Page 8 of His Stolen Bride

Santino

Cato: Is she safe? Is it done?

“Fuck.” I slam my phone into my pocket. I love Cato as a brother, but he’s treating me like I’m a no-nothing dumbass who needs babysitting. I eye the hole in the ground as Giuseppe’s body is unearthed, and I realize that perhaps Cato is the only one who can explain why my fiery beauty would want to see such a thing. I pull the phone back out as Lucenzo hoists the corpse from the earth.

Santino: She’s safe. I will wed her tonight.

The phone rings. I answer with a sigh.

“Get it done sooner rather than later. It’s a decent insurance policy for your life. If you aren’t wedded to her, her father will be more inclined to take you out.”

“I know, brother. I know. But I do have a question. Can you tell me why my Carrera bride would demand to see Giuseppe’s corpse before she’ll wed me?”

Cato barks a harsh laugh. “The fuck?”

“Yes.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder toward the villa, and Lucenzo and some soldiers carry the body toward the back door. “She demanded to see him before she’d marry me.”

“Definitely a Carrera. Holy shit.”

“What’s going on? Is Santino all right?” Apollonia’s voice is soft in the background.

“He’s fine, my lioness. Go back to sleep.”

“Tell him to treat her right. Be kind. Don’t do anything bad to her.” Her voice rises.

“He won’t,” Cato says, possibly more to me than her. “He will be a gentleman and seduce her into his bed. The same way I did to you, my dear one.”

“Pfft. You spanked my pussy, remember?”

I choke on my spit.

“Excuse me, Santino. It seems I have to deliver some discipline. Make me proud.”

Apollonia squeals and laughs as the call cuts off.

“At least someone is having a fun night,” I say to Giuseppe’s dead eyes as we trudge into the house.

Talia, the cook, is gone to bed for the night, thank the Virgin. She might desert me if she saw this macabre business.

“Up the stairs to my room.” I point, then think about my words. Not my room. Our room. The one Bella and I will share. Is she still a virgin? I lick my lips. I’m certain she is. Good mafia princesses don’t spread their legs for anyone except the man they’re promised to.

That means she’s mine, her cherry and everything else. I’ll take it and have her toes curling, my name on her lips. Those hips of hers—fuck. She was made for breeding, every part of her calling to the primal monster that lurks inside me. The male who wants to dominate his female while also protecting her, loving her and fucking her, feeding her and punishing her, worshipping her and forcing her to her knees.

“Boss?” Lucenzo asks, interrupting my thoughts.

It feels good to hear the word addressed to me. “Show her.” I motion with my hand. “She wanted to see it.”

I follow them into the bedroom. The moment we arrive, Gianna gets up and rushes to the bathroom. She vomits pitifully, and Leo follows.

“Satisfied?” I ask Bella. She’s not. Not yet. Not until I’m balls deep in her virgin cunt.

She stands, her nose in the air as she walks toward the body my men unceremoniously dump on the floor.

“Would you like me to stab him? Cut off a piece for you to keep as a trophy, perhaps?” I pull my knife free.

She swallows hard, and I can see the slight tremble in her chin. “Not necessary.” She keeps her gaze on me. “You did this?”

“Yes.” I point to the crimson smiley face I drew along Giuseppe’s throat. “My hand, my knife.”

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