me over the edge, leaving me breathless and clinging to him.
When he pulled back to look at me, his eyes softened, though the possessive gleam remained.
“My wife,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine.
“I’m going to make you come again,” he whispered against my ear, his voice a dark promise that sent shivers down my spine.
I could barely form words, still reeling from the orgasm. “I don't think I can—”
“You can. You will.” He laid me down on the bed and hovered over me and then eased himself inside, hitting a spot inside me that made me squeal. “For me.”
My nails dug into his shoulders as he drove deeper. This fucking man was delectable. If this was what our nights looked like… I should’ve said yes sooner.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I forced my eyes open to find his face inches from mine, his expression intense and focused. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his jaw clenched with restraint.
“I’ve waited years to see you like this,” he said, his pace never faltering. “Years of imagining how you'd feel around me. Nothing compares to reality.”
The pressure built again, impossibly fast. My body tensed, hovering on the edge of something monumental. He sensed it, his rhythm changing, becoming relentless.
“That's it,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Let go for me.”
When I came the second time, my vision blurred as pleasure crashed through me in waves. He followed moments later, his body shuddering against mine, my name a prayer on his lips. His forehead rested against mine.
“Worth the wait,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “But this is just the beginning.”