Page 11 of His to Ruin

“How dare you!” She jabs a finger at my chest. “I am not some whore you can feel up in a parking lot.”

Her indignation amuses me. Curving my hand around the back of her head, I drag her closer. “Oh, but you are a whore,Olivia. You’re my whore, and soon you’ll learn exactly what that means.”

Taking hold of her arm, I lead her back across the parking lot to where Damiano is standing by his car. He looks tense as he scans Olivia’s body. If he was any other man, I’d gouge his eyes out for daring to examine her like that. Satisfied she’s in one piece, he nods to me, then turns and gets back behind the wheel of his car.

Olivia reaches for the handle of the back door, but I put my hand over hers, preventing her from opening it. I lean in close, and she shudders.

“One week, Olivia. You’ll stand with me and say your vows like you mean them or I’ll tear your life to pieces. By the time I’m finished with you, there won’t be anything left for the vultures to pick over. Understand?”

“I understand,” she hisses.

Loving her fire, I don’t retaliate when she elbows me in the ribs and shoves me out of her way. No other woman would dare to treat me that way. Nor would any man, for that matter.

Olivia gets into the car and Damiano drives away. I allow myself a smile. Making this woman mine is going to be even more fun than I thought.

CHAPTER 4

Olivia

This week is going by too quickly. I haven’t come to terms with the idea of becoming Mrs. Piotr Reznov. I can’t imagine what my life will be like. Piotr spends a lot of time in Europe. Will he expect me to travel with him or will he tuck me away in some apartment on the Upper East Side and leave me to my own devices?

I have no clue what he wants from a wife. He hasn’t spoken to me since he shoved me into Damiano’s car four nights ago and I sure as hell don’t intend to call him up and ask. My cousin gave me Piotr’s number, but I won’t use it. As old-fashioned as it sounds, I expect him to be the one to chase after me.

Though there’s nothing romantic about our union, I still want the wedding to be special. After all, the chances of me ever marrying again are slim. Divorce just doesn’t happen in our world, and Piotr’s too careful to ever get taken out by one of his enemies. The only person who’s likely to get close enough to slithis throat is me, and I don’t have the stomach for that. I’ll just have to suck it up and make the best of a bad situation.

After I had dinner with the Russian asshole in Florence, Antonio ordered me to get my ass home. Damiano and Lorenzo came with me. Their brother, Gabriele, won’t be coming for the wedding, but that’s no surprise. He’s locked himself away in his mansion in Rome and refuses to see anyone. He conducts what business he can remotely and delegates the rest to his brothers.

Thankfully, my overbearing cousins are staying at The Vicente, my sister-in-law Emilia’s hotel. Having them underfoot in my family home would be more than I could bear right now. It’s bad enough that my brothers keep dropping in to make sure I’m behaving myself. Well, three of my brothers. Matteo hasn’t spoken to me since my return to the States, but his silence sends a clear message. He doesn’t care if I want to marry Reznov or not. Even if I told him Piotr spanked me, he wouldn’t give a shit.

As I recall how I felt when Piotr’s palm hit my bare butt cheeks, a shiver runs down my spine. I shouldn’t have liked it when he did that, but it stirred something deep inside me, that primal desire I already knew existed. I want a man like Piotr to dominate me in the bedroom, to bend me to his will. He’ll open my eyes to a world of pleasure. I thought I’d found a man who could do that once before, but he turned out to be a creep. Piotr won’t disappoint me sexually, but I’m afraid he’ll carry his need for control into every aspect of our lives. That I can’t allow.

“Livvy.” My sister-in-law’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “We’re here.”

“Oh.” I was so distracted I didn’t notice we’d pulled up at the bridal boutique.

Emilia studies me closely, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

As Dante Parisi, Antonio’s right-hand man and my shadow for the day, opens the door, I hop out onto the sidewalk and wait for Emilia to follow. With so little time to organize a wedding, the only way to get everything done is to divide and conquer. My mother has gone up to Connecticut to get our Westport mansion ready. It’s where I wanted to hold the wedding. Piotr and I will exchange vows in the library with sixty carefully selected guests to witness the formalities.

Then a party for our extended family, friends, and business associates will be held in a marquee on the lawn. The most important members of the Volante and Reznov organizations will be there. After missing out on Alessandro’s, Leo’s, and Matteo’s weddings, it’s essential that Antonio’s men are included in mine. It’s important to foster a sense of unity. Many felt snubbed when my brothers robbed them of the opportunity to witness their marriages.

My brother Leo and his wife Vinnie have also gone to Connecticut. Leo will oversee security arrangements and Vinnie’s taking care of the catering. Her best friend, Beniamino, is an incredible chef, so he’ll do the actual cooking.

My other sister-in-law, Isabella, is dealing with the flowers, cake, photographer, and anything else she can think of. I believe she’s roped Giulia in to help, but I haven’t spoken to Matteo’s wife since I returned either.

With everyone else occupied, Emilia volunteered to help me find a dress. I’m glad to have her with me. Of all my brothers’ wives,she’s the one I like best. She’s closest to my age and is possibly the sweetest person on Earth. Life has thrown a lot of shit at her in the past year, but she never complains. She’s the walking embodiment of the idea of counting your blessings, focusing on all she’s built and not what she’s lost. It’s why I’ve asked her to be a bridesmaid, along with my cousin Alessia, who’ll be joining us any minute when she’s done with her early morning class at NYU.

“This is exciting,” Emilia says as we walk past Dante into the boutique. “Alessandro chose my dress for me, so I didn’t get the chance to go shopping.”

“I know.” My brother may be a controlling asshole, but I can’t fault his taste. He chose the perfect dress for Emilia before he even met her. He openly admits now that he was smitten with the pretty Italian from the moment he first saw a photo of her. Their marriage resulted from an arrangement between her grandfather and our family. Poor Emilia knew nothing about it, or her family’s mafia ties, until Alessandro swept into her life. “Do you regret not picking your own dress?”

Emilia shakes her head and smiles fondly. “No. He chose exactly what I’d have picked.”

She has a dreamy look in her eyes, and I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever get like that over Piotr. It would be nice to think we could grow to love each other, but I won’t hold my breath.

“Miss Volante?” An older, gray-haired woman rushes to greet us. “I’m Clare Maxwell. I’m honored you’ve chosen my little store. May I get you some champagne?”

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