Page 60 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

MY WIFE

A lessandro

Tonight, I can finally fuck my wife.

It’s a terrible, selfish thought, I know, but it’s been six weeks since we said our vows in that dingy hospital room in Belfast, and I can’t wait another minute. It’s not just the physical part, but also the meaning behind it.

We haven’t consummated the marriage.

I might be a traditionalist when it comes to this—I blame my strict Italian and Chinese heritage—but cazzo , I want her to be my wife, mine, in every sense of the word. I’m fully aware I sound slightly insane since we’ve had sex countless times before but never as husband and wife.

“Are you ready?” Rory’s voice seeps through the bathroom door.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, pissed off today not because of my scarred reflection but rather because instead of taking my wife to bed, we’re hosting a party for my entire family.

To tell them we got married behind their backs over a month ago. It’s going to go over like a fucking lead balloon. I only hope the promise of a big post-wedding celebration will help soften the blow.

The bathroom door creaks open a few inches, and Rory leans in, her gaze sweeping over me with quiet intensity.

Those brilliant emerald eyes trace every line and contour of my bare chest, lingering, unflinching, on the ravaged left side of my body.

Months ago, that kind of scrutiny would’ve made me shrink, turn away, wrap myself in whatever armor I could find. But now? I let her look.

Because that map of scars brought her to me.

“Are you going to just stand there gawking at yourself all night or are you getting ready?” A hint of mischief brightens her eyes.

A smirk pulls at my lips as I tug her into the bathroom and press her flush against me. My cock immediately hardens at the familiar feel of her. “We should both be taking off our clothes, not putting more on.”

Her chin lifts, eyes meeting mine. “You know how important this night will be to your family. It’s been six weeks, what’s a couple more hours?”

I groan. “I can barely hold out for a few more seconds.” My hands run up and down her bare arms, gaze settling on the strapless ivy dress that brings out her eyes. If being gentle wasn’t an issue, I would have bent her over the sink and been balls deep inside her already.

Her hand comes between us, stroking my erection over my pants, and I suck in a breath. “ Merda ,” I hiss, “I can’t wait to be inside you again, Red.”

She lifts to her tiptoes and brushes her lips over mine, that hand still tantalizing, still teasing. “Same here, amore .” Then she releases my dick, reaches around and slaps me on the ass. “Now get moving. Your parents are going to be here any minute now.”

With another frustrated groan, I reach for the crisp black shirt and slacks hanging on the towel rack. “Fine,” I grumble. “But if everyone’s not gone by nine, I’m kicking them all out.”

“Whatever you say, Ale.” With a chuckle, she saunters back into our bedroom, leaving me in the bathroom with an obnoxious hard on.

Funny… this is exactly how we started.

Rory’s sitting beside me on the couch after dinner, her fingers tucked discreetly into mine, her smile barely restrained.

Isabella and Raf sit across from us, debating the merits of installing a new security system for their place.

Uncle Luca and his wife, Stella are fully on board.

Of course. Never enough security for their little princess.

No wonder she ended up with her bodyguard.

Rory smiles and nods, engaging all the family while keeping her cool. She’s good at pretending she’s just along for the ride, but I can feel the thrum of nerves under her skin like a second heartbeat. She’s braver than any of them know.

And tonight, they’re going to know everything.

I clear my throat. Loud enough to cut through the noise. Heads turn. Papà and Mā . Alessia and Matty. Conversations die. All eyes suddenly fall on us.

Which is saying something, considering Serena and Antonio are both glowing and going on and on about their upcoming wedding. The grand celebration uniting the Valentinos and Ferraras is in a few months, and it’s all the family can talk about.

“We have something to share,” I announce.

Serena raises one perfectly arched brow. “If it’s a gender reveal, I swear to God, Ale?—”

Rory snorts beside me, and I feel her relax just a little.

“No babies,” I say, shooting a look at my cousin. “Not yet anyway. But... we did get married.”

A beat of silence. Then chaos explodes across the Rossis and Valentinos. From Papà to Mā , to each of my uncles, aunts and cousins.

