Page 241 of Merciless Desires

Marcella crossed the space toward me, and as she neared, I drew her against my side with a hand on her hip. I felt her stiffen beneath my grasp, and as much as I tried to ignore it, it pissed me off. She was going to be my wife soon. She would have to get used to being at my side. It was where she belonged, whether she liked it or not.

My own coldness only pissed me off further. How could I expect her to simply melt against me when she didn’t even know me? I had been actively avoiding her, trying to let her get settled in this space at her own pace, yet that only seemed to hinder any progress I had expected.

I had no idea what I was doing. No woman had lived in this home. Sure, some had stayed, but were gone as quickly as the sun had crested over the coast. I was only good for sex and money. I wasn’t good for affection.

I dug my fingers into Marcella’s hip, stopping her from descending down the stairs. All eyes were already on us, since a good portion of the second floor of my home was open to the first.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, as if we could be heard over the chatter from downstairs.

“We will only do this if you want to do this.”

When she tilted her head to look up at me, I was surprised to find her smiling.

“I want this.”

I was reading into that statement, I had to. To keep myself sane.

I threaded my fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her forward, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. I closed my eyes and hoped hers were closed too, and then pulled back, readjusted my grip on her, and guided us down the stairs.

Marcella had barely placed the toe of her shoe on the stone floor before she was yanked out of my grasp and passed around the capo wives. They offered to help her plan our wedding just to be involved. They didn’t care about her. They cared about being seen.

Their husbands watched, most with a look of disdain on their faces. Why was having a loveless relationship the norm in our world?

“Figlio.”

I suppressed a groan and turned to see my father wrapped around a woman who was not wife number seven. She was young, which was exactly my father’s type, but blonde…which wasn’t.

“Meet Melinda.”

“Hi,” she sang and stepped forward with her hand extended, waiting for me to kiss it like she was some kind of princess.

“Hello,” I replied through gritted teeth.

This woman was younger than me, which wasn’t uncommon for my father. What was uncommon was the way he was flaunting her in front of everyone like this. I guess he had assumed that the attention would be on me, so he could get away with it.

But the attention wasn’t on me. It was on Marcella, who deserved every bit of it.

No matter where I stood, I could always see her. I refused to let her out of my sight for a single moment. But what made it all even better was the way she kept peeking over at me, like she enjoyed knowing I was watching her.

Her posture relaxed as she spoke with women that she was familiar with, but in a different capacity. She had been aware of these capo wives, knew their husbands through her papà. But now…they worshipped her.

I wasn’t the only one watching Marcella. My papà had his eye on her, trying to find a weakness that he could use against her. Against me.

I was her strength, and she was my weakness, according to him.

Marcella was stronger than he believed. Stronger than I had assumed, which was wrong of me. My intention had never been to break her, but simply bend her will. I needed her to believe that this was what was best, even though I wasn’t sure of it myself.

I leaned against the bar that was set in the foyer and unbuttoned my suit jacket, watching my future wife as she tilted her head toward the ceiling and laughed at something said by one of the women around her. I admired her throat, which I knew would look good in my hand and probably tasted as sweet as she smelled.

I wasn’t a strong man when it came to keeping my mind off what I wanted to do to her when no one was watching. Hell, even if this entire room watched.

The only word that repeated in my head was mine, mine, mine.

Appetizers were served to our guests that filled my home, interspersed with guards who blended in. There wasn’t a single person here who wasn’t invited.

“Mr. Cortese.” The voice that called my name sounded weak.

I turned my glare on Moretti. Of fucking course he was growing a heart at the same time I was.

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