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I’m insane.

I’m insane and need a therapist if I thought for even a moment that marrying Santino and getting to kiss him again was a pleasant thought.

Although, there have to be worse things than actually wanting to kiss my husband, right? He could be completely repulsive and make my skin crawl when he touches me rather than flush with heat and leave me with goosebumps.

But desiring Santino’s touch isn’t a good thing, either.

I don’t want to want him.

He saw me and decided I was going to be his whether I agreed or not. He obviously assumed I’d be so charmed by an older handsome man with power and a cocky attitude that can only come from an abundance of well-deserved confidence. I never aspired to marry a powerful man, though. My family already has all the power and influence we need, and Santino should know I won’t fall on my knees for a taste of something I already possess.

If anything, marrying him is a downgrade.

He tricked me and he played me, and I hate how much I loved everything he did to me in the club. I hate how alive I felt at the thought of fucking over my new husband, and when it turned out Santino was one step ahead of me all along, I’ve felt nothing short of a fool. But Santino doesn’t own me just because we’re married now. I’m going to turn the tables on him and makehimbeg forme. He’s going to be dropping to his knees for a taste ofmypower.

With my new resolve, I look up at my husband, taking in his fine, chiseled features, and think of all the ways I’m going to torture him until he’s begging for a tasteof me.

Starting tonight.

I’ll make sure he gets a good eyeful of what I have on under my wedding dress. My dress that I’m so in love with. It has a structured corset bodice and is fitted all the way down to myknees where it flares out just the slightest to allow for the train that flows behind me a few feet. The entire dress is covered in pearls, creating lines, swirls, and patterns throughout that make me feel like I’m wearing both an elegant and a sexy dress.

The dress itself isn’t revealing, but the pearls add an indecent sexiness that gives me an unparalleled confidence I haven’t felt before. And under all these pearls I’m wearing a sexy white satin and lace lingerie set that was a gift from Aria and Gia this morning. They told me feeling sexy and confident would be my power play move against Santino, and I have to admit, I understand what they meant now.

* * * *

“Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome to the dance floor, the new Mr. and Mrs. Antonucci for their first dance,” a member of the band announces, and Santino stands, holding his hand out for me to take.

As he leads me to the center of the dance floor, he says casually so only I can hear, “Do you think our first dance married will go as well as our previous first dance?”

I huff out a short laugh. “No, I don’t think it will. Unless you want to put on a show for everyone?”

Santino wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. “No one gets to see you like that but me,farfalla.”

The song begins and I let Santino take the lead, guiding me around the dance floor, making it seem like I know what I’m doing.

“You can dance,” I say, stating the obvious. I’m surprised by how graceful he is. A word I never thought I’d associate with him.

Santino smiles down at me. “I can. I can do a lot of things you don’t know about, Mia. But you will.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“And you should. I intend to learn everything I can about you so that I can make sure you’re happy and taken care of in every way.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” I say automatically, even though that sounds like a nice change.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to,” he tells me, and that stupid part of me I need to keep buried flutters with hope that this could be real.

This isn’t real.

This is coercion, manipulation, and an exploitation of power.

“It still won’t change what we are.”

“And what are we?” he asks, spinning me away from him and then pulling me back. I slam against his hard body and he holds me even closer than before, with his arm banded around my back like the bar on a rollercoaster – unyielding and will only release when the ride is over.

“Nothing,” I breathe, my lungs collapsing under the pressure building in me.

“If we’re nothing, then why did I forget to breathe the second I saw you when those doors opened and you were walking towards me like a damned angel in white? If we’re nothing, then why do I know how soft your skin feels and how satisfying it is to see it break out into goosebumps when I touch you? If we’re nothing, then why do I know how sweet you taste and how beautiful you look when you come?”

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