“What?”

“You what?”

“In the hospital?!”

“No fucking way?—”

“Wait, like actually married?—?”

Rory’s laughing now, her cheeks flushed as I pull her a little closer as we both stand. “Six weeks ago. In Belfast,” she confirms. “It was just us and a priest. I was still half dead, so it was... quiet.”

“But official,” I add.

Uncle Dante makes the sign of the cross like we just told them we’re moving to Antarctica. “ Madonna mia . You could’ve told your parents at least. Marco would’ve blessed you with some oil or some other sacred merda .”

Papà shoots him the finger across the room.

Serena groans. “Of course you did it first. You couldn’t let us have one moment?”

“We’re still engaged,” Antonio whispers, squeezing his fiancée’s hand, “and getting married soon. Relax, amore .”

“They just stole my thunder like absolute heathens.” She tosses me a wicked grin.

“Oh, come on, Sere,” Matteo calls out from across the room. “You’ll still get your six bridal showers and the traditional three-day wedding feast.”

“And you’ll still demand a plus-one or three for every single event,” Serena fires back, eyes twinkling.

Matteo winks across the room at me and raises his glass.

“Now it’s just me and the espresso machine, baby.

” But his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

He and Alessia are the only single ones left from the core cousin crew.

Until a second ago, I was certain the life of a bachelor was all Matty wanted, but maybe we’re all finally growing up.

I glance at Rory. She’s glowing. Not with makeup or the diamonds on her finger, but with something quieter. Something that comes from being accepted and part of a real family. Messy, chaotic but real.

“We’re planning a party,” I announce. “Big. Loud. Champagne everywhere. So you can all celebrate it the right way.”

Matteo pumps a fist. “Do I get to DJ?”

“No,” a chorus of voices answer at once.

Laughter erupts again. Glasses are raised. Uncle Nico disappears into the kitchen muttering about popping a bottle of something expensive.

And through it all, Rory’s hand never leaves mine.

Mā pushes her way through the crowd and stops in front of Rory, eyes sharp and shining.

She eyes me with a warning glint. “You get one surprise wedding, Alessandro. Just one.” Then she turns to Rory, and I hold my breath.

“You saved my son,” she murmurs, voice thick.

“You gave him something none of us could. His heart. His future. His peace.”

Rory’s breath catches. “I just... I couldn’t let him go down without a fight.”

Mā cups her face, nodding solemnly. “Then you are ours, bǎo bèi. Forever.”

My jaw nearly unhinges at my mom’s words. Treasure . It was what her grandfather used to call her. A term of endearment I’ve only ever heard her use for Alessia or me.

Rory’s eyes go glassy. She nods, wordless, and I wrap an arm around her, tucking her into my side. Where she’ll stay forever.

The family explodes into a dozen more conversations, but none of them matter.

Rory is mine. And finally, she’s theirs, too.

Six weeks since that hospital room. Since her blood soaked my hands. Since the moment I nearly lost her and vowed I never would again.

Six weeks since I put that emerald ring on her finger and heard the only word that’s ever mattered spill from her lips: yes .

And tonight, she’s mine in every way.

The echo of laughter fades down the hallway as the front door finally slams shut.

Matteo’s voice calls out something crude, probably about us christening our bedroom as newlyweds.

I don’t care. I don’t even respond. I turn the deadbolt, twist the lock, and press my forehead to the door, exhaling slowly.

We’re alone. At last.

I turn, and there she is.

Barefoot. Hair wild from dancing. Still in her dress, simple, elegant, the kind of green that sets her eyes aglow. The bodice clings to her curves, and her cheeks are pink from champagne and laughter.

But it’s her eyes that kill me. Soft. Liquid. Full of want and love and the kind of trust I never believed I’d deserve.

“Hiya,” she says, voice quiet.

My throat works. “Hi.”

A slow smile curves her lips. “You gonna keep staring at me like that, husband?”

Dio , I’ll never get tired of that word.

