Page 24 of Princess of the Mafia

“Red sheet tradition,” Stefano muttered in disgust. If anyone was into modernizing some of our traditions, it would have been him.

“Fucking traditions.” If Nico’s dark murmur hadn’t told me he wasn’t much of a fan, the tick in his jaw definitely would have.

Stefano glanced behind us before he murmured, “Are you even going to fuck her tonight?”

A harsh laugh escaped me. “I don’t fucking know.” I was the fucking don of New York, but I couldn’t figure out what to do with my wife. God knows she’d pissed me off so much with her actions that I was still boiling two days later. Then she turned up in Chiffon and silk, and her brother uttered mysterious words. Now I didn’t know. I’d wanted a doll to drape around my house and play dress up. Play being the paramount word. This girl in front of me, hanging on to her brother like her very life depended on him, pulled at something I didn’t know I had. She looked so frail with her heels resting on his loafers as he swayed her around the dance floor that I truly felt like the evil cradle stealing monster they made me out to be. Fuck! There was only a ten-year age gap between us. In the Cosa Nostra, that was almost fucking normal. But somehow, it felt like more. Probably because there wasn’t an innocent bone to be found in my body while she screamed innocence, even though I’d seen another man in between her legs.

Di Matteo’s words, she’s been through a lot, crawled under my skin. I rolled my head to release the tension hugging my shoulders. An interest in getting to know my wife pulsed inside me. What made a girl who was so protected not want to be owned? Enough to sneak out and pay someone to take her virginity. It wasn’t for her pleasure, that had been clear when my eyes had shot to her tear-faced gaze fixed on the ceiling. What monsters hid under her bed, and would they dare to follow her to my city?

I didn’t care for the curiosity of knowing the girl I married. This hadn’t been the plan. But until I knew what she’d been through, I’d protect her with all that I had just because she was mine to protect. No longer her brother’s, who she clung to. She was fucking mine, and it was high time she learned it.

“If you plan to do something, you’d better do it now and not tomorrow,” Nico murmured, his eyes on the bunch in the corner.

Damn right, I will.

I strode over to Di Matteo and rudely pulled her into my arms. The first time we’d danced, she’d been stiff as a fucking board in my arms. Time had improved nothing. It had only become worse. She gave a deer in the headlight look to her brother, but he wisely stepped away. I wasn’t sure if it was my glare that did it or the itchiness to grab a gun and shoot the whole damn country club that vibed off me.

She smelled just like she had in that dusty old church. Intoxicating. I avoided naked skin and placed my hands on the thin covering she called Chiffon. She might as well have been naked because my hand burned right through it. I was torn between banning her from any clothes that resembled this fucking dress to buying out the designer who dared to create this cock sucker. Something strange crawled up my body. A feeling I’d never known before, and it was called indecision. It was like the sky; the sun shining through dark clouds. I didn’t know if I should push her over like a bulldozer or wrap her in my arms and hide her from evil.

The fact that she remained stiff in my arms didn’t make it any easier. Even though I twirled her around the room just as elegantly as Di Matteo, it didn’t escape my mind that she didn’t cling on to me or ride my shoes like she’d done with him.

It wouldn’t hurt her to at least look me in the eye. But all she did was throw anxious looks behind me. I followed her gaze again and slowed down. It wasn’t her family she was looking at. Her focus was stuck in the direction of the huddled women.

Fuck! She pissed me off. This was her own fucking fault. Now I had to protect her and change traditions. I didn’t mind. I wanted to. But that was beyond the point.

When the music stopped, I brought her to a stop a few feet away from her own family. “Go to your room. Party’s done now.”

Jesus! I expected less perturbation. I might as well have told her I planned to rape her tonight. What happened to that attitude I’d seen before? I can’t believe I missed that already.

I wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck and brought her face close to mine. Her blue eyes shimmered like the color of a peacock feather. Her breath was hot and warmed my face. I was a masochist for playing with temptation. I inhaled her fucking intoxicating smell and drew my lips close to her soft pink ones before I growled, “Go to sleep. I’m not fucking you tonight.”

I pushed off her and left her in a full gasp and strolled over to my aunts. Fucking women. Sometimes they were their own worst enemies. You’d think they’d stand up for each other, yet they were more than happy to shame one another when it was their turn.

“Ladies,” I said, allowing my voice to rise for my family to hear and for anyone around who was interested to listen in. “Don’t piss me off by turning up tomorrow in my room looking for some fucking red sheets.”

Zia Elvira gasped like I’d suggested I look under her skirt. The old hag had a thing for traditions. “But that’s tradition.”

“Time to change it, then.”

Uneasy looks passed among the women.

“People will wonder if your wife’s a virgin.”

My eyes shot to Mamma’s sneaky sister, Elena. Didn’t know how she could be because there wasn’t a common thread to be found. Not even in the little dark mustache she had running under her fucking nose. “Oh, she’s a virgin alright, and there’ll be blood on my sheets, but I don’t value you enough to shame my wife and show it to you.”

I turned to walk away, but pulled back at the last minute. “And if you doubt that, then you are doubting me. I hope you know it’ll be fucking suicidal to doubt your Don.”

Approval burned my skin, and when I turned, my eyes caught on Di Matteo and Capizzi, standing in the dark corner. I didn’t do it for their fucking approval. I might have done it for the girl probably sleeping it off in my bed, after letting another man take her virginity. Or I did it for my reputation because a don who still married a girl who’d paid someone off to take her virginity wasn’t much of a don in Cosa Nostra's terms. All I knew was I needed a fucking drink because that’s all the fucking I was going to do on my wedding night.

Nine shots of whiskey and five cigarettes later brought a buzz to my walk as I found my way to my bedroom. Our bedroom, I realized, when I swung the door open to crash against the wall, and found a bundle in my bed.

My family slept on the floor below, and hers went home. We were in the suite because, well, this was Cosa Nostra’s way of telling me I could make her scream as loud as I wanted.

If only they knew.

I pulled my clothes off and dropped onto the bed. The mattress bounced, but my woman slept soundly. Not a single hitch in her breath. This was going to come in handy, I was sure. Didn’t know why, though.

She slept on her side and turned toward me, her hair trailing behind her in wild curls and loose lengths. The dip in her cupid bow pissed me off. Her lips were too fucking pink, too. As if that wasn’t enough, my bloody curiosity made me pull the sheet up to have a peek.

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