Page 48 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“Thank you.” I took the proffered food before he could feed me, slipping it between my lips. The rich cheese and spiced meat should have been indulgent, but they tasted bland on my tongue. I quickly washed the bite down with my wine before he offered me another bite.

Ettore’s lips curved into a hungry smile as he watched me like a starving cat watching a mouse. He drank deeply from his glass, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of wine on the rim.

My hand shook as I lifted the wine to my mouth, and the man in front of me didn’t miss it. He rumbled his approval and used the knife to spear a piece of meat and cheese, his teeth prying it from the tip of the blade. His jaw flexed as he chewed, but his eyes stayed focused on my face.

The small bites of food sat heavily in my stomach. I looked away, unable to stand the crawling sensation creeping across my skin. Escape, my mind urged. I cleared my throat and whispered, “I’m tired. Thank you for the food.”

When I tried to take my glass to the sink, Ettore stopped me, his hand wrapping around my wrist. He plucked the unfinished wine from my hand and set it on the counter, then held my hand up, examining my fingers and touching them to his stubbled cheek. I couldn’t suppress the tremors of revulsion his touch caused. My body temperature seemed to drop.

“You look so delicate in the moonlight,” he whispered low. “So breakable.”

Ettore pulled me close, inhaling the lingering scent of shampoo on my hair, his hot breath warming my scalp. He huffed out a sound of pleasure before running his nose across my ear to my cheek, kissing me with cold, damp lips and softly murmuring, “Goodnight, Olesya. Pleasant dreams.”

I held my breath until he released me, then whirled and fled the kitchen, heedless of how it might make me look. Escape was more important than appearing weak. I scrubbed my cheek with the heel of my hand as I sprinted upstairs to my room, locking the door behind me and slumping against the wood, panting and shivering with fear. I couldn’t rid my face of the feel of Ettore’s lips against my flesh. It burned like ice.

My dreams would be anything but pleasant with the memory of his mouth on me and the dark promise laced within his words.

Chapter Fifteen

Olesya would never be satisfied staying home and doing nothing all day. That’s why it concerned me when Diego reported that she suddenly started keeping to herself. If she wasn’t in the kitchen with Martina, she stayed in her room, doing who the hell knew what. She only came to dinner if I was home.

Perhaps my father had startled her more than I realized last week when he talked about putting a hit out on her brothers. If I were in her shoes, I’d be just as upset. I’d raze the world to the ground to save my siblings. The threat against my family was why we were at war with the Zolotovs in the first place, so I could relate to how Olesya felt.

I could no longer hold her responsible for everything happening between our families. If I were honest with myself, I never really had. She’d been the obvious answer to my problem, but deep down, I’d never let go of my feelings for her entirely. I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, though.

Olesya’s quiet acquiescence spoke more of her spirit breaking than adjusting to life as my wife. I wanted the verbal sparring, the tension that led to explosive sex. I wanted more moments in the dark, to taste her at every opportunity. My affection was quickly turning toward obsession.

Tearing my unfocused gaze away from the city skyline outside my office window, I glanced down at my phone, seeing it was nearly noon. On impulse, I picked up the device and dialed.

“Mr. Neretti,” Diego answered.

“What is my wife doing?” I asked without preamble.

“She’s in her room again, sir,” he replied.

I drummed my fingers against the surface of my desk. “Did she come down for breakfast?”

“No, sir.”

Her reclusive behavior couldn’t continue. I needed to know what was going on, needed to make her happy. “Tell her to get dressed in something she can wear out. I want her to eat lunch in the kitchen—have Martina make whatever Olesya wants. Then, bring her to my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call and texted my men, who waited in the company break room while I worked. Olesya had appreciated the purple dress. A little shopping trip should cheer her up. I might even take her out to dinner.

Satisfied with my solution, I could focus on my work for the next few hours. Diego texted me when they arrived, and I gathered the papers on my desk, sorting what I could so it was ready to go the following day.

I stood as they entered my office and froze at the sight of my wife in a white summer dress that showed off her modest breasts with a sweetheart neckline and tucked in at her trim waist before flaring out and floating down to her knees. She loved those white sandals I gave her and wore them with everything.

Forcing air into my lungs, I stepped around my desk and kissed Olesya, my entire body warming at the feel of her lips against mine again. I released her too soon. One kiss wasn’t enough. As she turned away, I tugged her back into my arms.

Her eyes widened when she saw the predatory look on my face, and I felt her tremble beneath my hold. “Dante, what are you—”

I silenced her words with another kiss, one intimate enough to have the door latching quietly behind Diego as he left to give us privacy. My cock throbbed, desperately pointing toward the object of my desire. Olesya shifted, and I growled, grasping her hips and grinding my confined erection against her cleft.

When I pulled away the second time, she was flushed and breathless, her lips wet and swollen. It made me want to see my cock in her mouth again. I glanced at the clock on the wall, gauging whether we had enough time for a quick fuck in my office.

“No,” Olesya interrupted my thoughts and brought me back from the gutter. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, arching a brow at me.

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