Page 40 of The One Night Match
“Oh no, I like the dress. I just never want any other asshole to ever see you in it again after tonight, which means it needs to go.”
I sigh. “What do you propose I wear outside the house then?”
“A potato sack should do nicely.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“No, I’m a jealous bastard who has no intention of sharing his too beautiful for her own good wife.”
The blush that sweeps across my cheeks is completely involuntary, as is the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips.
Goddamn it, this man knows how to play dirty.
The drive to the Drummond estate is short but tense, considering the way Cruz holds onto my thigh the whole way, his fingers trailing higher and higher with each mile we drive.
Ben pulls up out front of a mansion, and I sigh. This is what I expect to see when I arrive at the home of someone high up in the Mafia, but I find myself longing for the warmth of Cruz’s house.
He squeezes my thigh but makes no move to climb out ahead of me. “If I’m cold toward you tonight, I want you to know it’s not because I want to be. It’s because I don’t want anyone inside this house to realize how much hurting you could hurt me.”
I nod slowly, trying to internally reason with my heart as it tries to beat out of my chest at the prospect that someone cares so much about me. “I understand. I’ve been around these kindsof things my whole life. I know I’m to be seen and not heard unless spoken to.”
He growls, and my eyes flash up to meet his. “I fucking hate this shit. I promise it won’t always be like this. I promise I’m going to make this life safer for you.”
I’m about to respond when the door swings open behind him and cuts me off, which is probably for the best given how scrambled my mind is every time Cruz says something so completely opposite to what any other Mafia boss would say.
How did I end up married to the least Mafia-bossy Mafia boss in the country?
TWENTY
CRUZ
I’m still seething as we cross the threshold into the classic mansion I spent too much time in growing up.
Dennis has always been a piece of work, but his son is worse. I don’t know what it is about Timothy that makes my skin crawl, but what I do know is that he’s the last person I want anywhere near my wife, and don’t even get me started on Monica. Her mother married Dennis a few years ago, and she’s been obsessed with rising to the top of the organization, which unfortunately means she clings to me like I hung the fucking moon.
Terry, their maid, takes our coats, and I lead Riley deeper into the house.
I tried to get us out of this. Really, I did. But the only way Dennis and the other guys who were loyal to my father are ever going to fall in line is if I show them the respect they absolutely do not deserve.
“Ah, our fearless leader has finally graced us with his presence,” Ricardo says slyly from his perch on the leather Chesterfield in the corner, his wife quietly sitting beside him with her hands in her lap. Trisha is a nice woman, but she’s beenwalked all over for years, making her meek and shy, a fate I refuse to allow my own wife to fall victim to.
“It’s 6:59. We’re actually a minute early,” I say, tugging Riley into my side to hide her body from these piranhas. If I catch any of these fuckers eyeing my girl, they’re going to lose more than just their positions in the family.
It would be easier if I just ended them all. It would be easy enough to do—just a few bullets and a trip to the pig farm—but Colten and I haven’t been able to confidently trace how deep the poison has spread. Despite his spending the last year monitoring everyone who works for us, I’m not certain enough that we’ve found all the rats, and therefore, we can’t make our move.
I lead her across the room to a vacant seat and fight my need to drag her into my lap. As badly as I want these assholes to know that Riley is mine and I’ll kill anyone who touches her, I can’t give myself away like that. The ruthless son of Santiago De Luca must never show emotion. That’s the lesson I spent years having drilled into my head.
Let’s just say my father had some unique ways of getting his point across.
Riley folds herself onto the edge of the seat, and I follow suit, wrapping a possessive arm around her shoulders.
“So, Riley, how are you enjoying married life?” Dennis asks, his beady brown eyes locked on the swell of my wife’s breasts. He’s always been a creep, and the fact that my father let him get away with it tells you everything you need to know about what kind of man raised me.
“It’s been wonderful so far.” She smiles up at me. “Thank you so much for having us tonight. Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you, dear. Angela loves hosting, and who am I to deny my beautiful wife?”
I just about throw up in my mouth at how fake every word out of his mouth is, but instead, I squeeze Riley’s shoulder.
