Page 1 of Already His

Chapter 1

Mia

The first time I met Elliot Winter, I was shimmying into my bridesmaid’s dress in a freezing cold, cramped bathroom at the back of St. Augustine’s church in Brooklyn. He barged in without knocking, and I almost kicked my make up bag into the toilet.

“Excuse me! It’s occupied,” I gasped out while trying desperately to pull the long chiffon skirts down from their current position of being tucked into my panties.

He stood there, looking at me without the slightest hint of embarrassment. Of course, men who looked like him were seldom embarrassed, I guessed. Tall and fit, he was dark, intense and just a little terrifying. I priced his suit at five figures. I don’t like to feel intimidated by arrogant, handsome men who barge into places like they own them. I straightened up and gave him a cool look.

“Try locking the door, if you don’t want to be disturbed,” he said curtly. I gaped at his rudeness.

“The lock is broken,” I ground out, and received an indolent shrug.

“Not my problem,” he’d said, turned on the heel of his hand-made shoes. “And I can still see your Wonder Woman panties.” With that he walked away, leaving me with embarrassment and annoyance swarming in my veins. I yanked the back of my dress, still tucked into my embarrassing boy short underwear. They were hardly appropriate for the occasion, but sometimes you just need to feel like a superhero, under your clothes. Today was that day, and Wonder Woman had just met her new nemesis.

* * *

The church was freezing, the bride was lovely, the best man loathsome, so basically business as usual. Habit had me genuflecting before I could question it. Sure, growing up Italian American in a city like New York, I was hardly reading the bible every night, but there were unspoken rules of being my father’scarina. Sweet one… In order to receive this exalted title, the commandments must be followed.

Sunday lunch was after church, which must be attended at all costs. Bensonhurst, Brooklyn was my family’s neighbourhood, and there was where my weekly pilgrimage must be made. Going to church at another, closer location didn’t count. The point in church wasn’t worshipping the big man after all, not to my family. It was making sure the rest of the neighbourhood knew that Vittorio Rossi’s single daughter hadn’t fallen to sin and debauchery in her Navy Hills studio apartment. What exactly my father imagined I was doing in my hipster commune, as he once described my new neighbourhood, I don’t exactly know and would like to never find out. He never seemed to care that my brother, Marco, lived in the West village and never came to Sunday lunch. But, he was a man, so it made sense, by my father’s logic. Of course, given that my brother was gay, and hugely in the closet, I attended the weekly summons for both of us. My brother was nervous enough around Vittorio. If our mother had still been alive, it would have been different. She’d always been the voice of reason and moderation. Without her gentle, calming hand, Vittorio’s power knew no bounds.

A small organ started in the corner, and I started down the aisle. The hand-tied bouquet felt heavy in my hands. Elliot Winter’s eyes stared into me, and I steeled myself to meet them. I was the good girl, we were inmyhouse. I wasn’t going to drop his eyes.

Elliot Winter had the look about him of someone who would struggle to cross the threshold of a hallowed place. Sinfully handsome, arrogant and capable of the most wicked smile, my cheeks reddened annoyingly as I met his dark gaze. Yup, there it was. Temptation made flesh. He was everything my father worried about. Men like Elliot Winter were the reason my father’s commandments were repeated every Sunday. Come home for church, lunch and indoctrination. Work hard and go to bed early. Don’t drink unless you’re eating, and the cardinal rule – don’t even have coffee with a man you can’t see yourself bringing home to meet Vittorio himself. If lust overruled my common sense, my father was ready to be the smacking hand of reason.

As I approached the altar, the priest and the groom, West St. Vincent, fell away. I fancied I was walking toward Elliot Winter as a bride. He certainly looked like a groom, but looking spectacular was probably just his default mode. I felt a real smile blossom on my lips, just as Elliot dropped my gaze, and lowered his eyes to my hips. He raised an eyebrow, and I just knew he was reminding me that he’d seen my inappropriate Wonder Woman panties, smiling at my expense. My smile ground into a grimace, but I held my head high. Elliot Winter could go straight to hell, where he was no doubt already headed. I was a damn superhero.

* * *

Elliot

It’s hard to concentrate on a wedding, when all you can think about is bending the bridesmaid over a pew, shoving her dress out the way, and sinking home.

Her name was Mia Rossi and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She was wearing a pale pink dress, like a fucking fairy tale princess. Her white-blonde hair was caught up loosely, and tendrils curled around her cheeks. She was a pretty little picture, and I wanted to wreck her.

She was too young and innocent-looking for all the things I would do to her, rushing into the church in a cloud of pink chiffon. I used my well-honed discipline to keep my eyes from her, at least when she was watching, with an exception of when she walked down the aisle toward me. She had been radiant in a way that I hadn’t seen in a long time, maybe ever.

The wedding of West St. Vincent, billionaire banker and media darling, to the unknown, penniless but admittedly lovely Angel De Marco, was an event that should have dominated every tabloid and broadsheet in the city. Instead of the pomp and ceremony, such a union should receive, West insisted on marrying Angel in a tiny chapel in her childhood neighbourhood, as she wished, and they only invited two people to be their witnesses.

Me, and the girl I was fantasising about splitting in half over the pew.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that glimpse of upper thigh, the curve of her round little ass, as she’d pulled her skirts down indignantly and glared at me. Now, standing across from her, while the happy couple recited their vows. I couldn’t stop thinking about peeling that dress off her and seeing what was beneath. I shifted uncomfortably, irritated at the humiliation of standing before a priest with a hard-on that could cut glass.

Damn those Wonder Woman panties.

Chapter 2

Mia

The only course of action to enjoy the wedding, and support the bride Angel, my best friend and soon to be former roommate, was to ignore Elliot Winter with the force of a thousand suns. He seemed to take my intense ignoring well, in that, he didn’t seem to notice.

Determined to have fun, and not think about the pitiful state of my own love life, I had to admit, several hours, and too many champagne toasts later, that I might be drunk.

Was it considered bad form to get legless at your best friend’s wedding if you were the only guest?

I had a creeping feeling it was.

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