Page 5 of His Dark Possession

I read the unwavering confidence etched on his face as a challenge, igniting a spark of mischief within me. I shouldn’t toy with my husband—after all, he has a reputation to uphold, and he’s put me in my place once already, a stern reminder of the boundaries between us. But I am stubborn, and everybody knows that. Perhaps it’s time that Antonio found that out in a way that would leave no room for doubt.

5

ANTONIO

Iknow what she’s doing; I’m not blind to her game.

The moment dinner concluded, Gabriella wasted no time in making her rounds, sidling up to every man in my wedding party with a calculated grace. She laughs at their jokes, her melodic laughter ringing out like music, and touches them at every opportunity, her fingers lingering just a moment too long on their arms and shoulders. I’d be lying if I said that the sight didn’t stir something primal within me, igniting a heat that traveled through my veins.

“Your bride is something else,” Rafael remarks, standing beside me at a cocktail table, his gaze fixed on the dance floor where Gabriella twirls effortlessly with Costantino. “She works the room like she’s getting tips, doesn’t she? She would make a fantastic hustler if you put her on the floor at one of your strip clubs. Perhaps the—“ he trails off suddenly, catching the warning glare etched on my face.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I warn him, taking a slow sip of brandy from my rocks glass, the amber liquid swirling with an intensity that matches my mood. Rafael might be my brother,but that doesn’t mean I won’t throw a punch if it comes down to it. “She’s just trying to make me jealous.”

Rafael furrows his brow, a frown deepening his features as he processes my words. “And you’re just going to stand here and do nothing?” His voice carries a hint of incredulity, as if he can’t fathom my inaction in the face of such blatant flirtation.

I’ve had to suppress every instinct within me that screams,‘Fuck her on the dance floor to show everyone that she’s mine.’I’ve always been protective of my possessions, clinging to them with a fierce intensity, but with Gabriella, the stakes feel entirely different. She isn’t just a fleeting moment or a temporary distraction; she’s someone I actually care about. I glance at Rafael, exasperation creeping into my voice as I ask, “What should I do, Rafe? Do you want me to cause an uproar? Make a scene before my wedding day?”

“Yeah, actually. If I had a woman, I’d never let another man touch her,” Rafael retorts, his nostrils flaring slightly as he straightens his posture, the tension in his body evident. “My woman would never disrespect me like this. If she dared to try, I’d take her over my knee right there in front of God and everyone, without a second thought.”

Rafael embodies our father’s sense of discipline and his innate understanding of women. While I strategize for war and navigate the complexities of conflict, Rafael seems to manage a bevy of girls with effortless charm, never breaking a sweat. “In due time, brother,” I say, attempting to reassure him but also myself. “Besides, she’s dancing with family, and that counts for something, doesn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes, exasperation etched across his features, and takes a long sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. “IfI saw you eye-fucking my betrothed on the dance floor, I’d knock you out. I don’t care if you’re my brother, my cousin, or my fucking father. Costantino looks at her like she’s a piece of meat, and I can’t just stand by and watch. If you don’t do something now, he’s going to think it’s okay for the rest of his life.”

A surge of heat rises within me, my blood starting to boil as I process Rafael’s words. I know he’s getting to me, pushing buttons that I’d rather leave untouched. I’d much prefer to stand here and meticulously record every time Gabriella bats her eyelashes at a member of my family, cataloging each flirtation like a hawk circling its prey. But at my brother’s urging, I reluctantly begin to move toward her, the weight of his expectation heavy on my shoulders.

As I approach, I can hear Costantino’s obnoxious voice cutting through the music, grating on my nerves. Gabriella smiles up at him, her laughter bright and carefree, but I see the moment she catches sight of me. My heart races, a mix of protective instinct and the desire to reclaim what is rightfully mine. “Can I cut in?” I ask, my voice firm as I tap my cousin on the shoulder, not allowing any uncertainty to seep through.

Costantino graciously pulls away from my bride-to-be, a smirk lingering on his lips. He gives her a little bow, a mockery of chivalry, and flashes a secret smile meant only for her. “Your fiancé is wonderful, Antonio. You are truly blessed,” he says, the words dripping with insincerity, as if he relishes the moment just a bit too much.

I bet I am. Tight, hard-bodied Gabriella Scott keeps a dozen secrets wrapped up in that satin dress of hers, secrets that shimmer like jewels beneath the soft fabric. Wearing nothing but a smug smile and an air of unshakeable confidence, she steps closer, her fingers reaching out for my hand, a silent invitationthat sends a thrill through me. “Don’t make a scene, amore,” she warns, her voice low and sultry, “not so close to our wedding.”

