Page 10 of Wedlocked

I pulled back, pressing my lips together with a groan threatening to burst free. I wanted to keep my lust on a leash but the bulge in my pants told another story. Though I cared less about what anyone else might think, after all, my sexual appetite was as accepted as my tendency toward violence, there were those here who’d enjoy my downfall by using my wife against me.

It only cemented my decision not to keep her for too long. I’d marry her and extract what information I could out of her while using her family’s influence and power for my own gain, then when the time was right I’d—

“Do you always kiss like the world is about to end?” Sabrina asked, her voice smoky and her eyes shining like stars.

Fuck. Me. Surely a girl who’d come from a family similar to my own didn’t imagine we’d become a happily married couple with two-point-five kids and a white picket fence? That was never going to happen. I’d fuck her out of my system, then I’d fuck her over, literally.

The shadow that immediately encased my heart and settled like deadweight on my shoulders was as familiar to me as the scar that stared back at me in the bathroom mirror morning and night. I’d been stripped of compassion and empathy a long time ago. I could never be vulnerable again, not for anyone or anything.

“I kiss how I like to fuck,” I said smoothly.

She blinked. “Hot and dirty?”

“That’s usually what it takes to get me off.” I wouldn’t mention my fondness for pain, both giving it and receiving it. For the moment, my soon-to-be wife had enough to contend with.

“So it’s all about you?”

A punch in the gut couldn’t have pushed the air any faster out of my lungs. But I smirked, then drawled, “If you’re looking for flowers and rainbows you’ll be bitterly disappointed.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You know you’re not half as bad as what you want people to believe.”

“Careful,” I said softly. “I’d hate to have to prove otherwise.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m delusional,” she said with a faint tremor in her voice. “But I’ve always tried to make lemonade out of lemons. Of course, too often the lemonade gets thrown out along with my optimism.”

The lead singer from the rock band I’d appointed for the night, the one and same who’d been setting up behind the scenes on a temporary stage in the corner of the room, lifted his microphone and boomed out, “Let’s extend huge congratulations once again to your new don, Ethan Agostino! May his reign be long and prolific!”

The crowd cheered and clapped, their attention directed our way yet again when I wanted only to drag Sabrina away from the limelight and enjoy some alone time with her. I managed a smile and met the gazes of some of the guests who were hungry for whatever they could get out of me.

Money. Power. Drugs. Fame.

Then the band exploded into their first set, their performance dragging everyone’s attention back to the entertainment. Sabrina smiled, her hips swaying a little to the rhythm.

A sliver of ice cracked away from my frozen heart. How could she find such joy when she’d just become my prisoner, someone living on borrowed time? But then I’d discovered a long time ago that life was about all about choices. That she chose to keep making lemonade was a credit to her.

My brain flashed with wishful thinking. What would it have been like having her as my wife for real? No doubt she would have triumphed, earning my people’s loyalty and respect.

But was that enough? There would always be someone out to get her just because she was a Costa, just as there would always be someone out to get her to get to me. I couldn’t afford an emotional connection, any connection to her. It would be detrimental to my business and personal goals, my future.

Evander walked past, his outspread hand on the lower back of a woman in a short, dusky pink dress that fit her like a second skin. He winked and grinned, then disappeared into the throng of people already dancing on the impromptu dance floor.

I smirked. He was a magnet to the ladies. That the woman with him could probably smell sex on him didn’t appear to deter her in any way.

Even my innocent Sabrina had recovered quickly after seeing me with two other women. But then, with her upbringing, what she’d witnessed was probably nothing out of the ordinary. My gut clenched. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. A part of me wanted to shelter her, while a darker part of me wanted to involve her in it. Make her crave what I craved.

“Let’s dance,” I said.

She arched a silver brow. “Do I get a choice this time?”

I drew her forward with me. “No.”

If she wanted to baulk she didn’t show it. She followed like a dutiful little wife-to-be. My cock jerked. I couldn’t wait to see just how dutiful she’d be when I pushed her to her limits. Something told me she’d meet my expectations, maybe even surpass them.

I grimaced. So much for wanting to shelter her. Maybe she was right and the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree. I wasn’t considerate enough to think too deeply about my depraved nature. I was a survivor, little more than a product of my upbringing. She of all people should understand that.

I put my hands on her hips and tugged her closer, against my arousal. I drew in a ragged breath. But though her body stiffened momentarily, she didn’t pull away. I couldn’t imagine she was anything but innocent; she would have had very little opportunity for sexual relations. Not when her dad had kept her in seclusion, isolating her so much few knew what she’d even looked like, including me.

That my father had recognized her didn’t trouble me too much. He had spies in every mobster family, along with records of all those he kept tabs on. That same information was now mine to access and I intended to do exactly that in the near future, especially with the news of mine and Sabrina’s impending marriage spreading fast.

---