Page 23 of Princess of the Mafia

I stepped back and squashed the butt on the ground, just like I wished I could her aggravation.

“Get in,” I said tightly and walked toward my side of the car. She struggled to get in, tissue getting in the way of function. I held back the itch to help her. Couldn’t come close to her without sliding underneath that dress. She was confusing, this girl I had married, who I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, for better or worse, in sickness or health. She dressed in silk and chiffon, but she didn’t want to be owned by me. I didn’t need confirmation to know I’d married a riddle that needed solving. If only she knew that there was no challenge I wouldn’t accept.

The moment her door closed, I took off like death was hounding me. Awareness prickled of another time we’d been together in another car.

“You swapped cars?”

I flicked a gaze to hers. I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. I’d gotten rid of everything that reminded me of that God-forsaken night. The only thing I hadn’t gotten rid of was seated right next to me. Smelling of lavender and looking like heaven. I wished I’d got rid of her too because no matter what car I drove or what shirt I wore, as long as she was around me, that night would taint my mind till I was six feet under.

Suddenly, I couldn’t get to the reception fast enough. Couldn’t drop her fast enough in the arms of her family. Couldn’t stay far enough from her tantalizing looks. Because fuck, I hated her for taking away what was mine.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LORENZO

“Don’t like the look on your face.”

Animosity burned my back. I didn’t need to hear his voice to know it was my favorite cognato.

“You don’t like my face. Look or not.”

“That too.” His tensed shoulders brushed mine as he came to a stop next to me. I turned my head to catch his glare. It irritated me that we were of equal height. I couldn’t even tower over him, and his sister would fucking choose him over me.

“You’re a smart man—”

“Thank you.” I didn’t know why I wanted to be a bigger dickhead than usual. Although I kind of did. Weddings got me hyped up as much as a rash on my dick. The last time I’d been in one, I’d watched an orange spark light up the sky and Mamma being blown out into a million fucking bits.

He frowned at my interruption. “You know I’d burn down your whole damn town if you hurt my sister.”

Jesus! Only a Di Matteo would call New York a town. “Wouldn’t expect otherwise,” I grunted tightly.

“She’s —”

“Your favorite sister? Got that down too.” I popped another button on my shirt. I hated getting dressed up. Brought my mind right up to the last time I wore a suit neatly, and it ended up spattered with Mamma’s blood.

“If you would fucking allow me to finish, I was about to say that she’s been through a lot, would help to go gentle on her.”

My thoughts paused, and my glare flicked to him. He was watching her dancing with Stefano. The only men outside of her family allowed to dance with her were my brothers. Of course, Nico hadn't bothered, and since I wasn't planning on touching her with a ten-foot pole, I left the task to the baby of the family. Something distant and sad lined my cognato’s profile, and curiosity edged my words.

“Would help to know what I am going up against.”

“It would.” His eyes met mine. “But it’s not my place to tell you. Treat her right, and she’ll tell you herself.”

Jesus! The Di Matteos were one irritating family. I tried to summon up the reasons for this alliance as I watched him stride off. Annoyingly, I couldn’t think of a single one. That’s how hot and itchy I was. My life wasn’t perfect. But it had been manageable before the fucking Di Matteos.

My jaw clenched when he took over dancing with his sister, who just happened to be my wife. Stefano strolled over to me.

“There’s a bunch of delirious Martello women watching your every move.” I frowned at him and followed his gaze. Two of my older cousins and three aunts stood huddled in a corner like vultures waiting for the dead body.

“What’s their problem?”

“Not theirs. Yours. They can’t wait to see the red sheets in the morning.”

Some fucking don I was. I’d totally forgotten a tradition that had passed through generations without a single hitch. Fucking hated weddings. Should have just dragged her to City Hall and got the deed done. She might have still been a fucking virgin then.

“How do you want to handle it?”

“Handle what?” Nico asked, coming up to my other side.

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