Page 23 of Stolen Bride for the Don

“An hour?! Where are we going?” I yell after him, but he’s already gone. I glance at the dress in my hand and run the delicate material through my fingers. Before I have a chance to worry about how I’ll be ready in time, women start flooding through my door carrying an assortment of tools, bags and boxes. They immediately snap at me to sit in front of the vanity mirror.

An hour later, my hair is piled high on my head; a few loose tendrils hang around my collar bone and frame my face. I have dark, smoldering eye shadow blended to perfection, my brows are arched, my lips glossed and I’m being zipped into a glove of a dress. How Hudson managed to get this dress to fit me like a second skin is beyond me, but it’s fucking gorgeous.

It’s tight over my breasts, cinches my waste, and continues to hug my curves just past my knees. The top’s bustier cups lift my cleavage to the heavens while boning down the front and sides hugs my ribs. Long tight sleeves made of sheer, black fabric cover my arms past my wrists; as a final touch, I step into four-inch red-bottomed stilettos.

I take in the final look in one of the room’s many mirrors; truthfully, I’m impressed. This dress is something I would pick for myself: it’s elegant and edgy and makes me feel like the bad-ass mob wife I’m being forced to become.

Now two hours later, I’m sitting by the fireplace alone; the novelty of this perfect dress has completely worn off. By this point, I’m thoroughly annoyed. My heels have long since been kicked off and not even a spicy book can ease the tension coiling within me.

Suddenly, the door once again flies open, and Hudson comes stalking in. He barely gets two words out before he turns to leave again. “It’s been canceled.”

“I’m sorry, what? I put on your fucking dress just to sit here by myself for two hours!”

That seems to catch his attention; he slowly turns around, finally taking the time to rake his eyes over my body. His jaw visibly clenches as he walks to me. He towers over me when we stand this close, but I won’t back down. I’m pissed, and he needs to know it. I was actually willing to cooperate tonight. I was even kind of looking forward to being his arm candy while glaring at anyone who dared to look our way.

He lifts his hand and runs a finger from the side of my breast down my ribs, causing an involuntary shiver to run up my spine. The movement of his eyes indicates that he has noticed my reaction to his touch, yet again, which pisses me the hell off…yet again. “You look delicious enough to eat,” he growls; a nod to his previous list of expectations.

“I’m not on the menu.”

“A shame because I’m famished. I think you’ll quite enjoy being licked into submission.” His voice is so low that I can barely hear the words he’s grumbling out.

Just when the asshole nearly has me caving in to find out just how accurate his promises are, he pulls away. “Unfortunately, something came up that I must deal with. Pity for them because I’m not feeling very forgiving anymore.” A flicker of remorse crosses his eyes as he takes one last look at me and storms out.

He’s unbelievable. After everything I had to go through to become his ideal mafia bride–whatever the fuck that entails–he leaves me alone, in the pinnacle of dresses, like I’m his to order around.

I start pacing and rip the pins from my hair angrily. He thinks he can just order me around and then leave me with nothing but his books and my hands as entertainment. I start to reach behind my back to pull on the dress zipper when a tiny red light catches the corner of my eye. I whip my head in its direction, but all I’m met with is my own reflection staring back at me…I could’ve sworn, and then it hits me. A camera. Someone is watching. I’d bet good money that I know who.

I stare at the spot. I know I saw a light flicker, even if I’m now left staring at myself in the mirror. I decide it’s time to play dirty. He had said that he’s too busy; well, this will distract him and take him off his game.

Without breaking eye contact from the mysterious spot on the mirror, I reach behind me and slowly unzip my dress.

HUDSON

This meeting better be quick. Andrea looked like a fucking goddess in that dress, and it nearly killed me to walk out of our bedroom, leaving her mad and high-strung. I could’ve relaxed her, showing her just how patient I can be when it comes to drawing out every moan and sigh from her lush lips.

I nearly caved when I noticed her immediate reaction to my touch. As much as she fights it, I know she craves me; nonetheless, I left. Now I’m stuck talking to a bunch of gruff men about how thoroughly fucked is yet another idiot who had decided to cross me.

A minute ago I pulled up the bedroom monitor feed just to keep an eye on her and see if she’d settled back into her book. “Shit!” I curse when I see that she’s staring right at me. I’m shocked to see unwavering eye contact; there’s no way she knows a hidden camera is placed behind that mirror, but she’s staring straight at me…and that smirk is unnervingly sexy. I’m about to call one of my men to check on her when I see that she’s reaching behind her. Fuck, if she hasn’t found another weapon. Her dress is about to come off, and my pants immediately feel tight.

She knows that I’m watching. She knows I’m busy, and she’s fucking stripping for me. I clench my teeth hard because I should fucking be there; she’s teasing me–punishing me for keeping her waiting and then dismissing her.

Her hands slowly lift to her shoulders before peeling the tight sleeves down her arms. The bodice comes with it, opening enough to reveal her completely. I can hardly breathe. I picked that dress out myself, knowing it would suit her perfectly. It looked unreal, hugging her every curve; but holy shit, it looks a million times better shimmying down over her hips.

I lean back in my chair and tilt my head to look at the ceiling. “Fuck”.

When I glance back at the screen, one hand is cupping her breast, and I nearly lose it on the spot. My hand shoots up to grip my hair. I am leaning into the screen when a disgustingly masculine voice jars me back to my current task, “Massimo? You still there?”

“No, I’ll be back in an hour.” I storm out of my office and stalk down the hallway to the bedroom where my fiancée is performing the world’s sexiest strip tease…without me.

ANDREA

The bedroom door flies open so hard that it slams against the wall and sends a picture frame crashing to the floor.

“Oh, my God, Hudson. Stop that!” I clutch my chest and glare at him before I acknowledge that I’m standing before him completely naked.

He starts to move, and before I can say another word, he takes three long strides, stopping just short of touching me. I lean back to look up at him, my chest heaving in anticipation of his next move: it could be anything. He turns and grabs a chair near the fireplace, carries it to the center of the room, and sits on it, staring at me. His eyes go so dark that I can barely make out their usual mossy green.

“Show me what you were going to do next,” he demands, his voice so low it’s practically a rumble deep in his chest.

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