Page 10 of Brutal Husband

I eye Mom’s clenched hand warily.

But the way Nero was talking about it, I think I might like it. Does that make me twisted? Is there something wrong with me?

Mom’s eyes turn cold, and she speaks through clenched teeth. “You will do your duty to this family, and the Bianchis will be able to hold their heads up in this city once more.”

She brought shame down on our family by cheating on Dad and getting pregnant with Mia. Now I have to be perfect to make up for her mistake.

I mutter an excuse about being tired and go upstairs, my insides a mess of apprehension, desire, and frustration. When my back hits the inside of my closed bedroom door, I pull my dress up, and my hand dives into my underwear. I’m soaked right through the lace. My clit is still so swollen that the friction against my fingers prompts a low moan to escape my lips. I wish they were Nero’s fingers.

My pretty piece of cunt.

I hate that he said that. It’s so degrading. All I can think about is him growling those words in my ear as he undresses me roughly. Rips my dress apart with his large, tanned hands, squeezes my breasts like I’m a toy for his pleasure, and then sucks my nipples into his mouth, one after the next. With teeth.

I don’t get much further into the daydream because I’m a virgin who’s never gotten past second base, and because my orgasm rushes up and slams into me. I come with one hand over my mouth to stifle my cries.

I straighten up and open my eyes, blinking slowly in the aftermath of my climax. I’ve never felt desire like this before. I’ve never come so hard in my life. Wanting my husband-to-beis a good thing, right? Perhaps this could be a foundation we can build on. Maybe I won’t say to him,Nero, I don’t want to marry you. Maybe I’ll say, Nero, I’m very attracted to you, but we should get to know each other first before we make anything official.

No one can punish me for that, can they?

I think of the basement. Being trapped alone in the dark. She wouldn’t now that I’m grown up.

Would she?

Downstairs, I can hear Mom talking on the phone, no doubt telling everyone and their cousins that her daughter is engaged to Nero Lombardi.

My heart sinks. I think it’s too late to get to know each other first.

On Sunday afternoon,Mom throws us an engagement party. Nero is adamant with her that he doesn’t want a big event or a sit-down dinner, so she hosts a buffet lunch at home for just family. Our family because Nero doesn’t have any.

My palms are sweating, and I keep clenching them on my dress until Mom tells me off for wrinkling the fabric. Is Nero going to make the worst husband ever? I can’t tell. I have next to no dating experience, and he’s twelve years older than me. I’ve only been around boys who attend the sister school to my all-girls school. Nero isn’t a boy; he’s a man. He holds himself like a man. He smells like a man. And he talks like a very, very dirty man.

As he steps through the front door in a dark blue suit and black shirt, I scour him for a sign or a sense of rightness aboutthe two of us. Even a roguish hint of a smile just for me would be reassuring.

Nero’s cold eyes graze over me like I’m not here. He greets Mom with a polite word.

There is nothing in the way he looks at me that tells me he’s the right man to marry. All the doubts I have crowd in my chest with nowhere to go. I feel like I’m going to scream. I want to tear the sparkling ring off my finger, but instead, I stand there with an inane smile on my face pretending that everything’s fine.

There are so many people congratulating us and kissing our cheeks that no one but me seems to notice that Nero and I haven’t even said hello to each other. Standing in the living room, I pick over a side plate of potato salad, pretending to eat. My stomach is roiling as I watch Nero across the room in conversation with one of my uncles. I keep the stupid smile on my face because everyone expects it of me. My aunts, my father’s sisters, keep saying, “You must be so happy!”

It’s a warm day, and the guests spread out through the ground floor of the house and into the garden. Nero is towed over to me by one of my mother’s cousins so she can get a photo of the two of us. I put down my potato salad and link my arm through my husband’s, forcing my aching smile wider for the camera. After being told what a beautiful couple we are, we’re left alone together. I drop Nero’s arm and fidget with my bracelet. He doesn’t move away from me, but he doesn’t say anything either.

I wonder what he expects of me. I tie myself up in knots trying to figure it out. I wish I were a rebel like my little sister, Mia. She doesn’t bend over backward trying to please everyone.

Maybe I can be like that. Nothing’s stopping me except for my own nerves.

“Talk to me like you did the other day,” I whisper, and I feel my cheeks flame as I say it. “You were right about what I was going to do when I got home.”

Nero glares straight ahead. “Was I?”

Physical attraction is the only connection we have, though, right now, it’s difficult to feel anything for Nero while his demeanor is so icy.

“It’s never felt better, actually.” I flash him a quick smile. A hopeful one.

Please be real with me. Don’t be cold.

Nero nods slowly but still doesn’t say anything.

“Can we be alone together for a few minutes?” I reach out to touch his arm. Nero stares down at my hand, and I sense his annoyance.

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