Page 66 of Righteous Deceit

She shakes her head. “No.” She turns, breaking my hold on her arm, and begins her path toward the hotel suite again.

“Why the hotel suite?” I ask. “Surely Salvatore isn’t waiting around to ensure we consummated this farce of a marriage. Not that he’d be able to tell. He knows the ship sailed on your virginity after the first marriage he forced you into, right?”

She ignores me, but her fist clenches at her side, and her shoulders tighten without releasing.

I smile to myself.

I should be telling my wife how beautiful she is and how no bride before her has ever compared. It’s the truth. Sia is a fucking angel to look at. Out of this world exquisite. I’ve never encountered beauty quite like hers. I look at her, and something deep inside me aches with feelings I’ve never felt before. She smiles, and I have to close my eyes to the violent perfection, afraid I’ll do something stupid like beg her to look at me and only me like that for the rest of her existence. Her skin glows, her curves are robust and indulgently enticing. Her body is the sweet sin of sugar, a vice you know will kill you when your gluttonous nature overdoses on the high of succumbing to something so dangerous.

I should be peppering her body with kisses and promises of all the ways I plan to make her come tonight. I’ve thought about it.Fuck.I have fantasized about how I’d make her body bend, quake, and detonate. Instead, I’m purposely baiting her, hating her a little less and myself a little more with every stab that escapes my lips. But I can’t stop it.

I’m angry.

I’m fucking furious.

My body and mind might be caught up in all that she is, but something deeper inside me knows this wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She should’ve fucking talked to me first. If she had sat me down and discussed why she needed this to happen, I don’t think I would have denied her. But sheplayedme. She used me like a fucking pawn in a game I don’t know the fucking rules of. Worse, I don’t know the aim. I have no goddamn idea what she’s trying to achieve.

We arrive at the suite door, and she pulls a key card from her small purse.

My mouth goes dry, and I attempt to swallow.

She enters before me, and all I can think about is there better be booze inside.

My feet freeze when I step into the living area of the apartment.

Rose petals are dusted along the floor, trailing a sensual path into what I can only imagine is the bedroom, and my scowl forms before I can stop it. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—” She begins to speak, but I talk over her.

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

She stares at me wide-eyed. I wish she’d close her eyes. I can’t think straight when the hazel pools of uncertainty and hope lock on me.

“What are you playing at?” I sneer. “You force me into marriage. You take the one fucking thing I keep for myself—my independence. You plan a fucking circus of a wedding, making me look like the world’s stupidest and most gullible cunt. Everyone laughing at how easy it was for the consigliera of Chicago to play a capo of New York.” I clap slowly. “Bravo, Alessia. Brav-fucking-o.”

She shakes her head, and I ignore the tears that spring to her eyes.

“Then this? What about our union screams romance? Do I look like a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy to you? Because I’m not. If I had my way,wife, I’d pin you down in a forest and fuck you raw for fucking me the way you did. I will never give you this.” I throw a hand out toward the rose petals with disgust at myself, at her. I’m losing it. I’m fucking crumbling under the weight of something I don’t understand, and I’m letting this woman witness it.

I walk away before I give more of myself away.

I walk away before I’m tempted to pause enough to see the pain and regret in her beautiful eyes and do something stupid like comfort her.

I slam the door as I leave, taking a full breath and storming down the corridor, ready to inflict violence.

After a few searches on my phone, I call an Uber and pace out front of the hotel as I wait for it to arrive. The car ride is silent, the driver taking one look at my expression and choosing silence over mindless conversation. Likely saving his life with the way my mood is spiraling.

He pulls to a stop outside the address I gave him, and I exit the vehicle without a word.

No one questions me as I walk into the building and toward the reception. A guy not much older than me smiles serenely. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see CJ Lincoln. Tell him it’s Diego Greco, and it’s important.”

He nods once.

Within seconds, he tells me CJ is expecting me and walks me over to a private elevator to take me to the penthouse.

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