Page 24 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)

ANTONELLA

THE ANTICIPATION

Valor cut my dress off.

Cut, with a knife.

And I feel... different about it. Especially since I know the tip of his knife running along my skin wasn’t an accident. It could be seen as a threat, but it didn’t feel like one.

My heart keeps banging against my ribs, and I’m a little lightheaded.

He knelt before me. Actually knelt before me on his knees to remove my dress. And Valor looking up at me with those deep, soulful hazelly-green eyes? Kill me now because surely, I won’t survive a lifetime of him looking at me with that kind of heat.

I could have caught on fire from how hot it was to be the object of his desire. The attention warmed my body all over, and I’ve turned the shower cooler than I normally would to try to subdue the flames.

Physical attraction aside, we were sworn enemies before today.

An arranged marriage and desire don’t mean he trusts me.

I can’t let him disarm me. There’s still a chance I die before we consummate the marriage.

Maybe I shouldn’t shower first. When we consummate, the truce is fulfilled.

Until then, killing me and calling it off is still an option.

It’s a thought I struggled to avoid all day.

But why would the Cavanaghs have paired me with Valor if they wanted me dead? Why the fuck did they offer out the next leader of the Irish Mafia at all? Because he’s the best for killing me?

I fully expected what I told Leticia to happen. Married off to some underling who wouldn’t have a care in the world for me. I could be a wife, teach school, and exist. This is not what I bargained for. Not at all.

The bathroom door opens, and I look for a weapon but know there isn’t one to wield.

A hotel shower isn’t the most common place to find a weapon stash.

But it’s just Valor. As he leans against the counter, his demeanor is more approachable, with his red-brown hair mussed like he’s clearly been running his fingers through it and an unbuttoned dress shirt.

“You can join if you want,” I offer. The hotel shower is large enough for two.

Besides, if everything goes ‘well,’ he’ll be inside me soon. Fuck. It feels so new. Not feels. Is. It is so new.

I thought I saw a bulge in his pants, but black slacks aren’t ideal for dick ogling.

The longer he doesn’t say anything, the more tense my body becomes.

I’m not a virgin, but none of my past relationships prepared me for Valor.

He’s intense and intimidating. There’s a significant difference that makes me feel out of my depth.

I finish rinsing the suds from my body and the conditioner from my long locks.

When I step out, Valor is holding a towel toward me like a wall between us. Unexpected.

I take the offering and wrap it around myself, and then he offers me another one for my hair, taking me by surprise at first, and then the reasoning clicks into place. Kerrianne.

Valor is an enigma. He cut my dress off and looks at me like I’m a sexual object in one minute, and in the next, he’s offering out towels. A gentleman. If only he’d talk to me.

“I’m guessing I’ll need to cut you for the tradition. I can’t expect you to be a virgin.” Valor’s voice ...

I spoke too soon. Maybe I don’t need him to talk to me. But, sweet baby Jesus, his voice when it’s gravelly like this. I guess if he wants to talk and say semi-crude things, then it’s mostly acceptable if the words sound fucking hot.

But the response he’s looking for isn’t one I know how to give him. My sexual history isn’t long, but for people with our upbringing, staunch within the Catholic church, I’ve done a lot of things that are off putting.

Years of aunts’ talks in the kitchen come flooding back.

Be desirable. Downplay it. Men like conquests and being first .

The words from my first partner that convinced me to take the plunge hit next.

Some of them don’t even think being with another woman counts.

Justifications and instructions swirl in my brain, and I try to get it together enough to form a coherent sentence.

I choose an educated and science-based response. “A stretched or broken hymen isn’t something that can det?—”

Valor shakes his head. “I’m not judging you, Antonella.” His voice and tone say otherwise, but he draws a breath and lets it out slowly, speaking again with a more level tone. “I won’t judge you.”

“Are you serious? I can’t expect you to be a virgin is an incredibly judgmental statement.” I fight to not roll my eyes.

“You’re radiant.” Valor sweeps his gaze over my towel-clad body. Arguably, I look like a drowned rat with my hair stick-straight after a shower. “I can’t be the only person who has seen you naked. It’s not possible for you to be this beautiful and untouched.”

I’m not sure if he’s trying to make it better or worse. Valor is great at saying the wrong thing .

He scrubs his hand down his face, and I keep my mouth closed.

Be a good wife. Don’t give him a reason to want to be rid of you.

Consummate the fucking marriage and solidify the truce.

Stay alive. Just. Fucking. Lie. Apparently, I have no desire to do any of those things.

I open my mouth to say more, but words don’t come out because Valor’s hand wraps around behind my neck.

In the span of a heartbeat, his lips press against mine.

I didn’t have any expectations of what kissing him would be like. He didn’t kiss me at the wedding ceremony. This makes up for it. His lips against mine are soft, but the kiss is firm. When his tongue prods my lips, I open and let him take my mouth.

I’ve been kissed but not like this. Valor isn’t demanding, but he’s not complacent as he explores the depth of the kiss.

Heat builds between us, and he nips my bottom lip.

His fingers clench into my wet hair, but it’s not to control me further.

Neither hurried nor slow, this kiss reignites the warmth I subdued with my shower.

The cold tile beneath my feet doesn’t stop the desire radiating through my body. And when I don’t think I can take it anymore, Valor groans against my mouth. “Fuck, darling. Making this easy for me, aren’t you?”

“Making what easy?” I whisper against his lips, panting.

I don’t remember the last minute, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t breathing.

He laughs and releases my hair but doesn’t let me go. “Falling in lust with you.”

Valor tugs at the towel I’d wrapped around myself, and I don’t resist because what’s the difference anyway?

But he doesn’t rip it off me and haul me to the bedroom. Instead, he runs the soft cloth over my skin, drying me off. On his way down my stomach, he trails his tongue along the same path his knife took, the space where I’d noticed a tiny red line when washing .

And when he’s done, he pulls at the towel I’d wrapped my hair in. “Do you need to do something with this?”

I shake it out and gather it, twisting the strands around each other and in opposite directions until it’s in a wrapped rope.

I twist it up to the nape of my neck and secure it with a binder I’d pulled out of my hair from the updo.

The joys of straight hair and heatless curls.

.. Product would have been nice, but one day of mistreating my hair isn’t the end of the world.

“Come to bed, darling.” Leading me by the hand, he walks backward out of the bathroom.