Page 153 of Brutal Heir

And I don’t regret a single thing about that day.

Alessandro is dreading telling his family, not because he’s worried they won’t accept me, but because of how angry they’ll be that they didn’t get to attend. So as soon as I’m well enough, we’ll host an extravagant wedding reception with all the bells and whistles.

For them.

The simple exchange of vows in that hospital room was for us.

As the days dragged on in that cramped little room, all I had was time to think. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I certainly wasn’t Brigid O’Shea… but I wasn’t really Rory Delaney either. She’d been built on lies.

I twist the emerald ring around my finger, letting its cool weight remind me that Rory Brigid Rossi could be anyone she wants to be.

“Breakfast?” Alessandro’s voice draws me from my inner musings.

“Are you cooking?” I shoot him a smirk.

“Well, someone has to pick up the slack around here since you’ve been incapacitated.”

A laugh tumbles out before I can stop it, and I immediately regret it. Despite my best effort at holding back the wince, he sees it.

That darkness carves into his jaw again, but before it can settle, I reach for his face and run my thumb across the stubble.“I’m fine, Ale. I’m more than fine—I’m happy. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

He slowly shakes his head, heaving in a breath. “We’ve got to work on your happiness bar, Red. It’s set much too low.”

“That’s what I have you for, McFecker.”

A smile, a real one, flashes across his face.

He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles, then works his way to the tip of my ring finger. “I love you so much, Mrs. Rossi.”

A whisper of heat unfurls between my legs. The first I’ve felt in weeks. Alessandro has been so careful, so gentle… and all that built up desire suddenly floods my senses.

As if he feels it, his eyes darken, and a feral smile curls his lips. “And I cannot wait to make love to my wife.” He leans in and slants his mouth to mine. The kiss is soft, tender, but a hint of fire lingers beneath the chaste act. “You have no idea what torture the waiting is,” he breathes against my lips.

“Oh, I think I have some idea.” I grin.

Loosing a breath of frustration, he sits back. “Come on, let me feed you before I lose all restraint and feast on you instead.” He curls one arm around my back and the other under my legs and gently lifts me off the mattress.

I’m more than capable of walking, but I know he enjoys the role reversal as much as I do. So, I lean into his chest and bury my nose in his familiar scent.

Because I’m finally home.

CHAPTER 58

MY WIFE

Alessandro

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—butcazzo, 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.