Page 17 of The Leader

The blonde had frozen, an unsure look passing on her face as to whether she should stay or go.

Franco made a step toward her, trying to get in her face, but suddenly his demeanor changed. In fact, it changed so fast, Jazzy almost got a whiplash. She followed his gaze to the point over her shoulder.

Gio stood behind her. When he put a hand on the small of her back, for some reason, she relaxed.

“Problem, Caruso?”

Franco cleared his throat. “No problem. I was just wishing my sister-in-law a long and happy marriage. Gave her some pointers, you know. About how to keep her husband happy.”

After a wink, which infuriated her, he straightened his dress jacket and went back into the living room.

“Um, I should probably—” the blonde stammered, trying to follow back inside as well.

“Hold it right there.” She might not be able to do something about the lowlife that married her sister, but this bimbo, who apparently had no problem fucking a married man at a wedding, was another thing. “Judging by the lack of surprise on your face when I mentioned Franco is married, I’m guessing you knew you were screwing with a married man.”

The blonde turned crimson and gripped her clutch, as if she needed something to hold onto for support.

“If I ever see you anywhere around him again, I will kick your ass. Now, get the hell out of my house.” Jazzy didn’t look back to see Gio’s reaction at her kicking his guest out. There was a chance of him picking the blonde’s side. After all, this was his house; Jazzy hadn’t even had a proper tour yet. He might call her on the fact that she didn’t have the right to throw out anyone.

When the blonde looked at Gio with a hint of ill-concealed longing in her eyes, Jazzy’s anxiety level reached a spike.

“You’ve heard my wife, Lisa. Get out.”

When Lisa slithered away to the coat room, Jazzy turned to Gio. She was about to thank him, when he swept her off her feet and carried her back up the stairs.

“Threshold,” he said, as he took her inside their bedroom.

CHAPTER 11

JAZZY

Jazzy hadn’t expected Gio to go all traditional on her, carrying her over the threshold and softly placing her before their bed. It was only now that she noticed the sparsely-lit candles and rose petals on the bed. Someone had gone through the trouble to spruce the place up, make it look like a honeymoon suite, complete with a bottle of champagne on the nightstand.

“This bedroom is fucking Switzerland,” he said out of the blue. No need to explain; she wasn’t supposed to drag their shit in here.

Now that she was alone with him, she wasn’t sure how to act. Obviously, she knew what was coming, since it was their wedding night, and really, she would be the worst kind of hypocrite if she denied wanting to have sex with him. Still, part of her was unsure what was going to happen. Would he be gentle, passionate, or an absolute beast, out of revenge for her fleeing him. She just didn’t know, because she didn’t knowhim. This, and a million other thoughts, sped through her mind as she sat on the edge of the bed. She was kind of left at his mercy, and she didn’t like that feeling one bit.

Jazzy looked up when she realized she was staring at his feet. Gio lifted her up from the bed and turned her around, sweeping her long curls over one shoulder. Slowly, he started to unbutton her dress.

Suddenly, she felt ecstatic that the vintage dress had a million tiny buttons in the back. After the first two, she heard him curse and she couldn’t keep her smile in. With that, a part of her nerves calmed.

“Find that funny, do you,bella?”

There was no anger in his voice. “I do,” she admitted.

He let go of fiddling with the buttons and grabbed her hips, pulling her back against his chest. Even through all the layers of her dress, she could feel his heat. Giovanni Detta was hot, both in a figurative way of speech, as well as in the literal sense.

He started dotting her shoulder with kisses, making her melt against his much larger frame. Her head ended up in the crook of his neck. He put one arm around her middle, holding her steady, while the other went to the top of her bodice. With one pull, he ripped open the top, making her breasts spill out of her dress. A beat later, she stepped out of her wedding gown, leaving her in nothing but thigh high silk stockings and a tiny slip. He turned her to face him.

His eyes were dark and simmering with lust.

“Oh, how long I have waited for this moment.”

As had she, though she would never admit it. Also, all she managed to get out was another moan because his hand found her nipple. His finger was circling the bud, pulling it, to make it longer and hard.

When he pinched her nipple, she couldn’t stop a hiss.

This time, it was him chuckling. “You like that, don’t you? A bite of pain.”

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