Page 25 of His Bride

I whirl on him, anger flaring. “The dockers?” My voice is low, dangerous. “You think our own men would betray us?”

Marco flinches, taking a step back. “I-I just thought-”

“No,” I cut him off sharply. “Our dockers are loyal. They know the consequences of crossing me.”

Images flash through my mind - broken bones, bloodied faces. I push them aside. The dockers have been with us for years. They wouldn’t risk everything for a few measly packets. Loyalty is everything in this business. Without it, we’re nothing but animals tearing each other apart.

“Boss, what do you want me to do?” Marco’s voice pulls me back.

I stride closer to Marco, fixing him with a hard stare. “Investigate. Quietly. Check every angle, every person involved in this shipment. I want to know who’s responsible.”

Marco nods, his face pale. “Yes, boss. I’ll get right on it.”

“And Marco?” I add, my tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. “If you find a leak in our operation, plug it. Permanently.”

He swallows hard, understanding the unspoken order. “Of course, Boss.”

As Marco hurries off, I’m left alone with the crates and my turbulent thoughts. Someone’s testing me, pushing to see how far they can go. They’ll learn soon enough that I don’t bend. I break.

And when I find the rat in our midst, they’ll wish they’d never been born.

With one last look at the crates, I stalk out the warehouse, get in my car and drive off. I grip the steering wheel tight as I navigate the winding roads back home. The setting sun paints the sky blood-red, matching the fury still simmering in my veins. But as the miles roll by, my thoughts drift from business to Adriana.

My wife.

The thought still feels strange, even after these weeks of marriage.

I picture her face - those big, expressive hazel eyes, the way her cheeks flush when I’m near. She’s still skittish sometimes, like a doe ready to bolt at the slightest movement. But there are moments she shows defiance…

“Fuck,” I mutter, shifting in my seat as desire coils low in my gut.

A car horn blares. I’ve drifted into the other lane. Cursing, I jerk the wheel, heart pounding.

“Get it together,” I snarl at myself.

But it’s useless. My thoughts circle back to Adriana like a compass finding true north. The soft curve of her neck. The way she bites her lip when she’s concentrating on her drawings. How she trembled beneath me on our wedding night…

I groan, pressing the accelerator harder. I need to get home. Need to see her.

It’s unsettling, this… feeling. This need. I’ve never allowed anyone to affect me like this.

The mansion comes to view, a fortress of stone and secrets. As I pull into the drive, I catch myself hoping she’ll be there to greet me. It’s a weakness I can’t afford, but one I’m powerless to fight.

I stride through the front door and I’m greeted by the familiar scent of garlic and tomatoes wafting from the kitchen. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since morning. But it’s not food I’m hungry for.

Soft voices drift down the hallway. I follow them, my footsteps quiet. As I round the corner, I see her.

Adriana stands at the counter, chopping vegetables with quick, precise movements. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy bun, exposing the delicate nape of her neck. Sofia hovers nearby, stirring a pot on the stove.

For a moment, I just watch. Adriana’s brow furrows in concentration, her lips moving slightly as she counts each slice. It’s oddly endearing.

“How are you feeling, cara?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Adriana jumps, the knife clattering to the counter. Her wide eyes meet mine, a blush already coloring her cheeks.

“Dante! I… I didn’t hear you come in,” she stammers.

I move closer, noting how she tenses but doesn’t back away. Progress.

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