Page 25 of Wedlocked

He looked down at me, his eyes hooded. “I’m not sure.”

“I can fend for myself for a few minutes on our wedding night.” I nodded to Isabella and my brother who were leaving the floor and heading to a bar that’d been setup for those not wanting to wait for the champagne that was being circulated around on trays by the wait-staff. “I wanted to catch up with my brother anyway.”

Ethan’s mouth compressed, as though the last thing he wanted was for me to chat to a member of my family, a sibling who unequivocally hated Ethan and his entire family. His hands tightened on my ass before he released me and stepped back. “If you’re sure?”

I arched a brow. “I’m positive.”

With a stiff nod he said, “I know I don’t have to tell you not to go anywhere. The repercussions for even trying would be… disastrous.”

He expected me to forget about my coming death, yet he threw it in my face the moment it benefitted him. I folded my arms across my chest, the bodice of my wedding dress suddenly too constrictive, my voice too hoarse. “I wouldn’t even get out the front door without your goons dragging me kicking and screaming back to you.”

His lips curled into a cold smile, his scar bleached white under the lighting. He nodded. “I won’t be long.”

I watched him walk away, my heartbeat accelerating in my tight chest. He was so fluid and limber, so charismatic it was hard not to stare after him. How was I going to keep his attention? It wasn’t like I was one of the many professional call girls he brought in to satisfy his dark, carnal nature. I was inexperienced and—

I lifted my chin. I might be innocent in many ways, but I was passionate and I was most definitely a survivor. And I was willing to endure whatever perversion he required so that I stayed alive.

The back of my neck prickled and I swung around to see the hard-eyed stares of two men in their Armani suits. My mouth dried. If Carlo was the consigliere then these men were just as important, maybe more so? That they looked familiar only heightened my unease.

One of them sported a dark, trimmed beard, his stylishly disheveled hair a little lighter, his dark eyes unsmiling as he smirked. The other man was smooth-shaven, his face harder and his eyes colder. His hair was a lighter brown and worn longer, brushing his shoulders.

Chills cascaded down my spine as I swung away from their intense, glittering stares. They weren’t just hardened criminals, they were innately menacing, a threat I recognized to the marrow of my bones.

I needed to get away.

Of course, I couldn’t do that. Not here, not now. I hurried over to the bar, to where my brother and sister-in-law, Isabella, were enjoying a drink or three.

She turned to me with a wide smile, one that faded as she took me in. “Sabrina, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Salvatore frowned, then searched the room, instantly suspicious. But of course the men had already disappeared. “What’s going on?” he asked, his lip curling then as he added, “Where’s your…husband?”

I swallowed. “He’s catching up with his father.” I nodded at the bartender. “A double shot of whisky.”

“Coming right up,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his apologetic eyes.

I choked back a tight, hysterical laugh. The bartender felt sorry for me! The staff clearly knew better than to believe in my wedding fairytale. I’d let myself be happy for a short time on the dancefloor, but now my despair was back in full force, and probably etched all over my face. They’d be wondering how I’d gotten myself into such a terrible mess.

“Sabrina?” my brother growled. “What is it?’

I shook my head. “Honestly, it’s nothing. I just caught sight of a couple of Ethan’s men.” I sucked in a steadying breath. “Nothing much frightens me, but they scared the shit out of me.”

Isabella tilted her head to the side, studying me. “Which men? I can’t recall anyone who’d make you feel so…intimidated.”

Salvatore turned narrowed eyes on her. “She’s been brought up around men just like your brother and me. She knows to listen to her judgement when a threat is near.”

I bit my bottom lip, then smiled at my brother for his belief in me, despite my foolish actions that had led to this marriage. Accepting the drink, I took my time chugging it down, enjoying the burn in my throat. I nodded at the bartender. “Keep them coming.”

Salvatore frowned. “Unless you want to pass out on your wedding night, I don’t think this is a good idea. Or maybe it is. It might make sex with your husband more…bearable.”

“Too late for that,” I said with a giggle. “The deed has already been done. And newsflash, it wasn’t unbearable, it was—“

“Enough,” Salvatore cut in, his voice arctic and his eyes flashing with a need to murder someone. “He disrespected you!”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s the twenty-first century. Women often have sex before marriage.” I snorted. “I’m sure you’ve slept with plenty of unmarried women.”

He nodded, then bit out, “Married ones, too. But that’s beside the point. I’m talking about my damn sister!”

Isabella stabbed a finger into his chest. “And most of the women you fucked would have also had brothers who would have liked to preserve their sisters’ dignity and respect.”

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