Page 23 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)
VALOR
THE HOTEL
I knew there would be a guard in the hotel suite because we’d gotten here early and were told they’d be doing a security sweep, but when I open the door, he’s just standing in the living space, fucking around on his phone.
My wife, behind me, is tired. She was practically falling asleep in the SUV on the hour-long drive over here, but she kept jolting herself awake. Probably because she doesn’t trust us enough to rest in our presence. Not that I blame her.
The way her people treated her was unacceptable. The frustration I feel on her behalf will exhaust me if I linger on it too much. I will, however, hold it against them and add it to the grievances I intend to make them pay for.
I hold the door open, and Antonella shuffles in behind me.
I’m not sure she notices, but she releases a soft groan that lasts less than a fraction of a second, presumably when she sees the guard and yet another obstacle.
I walk away from the door, clearing a path for him to make his exit, and Antonella follows me closely.
Is it instinct or conditioning that she knows to stand behind me like this ?
The guard stands at attention, and I can’t believe I have to command him.
So I do, the full weight of the alpha command behind my words. “Leave. Us.”
The growl I hold back as I try to remember to be human is practically choking me from the inside out.
He gives my wife a look. A look like he thinks she’s his to even lay eyes on, drinking her in. I move to keep myself between them until he’s finally looking over his shoulder for one last glimpse of her before going out the door.
That fucker is getting his ass kicked later, my wolf grumbles, like it wasn’t already happening.
I wait, watching the door, until it clicks shut and the lock whirs. My fist finally unclenches, and I turn to look at her.
Antonella is completely calm, almost bored by the situation. Either because she knows better than to get involved since she was raised in this life or because she’s not smart enough to know the dangers.
It’s not that she’s not smart. It’s that she doesn’t know wolves exist. It’s that she doesn’t know she married one. I sigh because I’m being too hard on her. It’s that she has always been able to defend herself against the dangers she knew about, and clearly, a single man ogling her is nothing new.
“You’re an interesting woman, Antonella.” I try to open the conversation between us but immediately realize the error of my statement.
“I am?” She cants her head, looking at me as if to see me in a new light.
We’ve been watching each other all day. We’ve played the respectful newlyweds that our families were expecting. She integrated with my family, and I claimed her, keeping her at my side as best I could and making sure her family knew they lost.
Now, though, in this hotel room, I don’t want to be respectful anymore. I want to know who this woman is and if she was given to me simply because she called the truce or if there was more to it.
And in a sick way, I want to take what’s been given to me.
Antonella begins to unpin her hat. She makes it look so easy, removing whatever held it in place and then pulling down the intricate updo. I didn’t expect such long hair. It runs down her back, stopping above where her hips dip one last time before the curve of her ass takes over.
Maybe the truce won’t be so bad after all.
My cock twitches. It’s not like I’ve lived a celibate life since Holly... but there’s something about Antonella. It started with being unable to take my eyes off her, and it hasn’t stopped.
The rich brown locks hold the waves from having been pinned up for so long.
When she shakes it out, it sways around her waist, sexy in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
I’ve always loved long hair on women, and I want to wrap my fingers in hers, first to explore the array of deep browns and second for something much more primal.
In public, I didn’t feel like this. Maybe it was the buffer of an audience or expectations to be civil and in control. But that reservation is gone.
I get to look, to touch, and to use as much as I want. If she needs an adjustment period before submitting to the demands of being mated to a wolf, then that’s all on her.
She’ll want us. My wolf assures me, but I don’t need his approval. Not for this.
“Like what you see?” She flirts with me while running her fingers through her hair and tousling it from the roots.
I’m no stranger to someone flirting, but the way she does it affects me in a way I’ve only experienced once before. I clear my throat. “Enough.”
She scoffs a laugh and looks around the room. “I know it’s customary to consummate and for you to deliver the evidence, but I was hoping I could wash this day off me first. Do you mind?”
No, I don’t mind. It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s what I should say.
Be a good husband and not the alpha asshole. Instead, I slide off my suit jacket, unbuckle my cuff links, roll up my sleeves, and pull the knife out of my pocket.
Antonella watches me, eyeing the knife, but there isn’t fear in her eyes or in the air. Not like there should be. Then her lips barely twitch, almost like she’s fighting a smile.
So trusting of me, princess. A man you’ve never met, but surely, you’ve heard the stories.
The woman doesn’t even question it when I bring the knife up toward her face. She tilts her head and moves her hair out of the way. The second time she’s bared that graceful neck to me.
My cock is rock hard at the view and the thought of putting my mark right there at the base. Submit to me more, darling. Give it all to me.
Antonella doesn’t flinch when I slide the blade under the high collar of her dress. The knife has no problem cutting through the thick hem and then slicing the lace and backing fabric like butter.
Inch by inch, I slice down the front, between her perfect tits, showing off a black lace bra. As the dress parts, her skin becomes more visible. I stop at her waist and slide the pommel of my knife down her shoulder. The fabric slides away, revealing black ink tattooed into her skin.
The warm, rich scent of her arousal mixes with the bright citrus and lightly sweet floral fragrance I caught earlier. I wet my lips, anticipating what she’ll taste like.
Don’t get attached. I don’t know her yet. We’re married, not mates. I warn myself, trying to think with the head on my shoulders, not my raging hard-on.
Could be? My wolf debates .
I shove him away.
I go back to the front of her dress, and this time, I position the blade tip closer to her body. The razor-sharp edge connects with the smooth skin of her belly, and while I notice a small twitch, a minuscule flinch, and a hitch in her breath, Antonella doesn’t object.
As I unravel the material with my knife, black lace panties are exposed, and I work lower yet, finding a matching garter and stockings.
God damn ... I have to stop myself from palming my dick.
Right before the seam where the fabric furls out around her hips, I stop the knife’s descent. I’ve sunk to my knees, but it doesn’t feel shameful to lower myself before her.
She’s too perfect. She’s too fucking perfect. I can’t let myself fall for her. It’s lust. It’s lust. It’s lust.
Rising back to my full height, I offer my non-knife hand out to her. Antonella takes it and lets me assist her as she steps out over the now ruined not-wedding gown.
“Thank you.” She gives me a soft smile. “I’m sure the zipper would have worked, but your way seems like it was faster.”
The sass. The perfect, flirty little sass. “Did Gregorio D’Medici put up with your attitude?”
Antonella shakes her head and gives a single-shoulder shrug. “I think you know the answer to that question. Perfect nieces don’t get married off to the enemy’s inquisitor.”
“It’s for the best.” I flick the blade of my knife away and tuck it back into my pants pocket. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in bed. Don’t take too long.”
My fingers itch to take her out of her undergarments, but some part of me wants to let her have a reason to like me. Though, I don’t even know why.
She walks away in four-inch heels and a set of lingerie that could have been custom designed for her form.
I squeeze my dick to stop myself from following her.
If I follow her, then I’ll fuck her in the shower and then need to manufacture consummation proof.
Dirty sheets are easier. Showing someone else a video of us fucking is out of the question.
The growing possessiveness over her isn’t healthy.
A chill runs down my spine. I know this feeling, this attachment, and when I lost it before, it almost ruined me. Holly wasn’t my fated mate, but losing someone I was that close to, that I’d let myself bond with... If God takes that from me again, I don’t know that I’ll survive.
Don’t betray me, darling, and I won’t fall in love with you.