“In my defense,” I whisper, walking toward her, “you’re fucking beautiful. And I’ve been imagining this moment for weeks.” I stop in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “No interruptions. No Quinlans. No ER trips. Just you and me.”

Rory’s smile softens. She lifts her hand and cups my cheek, thumb brushing the scar near my jaw. Her wedding band glints in the low light. “You saved me, Ale.”

I press my forehead to hers. “And you gave me my life back.”

We stay like that, breathing each other in, letting the gravity of this night settle between us.

Then she steps back and slowly reaches for the zipper at her side.

My breath catches.

She doesn’t break eye contact as the fabric slips down her perfect form, pooling silently at her feet. Beneath, she wears nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties. Simple. Elegant. Lethal.

Every thought evaporates. My body locks, my hands fisting at my sides to keep from grabbing her too fast. She’s still recovering… I need the reminder.

“ Cazzo , Red,” I whisper hoarsely.

She walks to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, chest pressing against mine. “You said you’ve been imagining this moment…” She brushes her lips over mine. “So have I. Every night.”

That’s all it takes.

I scoop her up into my arms, kissing her slow and deep, pouring everything I’ve felt into the slide of my mouth against hers.

Grief. Hope. Longing. Love. I lay her gently on the bed, pausing to look down at her, at the small bandage that still remains.

I memorize every detail. “Are you sure I won’t hurt you?

” I whisper, even now, because I’ll never take a single part of her for granted.

Rory’s eyes are molten. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

I shrug out of my clothes with shaking hands, watching the hunger spark in her eyes as I bare myself to her, all my scars, everything I am. Her gaze remains fixed to mine, never deviating.

Then I carefully crawl over her, fitting myself against her like we were carved to match.

“Is this okay?” I whisper.

“More than okay…”

Her skin is silk under my hands, her mouth fever-hot and demanding.

“I love you,” I murmur into the hollow of her throat.

“I love you,” she breathes, arching into me.

Fear pummels into me as my cock nudges at her entrance. I’m so desperate to be inside her sweetness I’m scared I’ll hurt her.

Her hand finds my cheek, forcing my wild eyes to meet her steady ones. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“If I do, you’ll stop me, right?”

She nods. “I promise.”

Molten desire races through my veins, and it takes all my restraint to gently slide into her.

The moment I’m fully sheathed inside, the world stills.

Her gasp is soft, reverent, her nails digging into my back.

I move slowly at first, terrified, then when I feel her relax, I begin to enjoy every moment.

To savor the way her body clings to mine, how perfectly we fit.

Her eyes never leave mine. We move together like we were made for this, for each other. No rush. No noise. Just the soft slide of skin on skin, the rhythmic rise of pleasure, the growing desperation in our breaths.

“ Dio , I missed this.” I kiss away the tear that slips down her cheek. “I’ve got you, Mrs. Rossi,” I promise. “Always.”

Her hips lift to meet mine. “Don’t you dare stop.”

I don’t.

Minutes, or maybe hours later, we fall together like we’re breaking and rebuilding in the same breath, like every piece of us is finally locking into place. When she cries out my name, I swear my heart shatters and remakes itself in the shape of her.

I can’t breathe and yet I’ve never felt more complete.

Once our ragged pants have subsided, I roll her on top of me, our legs tangled in the sheets. My cock is still happily buried between her thighs, ready to go again and again. But I don’t dare push. Her head is on my chest, my hand stroking lazy circles along her spine.

“I think we just ruined the sheets,” she murmurs.

I laugh, breathless and stupid in love. “We’ll get new ones. Hell, I’ll buy a whole linen company if you want.”

She lifts her head, grinning sleepily.

“You’re okay? Your stitches didn’t?—”

“I’m fine, Ale. Perfect, actually.” She presses a kiss to my lips. “And I’m going to guess you enjoyed it too since it feels like you’re ready to go again.”

“You know I’m always ready for you, Red.”

Her smile is truly radiant. “You really meant it, huh?”

“What?”

“The vows. The promises. The forever.”

I tip her chin up and kiss her again, slow and deep.

“Every single word.”