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It feels worth it, because I see Salvatore flinch, ever so slightly, as my naked body is entirely revealed to him once again—this time in the bright morning light. “Because if you can’t manage it now, I’m not sure I believe you ever will. I’m going to be a virgin forever, aren’t I?”
“Stop, Gia.” Salvatore stands up, his face impassive, but I see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “You’re acting like a child.”
“Am I?” I lean back against the pillows, slowly spreading my legs an inch apart, and then another. “Or am I acting like a woman whose husband showed her how pleasurable marriage can be, and then left her cold?” I let my hand slide down the flat of my stomach, down to the soft curls between my thighs. “It sounds like you’re going to leave me like that more often than not, now. I’m just going to have to take care of it myself, I guess.”
I reach down, my fingers slipping between my folds, spreading them enough that if Salvatore looked, he could see all of the soft pink flesh between my legs. “Are you scared of your virgin bride?” I taunt, rubbing my fingers on either side of my clit. A rush of warmth passes over my skin, a tingle of adrenaline following it, and I realize I’m enjoying this. Really enjoying it. I feel wetness against my fingertips, my clit throbbing, and an ache begins to build. I could get off like this, I realize, and I rub my fingers against the sides of my clit again, letting out a small, mewling whimper. “That’s okay,” I tell him, enjoying the look on his face. He looks like a man tormented again, like he did last night. Good. If I’m going to endure this, so will he. “My fingers feel better than yours did, anyway.”
I lock eyes with him, moving my finger so that it’s rubbing against my clit, and toss my head back as I reach down and start to slide two fingers into myself, ready to give myself up to the pleasure?—
—and feel Salvatore’s hard grip around my wrists as he snatches my hands away from my body, pinning them over my head.
I let out a frustrated moan before I can stop myself, my teeth gritting at being denied. Salvatore is leaning over me, his jaw tight, and when I look down, I can see that he’s hard. “So you’re just a coward,” I taunt. “You do want me. You’re just so guilty that you won’t do anything about it.”
Salvatore lets out a frustrated growl, deep in his throat, and despite myself, I feel a shiver go down my spine. His hands slide down my arms, still pinning them in place, and for a split second, I think he’s going to join me on the bed. That this is the moment he’s going to give in, and take what he stole yesterday.
My heartbeat quickens. For a brief moment, I’m not entirely sure if it’s out of fear or anticipation.
And then Salvatore grips my arms, more roughly than he has before, jerking me up out of bed and onto my feet. He shakes me once, his gaze dark and angry, and I flinch with surprise. He’s never been this rough with me before, and this time, the quick skip of my pulse in my throat is fear. I wonder, briefly, if I’ve pushed him too far.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Gia?” Salvatore growls, and I tilt my chin up, refusing to let him break me. To let him frighten me.
“You broke my father’s trust,” I hiss. “He never intended for me to marry you. For me to be naked in your house, for you to—” I break off, because Salvatore’s grip on me tightens, his face taut as he glares down at me.
“Don’t you dare.” His mouth presses into a thin line, and I feel the edge of the bed press into my thighs, his body close enough to mine that I can nearly feel the texture of his clothing against my bare skin. “Everything I have done is to protect you, Gia! You can continue to protest, to call me a liar, to be ungrateful—but I know the truth. I know why you’re here, and it has nothing to do with these…these perverted fantasies?—”
“My perverted fantasies?” I try to wrench out of his arms, but his grip is too tight. “You’re the one who had your fingers in me last night, you?—”
“To keep from hurting you!” he roars, his voice filling the space between us until I can’t help but shrink back. “You’re nothing but a foolish girl who is naive enough to think your precious Bratva prince would have taken even a moment to consider your own body’s limits before fucking you exactly as he pleased.”
“Don’t talk about Pyotr that way!” I scream back in his face, still struggling in Salvatore’s grip, and he lets out a disgusted snort before letting go of me, taking a step back.
“You’re deluded.” He shakes his head. “Your father indulged you too much, but now I’m your husband, and I’m not going to do the same. Last night was about duty. The pleasure I gave you was to prepare you, so that I wouldn’t hurt you when I took your virginity. It wasn’t about my own desire.”
A muscle leaps in the side of his jaw, and I still don’t believe him. “Your cock is hard,” I hiss. “You’re a fucking liar.”
He looks at me with something, that, for a brief second, almost looks like a flicker of contempt. For me, or for himself. “Your ignorance clearly extends to how a man’s body works, Gia, despite your filthy mouth and overactive imagination.” He takes another step back. “I’ve had enough of this. There’s no argument to be had here, and I won’t waste my time bickering. You don’t understand, clearly, but you don’t need to. You are my wife now, and I will handle things.”
Rage boils up in me again, spilling over. “I won’t be—handled like this! You can’t just tell me what to do, make these decisions?—”
Salvatore chuckles, but there’s no mirth in it, as if he’s not enjoying this any more than I am. “I can, and I will, Gia. Now get dressed. I’ll give you a tour of your new home. Our home,” he adds.
And then he turns, walking away from me and striding out of the room. I hear the lock click, and I let out a frustrated scream from between my teeth as I grope for the nearest thing on the nightstand—an alarm clock.
I throw it against the wall, and watch it shatter.
Gia
An hour later, I’ve managed to at least make myself look as if I’ve calmed down. But I’m still angry, my frustration simmering just below the surface. But I shower and dress and put my hair up. When Salvatore knocks on the door, unlocking it and stepping inside a moment later, I wait for him to say something about my choice of clothing.
“I didn’t know if you expected formal dress every hour of the day in your own home,” I snipe. “But at my home, I’m used to dressing mostly how I please.”
Salvatore ignores me. He already knows that his insistence on dressing nicely for meals irritated me. I watch his gaze sweep over me, taking in my dark skinny jeans and soft teal-colored t-shirt, my makeup-less face, and the messy bun atop my head. “You can dress however you want,” he says coolly. “I’m not going to give you a list of rules, Gia.”
“Of course. You’ll just make them up in your head and then reprimand me when I fail.” I smile sweetly at him, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Are you going to spank me when I’m bad?”
There’s that twitch in his jaw again. A tell, but I haven’t yet figured out if it means he’s aroused or angry. Or both. “I don’t have goalposts for you, Gia,” he says tersely. “But I do expect a proper mafia wife. So I’m going to show you your home, and then you’ll meet with the staff. All the things I said you needed to learn before your marriage will apply here. I expect you to oversee my household, arrange and plan the dinners and parties that will be expected, and make friends with the wives of my associates. And I expect you to do it pleasantly, and without constantly reminding me how displeased you are to be here.”
“I can’t promise anything.” That sweet smile is still on my lips, but my tone is venomous. “Although I suppose you could find some way to force it. You’re good at forcing promises out of women, apparently. Just yesterday, you managed to make me say vows I didn’t mean.”
