Page 36 of The Savage

As we kneel on the fur rug surrounded by cheering candlelight, I kiss my prince with all the romance of a fairy-tale. This may not last as long as it takes the candles to burn out, but I’m not turning my back on the only happiness I have ever had in my life. He makes me happy. He completes me and imagining being his wife makes me the proudest woman in the world, because who wouldn’t want this man to be their husband? He is everything.

CHAPTER24

IVAN

Throughout dinner, I thought of little else. The idea came to me like a bolt of lightning when I was getting ready. Marriage between us would whip the rug out from under Massimo’s feet. She would belong to me, to the Bratva and there is nothing he could do that wouldn’t start a war. It’s our way. Family is everything and a mafia wife is protected for as long as she carries that title. Only her husband determines her fate, and like my friends, I will marry for power. Power over my enemy and in doing so, I will set Charlotte free.

I’m not sure if my friends will see it quite as clearly and I’m strangely nervous about that. After all, it may backfire on us spectacularly and Winter may suffer the consequences, but I have to try at least. Charlotte is going nowhere without me by her side.

As I kiss my future bride, I know we need to act fast because time is against us and as much as I want to seal this deal tonight, I kind of want to give Charlotte the complete fairy-tale and our night of passion will be as husband and wife. As it should be and just as I told her, a mafia bride needs to be a virgin on her wedding night.

That’s why this is urgent because I want to be buried deep inside her virgin pussy as soon as possible, because claiming this woman as my wife is everything to me and not just because of sex.

Because of her.

Because she is the one spark of light in my black heart and is melting the ice inside me. I crave her; I desire her, and I want her, and I want to do it in the right way for her.

I pull away and say huskily, “I’ll arrange for a priest to visit and make this official. We will be husband and wife as soon as I can arrange it, but it may be a race against time.”

The fact she looks so anxious makes me kiss her again, like a dying man enjoying his last wish. Now I’ve reasoned with my feelings for her, I am more afraid than ever because losing Charlotte would rip out my heart and I may never survive from that and making her my wife will save us both. I wasn’t kidding about that and with her beside me, I see a different future than the one I always imagined.

I wonder what’s running through her pretty mind. As we walk back to the guest room, I’m guessing she’s worried. Hell, I’m worried because I’ve made a decision that could potentially change everyone’s lives and the people it affects may not understand.

Charlotte’s voice quivers slightly as she says in a hushed whisper, “Ivan.”

“Yes, princess.”

“I didn’t just dream that. You really did ask me to marry you.”

“I did.”

“And I really said yes.”

“You did.”

I chuckle softly as she stops and wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my chest and says sweetly, “Thank you for asking.”

I roll my eyes. “Forever the finished lady, aren’t you, Princess? There’s no need to thank me because I should be the one thanking you.”

“Why?” She really doesn’t get it and I lift her face to mine and say huskily, “Because regardless of our current situation, I would have asked, anyway.”

The delight in her eyes makes me so happy and I can’t remember ever feeling like this. It’s as if a great weight has fallen from my soul and I am free for probably the first time in my life. Being around an innocent lady like Charlotte makesmebetter. I think before I act, and I consider the consequences of all my words and actions on how she will react to them.

As I stroke her face lightly, I love how her eyes close, and she smiles softly and leans into my hand. She is like a delicate butterfly I need to handle with care, and I can’t resist leaning down and brushing my lips against her delicate ones before whispering, “Go and get ready for bed. I need to make a call.”

She nods and as I open the door for her, I take a moment to watch her glide across the room before disappearing into the dressing room.

Then like a man heading off to face judgment day, I walk back to the living room and dread the next call I must make.

* * *

It’sas if time freezes as I contemplate my next conversation and, for Dutch courage, I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sit on the couch, staring into the flames flickering in the fireplace and take a deep breath.

Then I make the call that will change everything.

“Ivan.”

“Angelo.”

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