Page 13 of DeLuca: The Devil

I open the door after hearing a knock and see Maria, one of my many servants with an armful of clothing.

“Come in,” I say before redirecting my gaze to Giada, “Get dressed. I expect you to be in the dining room in fifteen minutes. Mario has prepared dinner.”

She lowers her gaze to the floor, “Dom, can I take a shower first?”

I sigh with irritation, at her and at myself for liking the way my nickname rolls off her tongue, “Fine. Make it quick. Everything you need, you’ll find in the bathroom.”

As I walk toward the door, I spot my brother, Drake, standing there with a smirk on his face. Without thinking, I draw my fist back and hit him in the jaw.

“Jesus Christ,” he yells as he rubs his face.

“She will be my wife. Look at my naked wife again and I’ll carve your fucking eyes out with a dull knife.”

I hit him again just to hammer home my point. He stumbles backward but doesn’t fall, “Fuck asshole. You’re marrying her to piss people off and start a war. You’re not marrying her for real. I didn’t think it mattered. I thought maybe I’d even get a turn.”

I push him against the wall before wrapping my hands around his throat and growl, “You thought fucking wrong. Do not look at her. Don’t touch her. Even thinking about Giada is fucking off limits. Got it?”

Drake glares at me with a vengeance, “Yeah, got it. What, are you in love with her?”

I laugh as I step back, “No. I do not love her. I will never love her. That’s not what this is about. She’s a weapon. Nothing more. Nothing less. She’s not my type. She isn’t even attractive.”

He rubs his jaw more as he winces from the pain, “But you’ll fuck her, right?”

I nod, “To consummate the marriage, yes.”

Drake shakes his head, “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to overstep. I thought it would be like Marissa and Holly.”

In our younger, wild days, we shared two women. There is no fucking chance that I’m sharing Giada with my brother or any other man.

“It’s nothing like either of them. Now, why are you in my home? Did you need something?”

He chuckles, “I came to let you know Anthony is asking questions about his daughter's whereabouts. Apparently, she disappeared from the hotel room mere minutes before her wedding. So, what’s the plan?”

“In forty-eight hours, she’ll be my wife, lose her virginity, then he’ll be told. Not a moment before then.”

He slaps my shoulder affectionately, “Alright. We’ll talk after you’re a married man then. Later.”

I head down to the kitchen and wait for Giada to arrive for dinner.

Chapter Ten

GIADA

I’m not sure if Domenic left the door cracked open on purpose or not. Was I meant to hear he’s not attracted to me? And why did that hurt so much? I shouldn't care what he thinks of my physical appearance, but I do.

No. I do not love her. I will never love her. That’s not what this is about. She’s a weapon. Nothing more. Nothing less. She’s not my type. She isn’t even attractive.

I might have done a Google search on Domenic after the night at Devil. And I might have, maybe noticed the women he has been seen with. It shouldn’t honestly surprise me. I’m too plain for him. The women he is photographed with are stunning. They look like supermodels. I’m just me. Twenty pounds overweight and boring. I try to push his words from my mind as I make my way to the bathroom. After turning on the shower, I step in. It’s nice to be held captive in such an expensive home. The shower head is a deluxe rainfall. I stand under the heat of the water rolling down my skin and contemplate never getting out.

Then I hear his voice, “Giada. I’m not known for being a patient man. I suggest you finish up and get down here before I lose the last thread of patience I have and drag you out of the shower by your hair.”

Nervously, I look around the room through the clear shower door but don’t see him. He obviously has an intercom system.

I rinse off and quickly dry off with a towel before getting dressed in the blue sweatshirt and black yoga pants he provided for me. At least I’m not naked now. I will figure out some way to get free of him. Is he better than Enzo? Probably. But not by much. I never wanted this. From the moment I saw my father kill my mother, I swore I’d never be a mafia wife. If it’s not Enzo, it’ll be Domenic. I keep telling myself it’ll be temporary. This is not the life I want. I’m sure after Dom wins this war he’s starting, he’ll let me go or kill me. He’s not attracted to me, so I know he’ll tire of having a wife he doesn’t want and be itching to go back to his bachelor ways. Unless he’s like my father and plans on fucking whoever he wants even after he’s married.

I head downstairs and wander around until I find the dining room. Domenic sits at the head of the table, tapping his fingers on the marble, clearly fuming.

I keep my head lowered as I take the seat across from him.

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