Page 11 of The Sound in Silence

Kiss. I hadn’t thought about this part.

Idiot, he’s marrying you to eventually breed you. Not for your stellar personality.

Erico’s hand goes to my hip as he steadies me. He pauses, his eyes searching mine, although I’m not sure what for. Seeking permission? Already gave that the moment I agreed to the union.

This has to happen…so I lift onto my toes because even in the heels, I’m still shorter than him. My hands land on his arms, the rich material of his suit like silk. It’s then I realize, the last time I kissed someone was…Fuck, I don’t even remember.That’s how long it’s been.

His other hand cups my face the same way he had inside Nico’s office last week. With his hold, I’m trapped. He brings me closer and lowers his head.

For some reason, I imagined a chaste, cold peck. An unfeeling kiss to seal the unfeeling marriage about unfold.

That’s not what I get at all.

Erico’s lips press firmly against mine, soft and melding all at the same time. Almost with a vicious roughness, but I wouldn’t refer to this kiss as rough by any means. More like, impactful. Telling. Possessive.

I kiss him back.

The tightly strung nerves in my arms, shoulders, and back decompress with every pass of his lips. My fingers curl in his jacket, not as a way to keep him steady, but more so to avoid me touching him. My lips open a fraction, testing, and I feel the gentle touch of his tongue once before he pulls back.

His dark eyes seem even blacker, the colour expanding most of his eye. He’s breathing heavy but I’m…

…I’mbreathing.Genuine air for what feels like the first time in years.

The minister pronounces us husband and wife, and while those terms should be my focus, they’re not. Instead, my mind is too busy reliving that kiss. The way, for even a moment, I stopped thinking about everything else. Stopped feeling anything other than his mouth on mine. Stopped hating myself for just a fucking minute.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

The minister gestures toward a small table a few feet away that I hadn’t noticed earlier. He directs Erico and I to sign our names, and without thinking twice, knowing at this point, it’s too late to turn back, I etch my signature on the line. Della and Erico’s cousin sign as witnesses and then it’s done.

A marriage certificate. A wedding officiated. A ring of ownership.

A new name: Ariella Rossi.

Erico

Leaving the Corsetti household was an event that took longer than expected, so by the time the Rossi private plane lifts from the airfield, only a stretch away from where the Corsetti’s plane is parked, the sun is nearly set, which means we’re technically running late.

Ariella takes the couch across from me and Caladin and pulls her legs up, curling into a ball as she stares at the ground. She doesn’t hide her emotions now, or perhaps she’s thinking about the goodbye she shared with her sister.

Which was partly the reason leaving had taken so long, but since I was robbing this woman of her entire life—the country she’s grown up in, the city she’s lived in, her newfound family, and the only remaining survivor of her original one—I wasn’t going to rush her out the door.

Besides, the look Della continued to throw my way was a threat alone.Do not rush this or I’ll have your balls.

Della refused to let Ariella go, but it was Ariella who broke contact. She has less reservations coming with me, which only makes me want to know her reasoning more. Whatever’s in her head allowed her to go with less emotional turmoil than I expected.

All the Corsetti women took turns hugging her goodbye while the men spoke with Caladin and me. Nico had a few comments about her protection and well-being but each one of them was cautious to not overstep. Everyone there knows, no matter what they all feel about her now, she’s not their concern.

She’smine.

I glance at the gold band on my finger, marking me as hers too. A piece of metal I knew I’d eventually wear. Hell, by the end of this month, one way or the other.

I have a fucking wife. Ariella Rossi sounds more right in my head than it should for a marriage that means nothing to me.

When the stewardess from the other end of the plane makes a noise moving around a tray, Ariella jumps. She’s barely looked at me since leaving her home. A drive that was prickling with disdain and discomfort as she stared out the window, sitting the farthest from me and my cousin.

Caladin shares a look with me before his attention reverts to his phone. He’s barely spoken since we initially arrived to the Corsetti mansion, but I know my cousin well enough to see he’s bristling with energy, his unspoken statements about to burst.

With a heavy sigh, I gesture to the back of the plane, to the single, small doorway, and tell her, “There’s a room back there if you’d like a nap. Flight’s slightly under two hours.”

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