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It seemed he was happy to see the back of me for a while. It was laughable how much I’d fucked with his life, to the point he was desperate it appeared to fuck around with mine.
I had no concerns about being away. I’d already had the boat checked over by my own security and changed the staff onboard to those who were loyal to me only, and two of my best men would be travelling with us. Plus, it would take Serafina away from her family and I knew that would upset Giordano when he couldn’t check up on her.
Walking up to the heavy, oak door, I looked up to the camera in the left-hand corner of the doorframe and heard the bolts release.
The door swung open and I strode over the threshold, into the air-conditioned building and blew out a loud exhale, before finally allowing myself to look down at my stunningly beautiful wife. I’d deliberately not looked at her since I’d held her to me inside the church and felt the warmth from her supple frame seep through the thin fabric of her wedding dress, and now I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off her. I was like a dying man, desperate for sustenance; and she at sixteen years old was it.
Everybody’s seen her.
That one thought had my nostrils flaring and my blood flying around my body so fast I could hear a kettle drum banging against the inside of my ears. The small knife I’d had made especially for her began to make its presence known, tucked into the back of my belt, as I swept my eyes over the black dress she was wearing. The same dress that barely concealed anything. The same dress that had shown nearly all of my new wife off to vile, depraved pieces of scum like Enzo.
I felt my teeth clamp down as I held in the venom that I wanted to spit out at her. Somehow, I fought the urge that was rising from deep down inside of me to take her somewhere and to violently cut the flimsy material away from her body, before I fucked her for my own pleasure.
But you won’t.
Aware that something was going on, Serafina moved her head ever so slightly and showing her fear, she opened her eyes wider to silently enquire what was happening. Even in the much dimmer light her aqua coloured eyes shone out their brilliance and my head instinctively dipped down to brush my lips against hers to reassure her.
‘You will never dress this way again, Serafina.’ In the small space between our two mouths, I hissed the words out between my closed teeth, before my brain had a chance to filter them.
‘Why do you care?’ she whispered.
I wasn’t used to sharing my feelings, let alone being questioned, especially not by a woman and once again rage burnt at my insides. I swallowed, trying to dampen the fire, as I remembered that none of this was her fault, none of it.
‘I don’t care, but you’re mine, you’ve always been mine… and no one, no fucking one will ever get to see, let alone take what’s mine, ever again.’
‘I’m yours,’ she agreed, as she attempted to nod her head to convince me. The relief I felt at her admission was profound. ‘I know it’s wrong,’ she carried on, ‘but I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.’
Fuck!
Serafina, my wife… to love and honour.
The knowledge of just who I was cradling in my arms and how she made me feel when we were together and alone, made me uncomfortable.
And there I stood, in the silence, fighting my natural instincts and frozen to the spot, like a man who had no fucking clue which way his life was meant to go. For as long as I could remember, I’d been planning revenge and how my future would map out.
The strange way she made me feel wasn’t part of the plan.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Being in her life, but at a distance, had succeeded just as I’d worked out it would. Over the years, I’d been illusive and untouchable, knowing I’d become more and more important in her life. The few hours we’d shared together during the few weeks that only came around once a year, had featured heavily in her life. Apparently, being a middle child in a large family meant she would delight in a connection that was just for her.
I discerned that she’d embrace our unspoken secret and it appeared she had.
Through the pain and joy of adolescence she’d look for me, on our beach, just as I knew she would. Until, even in our silence, I’d become the person she most wanted to spend time with.
Then, after many years of priming her to want to be with me, I knew she’d be ripe for picking. Right under his nose, his beautiful, intelligent daughter would choose me over him.
My mother, for his daughter.
It was written in stone.
But, never in any fucking plan, had I envisaged me wanting to hold her close to me, needing to feel her in my arms, with my body demanding to kiss her, to protect her as my own.
Never.
I forced myself to move on and turned towards the oak staircase and with my movement, my synapses started firing.
Out of respect for my future wife, I hadn’t slept with another woman since our marriage had been arranged, that had to be why. The need to lose myself in her and with her had become all-consuming the longer our marriage celebrations had gone on. So much so, I hadn’t been able to look or touch her since we’d sat down at the table.
