Page 22 of His Bride

He’s a small fish who thinks this is a small pond. But it isn’t. It’s the fucking ocean, and we’re the sharks. And I know that. I know a tiny-dick motherfucker like Aurelio doesn’t have half a chance of rocking this mothership.

Yet I acted on impulse, everything except the immediate danger to Giana fueling my stupidity.

I take a final drag of my smoke then stub it in the ashtray on the coffee table.

I let a goddamn girl get to my head. One I want to strangle half the time and fuck the rest. But what I did was lose my shit. I acted out of…out of…what? Fear Giana would get hurt?

The girl’s in our protection. She wears my ring. She’s not even under her fuckface of a father’s finger anymore. He lost any and all hold on her the moment I fucked her, and it was officially sealed the moment I slid a ring on her finger.

So, what the hell?

Was I scared Aurelio would take her? Yes, goddammit. I knew he wouldn’t kill her. She’s part of whatever fucked up little plan he has.

But it was something more. Something deeper that played below the undercurrent of my thoughts. Something that had my instincts so lit, I made every wrong move possible.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter, taking another swig. Was it because…was I afraid I might never get to tell her that I…

I trail off.

Tell her what? That I was being a jerk when I acted like a child after she said she loved me? She wasn’t even being serious. We have a thing. We have banter. That’s it, and fucking good night.

But there was a tone, a vibration in how she said those words, or maybe it hit something deep in my bones. That’s what got me all tied and knotted in ways that had me acting like a jerk—more than usual.

And then all the dominoes started falling.

Nicoli and I have been working with some of the others on damage control, but Isaia is now running it.

I’ve got Gabriel out there working with our contacts in low places. Davian’s waiting with his finger on the trigger for orders to take out Aurelio, but that is something even I know needs to be a last resort.

Davian will take out New York’s father if I ask, but as much as I want to, we have to feel this out. There are networks, other players.

Our lawyer’s out doing his job. We have all kinds of people waiting, people ready to move into the right space.

But Maximo’s right. Nicoli wears Alexius’s face, so he has to step into the fray. It’s not only our best shot but our only shot if we want to keep this fortress from crumbling.

I take one more swallow and close my eyes, leaning back on the sofa. My bones hurt; that’s how tired I am. Normally, I can grab an hour or two and be fine, but for the first time in my life, I’m not.

“Fuck you, New York.” Which is the problem.

I want to fuck her.

Almost desperately.

It’s not lost on me that I could walk out the front door right now, get in a car, and go to Club Myth.

I could find one of my favorite girls or sample from the new selection and go to town. Fuck all the goddamn lust out of me. All the frustrations. The needs.

There are girls so perfect I’ve seen men weep. Girls so filthy and hardened, depraved men come in their pants within four-point-three seconds flat.

And yet…I don’t want those girls. Not even the ones who can do things that will make a man go fucking blind. Girls who can suck a cock like the finest whore, which is a skill that’s more than worth praising in a trade that’s worth all the gold in the world.

No. I have no interest in them because not one of those girls comes even close to the flashing eyes and smart mouth of my sweet and spiky bride.

Maybe she isn’t trained in the art. Maybe she hasn’t learned all the tricks. But I like that, the fact that I can teach her to do things exactly the way I like them.

And I love that sweet, tight cunt of hers.

That hot mouth.

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