I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into me with a possessive urgency. Her lush curves stir feelings inside of me that I can’t quite put into words, a tumultuous mix of desire and admiration. “In the Garden of Eden, it was Eve who tempted Adam into sin. Be careful with what you do, Gabriella, lest I be tempted into killing a man for you,” I murmur, my gaze locked onto hers, daring her to challenge me.

Her laughter tinkles through the room, bright and ringing, but I can sense the underlying theatrics; it’s all for show. “Promises, promises, Antonio,” she teases, her eyes dancing with mischief, as if she thrives on the thrill of our exchange.

My cock grows hard beneath my suit pants, a physical manifestation of my mounting desire. Father thought that she would be a subdued woman, stricken by grief after losing her first husband, but the truth is glaringly different. It’s clear that Gabriella was made to be mine. She is sharp and clever, a true maestro who plays men like fiddles, her every move deliberate and captivating. She is the challenge I’ve spent all my life searching for, a tempest I both fear and crave. “I think I’m in love with you,” I confess, the words slipping from my lips, revealing the depths of my entangled emotions.

The smile on her face falters, a subtle crack in her otherwise composed façade. Gabriella abruptly halts her movements in sync with the music, and I feel her being drawn across the floor, as if tethered to me by an invisible string, compelled to follow my lead. “If you’re trying to disarm me, it won’t work,” she declares in a low, steady voice that carries an edge of defiance.

I can’t help but think that it’s working perfectly. I guide her along to the rhythm, sensing only the faintest flicker of resistance in her body. “Why ever would I try to disarm you, Gabriella? The mere thought of you shooting me in the back as I walk away is precisely what keeps me hard.” With a deliberate movement, I jut my hips forward, ensuring that she feels the unmistakable pressure of my erection pressing against her thigh, a tangible reminder of the tension simmering between us.

“You’re disgusting,” she manages to say, though her voice lacks the conviction one would expect from such a declaration.

The urge to strip her bare and demonstrate just how disgusting I really am surges within me, nearly overwhelming my better judgment. She wouldn’t be so quick to use that word if I had her completely at my mercy, buried deep inside of her. “I want you to scream those words tomorrow night when I fuck the attitude out of you,” I promise, my voice low and enticing.

That’s where I realize I’ve crossed a line. Gabriella yanks herself away from me, her glare piercing and filled with indignation. She opens her mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of words, but then she hesitates, her eyes darting around to take in the crowd. While a few guests have drifted away, the majority of our wedding parties remain engaged in their revelry—dancing with dates, laughing over drinks at the bar, or seated in small groups, sharing stories about life. “You’re sick,” Gabriella hisses, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an explosive tension that hangs in the air between us.

I bow in her direction, a little smile playing on my lips, though I can feel the tension in the air. “That might be true, gorgeous, but I guarantee that it’ll only take a few days for you to get hooked on my depravity. You’ll see.”

“If I don’t get a disease first,” she replies, her narrowed eyes glinting with mistrust. “I know you’ve slept with half the women in Vegas. After we’re married, I bet you’ll come back for the other half, just to keep things interesting.”

I quickly cover the distance between Gabriella and me, making sure to wear a thin veneer of happiness when I look at her, even as my heart races. “I would never defile my marriage vows, Gabriella. What I’ve done before,whoeverI’ve done before, are in the past.Youare my future;youwill be my everything from this moment on. That is my vow to you, and I intend to keep it.”

Gabriella’s expression shifts, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face as she processes my words. “You’re a Bianchi. Your father steps out on your mother practically every other weekend. You don’t owe me anything. You have a history of abuse. You’re the owner of?—“

“—several strip clubs and seedier joints than that where you can get anything you want for $20. I don’t have a sparkling reputation,” I admit, the clench of my jaw betraying my irritation. “But you are my partner for the rest of my life. I am not my father. I respect the women in my life, and that includes you.”

The concept is hard for her to grasp fully. In our lifestyle, far too many men indulge in taking mistress after mistress, allowing their vows to slip away into oblivion. Monogamy is an American ideal—one that none of us seem to take seriously, except for the wives who cling to it with desperate hope. I might have slept my way through a cavalcade of tourists and locals, but that chapter of my life is closed. My sun will rise and set on Gabriella Andretti-Scott, and I will dedicate myself to her entirely.

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