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The way her body twists away from me irritates me eventhough I shouldn’t let it, and I try my best not to look at her in case she catches my reflection in the window. The tension in our forty-minute journey makes it feel like a lifetime, and when we finally pull through the gates to my home, getting out of the car and away from the atmosphere that's built up inside it, feels like a relief.
I shake my head at my driver once I’m out, then stand to hold the door open for her myself. She, of course, refuses the hand I offer, insisting on struggling out of the car by herself. So I let her, standing by and watching in amusement as she struggles with her dress and flops around like a salmon out of water.
I wait for her to be on her feet before I shake my head and step up to the front door, holding it open for her, like a true gentleman. She shows me no gratitude, just storms past me into the reception where she immediately stills. Her head lifts to examine the tall, decorative ceilings, and although she tries not to show that she’s impressed, she fails miserably.
I debate on how this should be handled. The girl has shown enough signs that she’s scared. It’s clear now, that her bratty, little attitude is only a mask to hide that from me. But that doesn’t mean it can be tolerated, and unfortunately for her, it goes against my nature to show kindness.
“Come.” I gesture my head toward the double doors that lead into the living room then, stepping through them, I make my way straight to the bar. Madalina follows, looking as pretty as she does vulnerable when she stands in the center of the room, wearing the skin-tight lace gown that I have every intention of ruining before the night is over. Her eyes warily survey the space around her and I can practically hear her heart beating from her chest.
I take two glasses and pour us something strong, and when I move to stand in front of her and offer her one, she stares at the glassin my hand before she brings those pretty, blue eyes up to meet with mine.
“I’m too young to drink,” she tells me, the flush on her cheeks confirming that her confidence has completely up and left her.
“Madalina, in case you have not noticed, I am not one to adhere to the law. Take the drink, you will need it.” I look down at the glass and watch her hand take it, causing the ice inside it to clink from the way she trembles. I gesture my hand toward the couch to offer her a seat and when she takes it, I stand tall in front of her and raise my glass before watching her take her first sip. I find it a little cute how she screws up her nose and almost chokes on the very expensive single malt her father gifted me after the arrangement we made became official but not cute enough to go easy on her.
“Tell me, Madalina, are you a virgin?” Up until now, I’ve assumed that she has been raised correctly, saving herself for a husband. I hope to be correct because I want so much for it to be me who takes this girl's innocence and makes her weep pretty, painful tears in the process.
She looks up at me as she reaches her arm around my leg and places her glass on the coffee table.
“What sort of question is that?” Her eyes narrow as if I’ve overstepped.
“The kind that a husband has the right to know. Are you a virgin?” I repeat.
“Yes!” Her answer comes out sharp and crude, and the way she refuses to make eye contact with me, makes me want to grab her face and force her eyes onto mine, but it doesn’t take away the fact that her answer pleases me.
Since there is no point wasting any more time, I finish what’s in my glass and place it on the table beside hers so I can offer her myhand.
“Stand up,” I demand, looking down at my virgin wife and considering all the positions I could break her in. I’m a little shocked when she does as I request so quickly, and that her hand takes mine as she slowly rises to her feet. I wrap my other hand around her waist, drawing her closer, and smile at the way she gasps when I spin her around so my chest presses against her back.
“Are you scared?” I whisper, taking her jaw in my hand and tilting her head so my mouth has access to the skin on her neck. I’m even more surprised when she offers me some honesty and nods against my grip. I reward that honesty with a trail of gentle kisses that lead all the way up to her ear.
“You should be.” I clamp my teeth down around her earlobe and the very expensive diamond earring she’s wearing. The fingers I have clasped around her jaw tense when I feel a shudder travel through her body.
“I am going to stretch your tight, little pussy so it fits me perfectly, and then I’m going to fill it to the brim with my cum until your womb holds the next DeMarco heir,” I whisper.
“No!” The word comes out fast. So fast that she forgets to hide the panic from her voice.
“No?” I repeat her simple little word back to her as my free hand slowly moves around her body and presses against her flat stomach.
“You don’t like the thought of carrying my child?” I can hear the amusement in my tone and can only imagine the irritation that carrying a permanent reminder that she is owned by me would cause her. The thought makes my cock press into the dip of her spine.
“I don’t know you…This is all too fast,” she tells me under her breath.
“You are my wife now, Madalina. Youwillobey me. You will take my cum inside you, and be fucking grateful for it.You’re not a spoiled, little girl anymore, you are a woman now.” I step away from her and pick up her glass from the table, handing it to her so she can finish. And she shows me that woman when her eyes pierce me with hate, as she knocks it back.
MADALINA
Ilie in bed feeling far too exposed in the white lace underwear that was presented to me along with my dress this morning. My eyes remain focused on the ensuite door, waiting for it to open as the nerves in my stomach become more and more unbearable. It’s becoming increasingly harder to pretend that I'm not afraid. After I finished my drink downstairs, Dario led me straight up here to this lavish bedroom where, I assume, he will do exactly what he threatened to. The fact he’s left me here with all this time to think about it while he takes a shower only confirms that this man likes to make people suffer.
He’s being strategic, he wants me to be alone with my thoughts so they can strangle me.
I don’t know why what he said about wanting an heir came as such a shock. Of course, he will want one, Serena told me that this morning. It’s what this whole stupid marriage arrangement is about.
But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for it. I can barely imagine myself being someone's wife, let alone being a mother.
Eventually, Dario steps out of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his hips and a body that's really hard not tostare at as he makes his way towards the bed. It’s obvious the man spends a lot of time working out, and the scars I see scattered all over him as he gets a little closer intrigue me too.
He rough-dries his hair with the smaller towel in his hand before tossing it on the bed, and then without any warning he rips away the sheet I have covering my body and makes a scared gasp spill from my throat.
