Page 29 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)
ANTONELLA
FOUR CHEESEBURGERS
“Hey,” Valor says from the bedroom doorway of our hotel suite.
The disheveled look suits him.
I toss the last pillow up toward the headboard and finish remaking the bed after having grabbed spare sheets from a closet in the suite.
The rigid Valor of this morning has faded to something softer. He’s not without edges but more relaxed. I guess that’s what an orgasm does to most people.
“I was thinking.” He doesn’t approach me. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.
That’s a dangerous thing. I keep my comment to myself and wait patiently. It’s not like I could go anywhere. He’s blocking the only entrance to the room.
“Let’s get out of here. This feels... shameful.” He gestures to the bed, his top lip curling and eyes hard. “We shouldn’t be forced into this. It’s done. It’s over. But I don’t want to stay here, in this space, under the weight of the situation anymore.”
Shameful? Situation? His words are pointed and sharp, and I can’t tell if he’s angry with the circumstances or something else... like me. The sharp juxtaposition of Valor makes my chest throb.
When he left, he was visibly frustrated, but I attributed it to the garish act of having to provide proof. He was tender and kind toward me, like he had been since I got out of the shower. Albeit a little awkward, but he was still tender. There’s nothing I can do but ride it out.
“Sure.” I shrug, trying to be accommodating. But I gesture to the hotel robe I’m wearing. “You wouldn’t happen to have clothes for me?”
Valor nods and disappears into the living area of the suite. He returns a few moments later with a shopping bag from a boutique store and hands it to me. “This should all be close to your size.”
I’m quick to accept the bag and take it to the bathroom to change.
The skirt, blouse, and sweater are my size.
It’s a put-together outfit, and while they’re not things I would normally pick for myself, they are beautiful.
Is this what Valor wants his woman to wear?
I could absolutely work more of this into my wardrobe.
No. Nope. I don’t dress for men. Especially if they want me to.
But I pet the sweater again, and my resolve crumbles a little bit. .. Even if they do have good taste.
With the fresh clothes on, I take a little bit of extra time to blow out some of my hair. I try to keep the heatless curls fluffy, but I know without any hair product, they’ll fall flat and be gone before bed, but at least it’s something for now.
When I exit the bathroom, Valor is in dark-wash jeans and a gray T-shirt. They’re practically molded to his skin. Is there anything he doesn’t look sexy in?
Shoes are set out for me next to the bed with a small handbag beside them. The small clutch I left in Valor’s SUV will likely fit in it.
“Ready to go?” Valor checks his watch, the door, me, and his watch again .
“Jesus, rush much?” The utterance comes out unchecked and unfiltered, and regret sinks in almost immediately.
“Sorry.” Valor’s apology holds sincerity. “I fuckin’ hate that we had to do this, like this, and I could really do with like four cheeseburgers and a stack of wings right about now. It’s not my intention to be a complete asshole to my wife.”
My wife. My whole body shudders, and I try to force it down. But no matter how hot he is, I can’t keep doing this back-and-forth.
“I don’t know where I stand with you.” I put the words out while slipping on the new shoes. They pinch a bit, but I ignore it.
Valor tilts his head and seemingly looks me over like I’ve said something incredibly complex. “Oh?”
“I’m serious, Valor.” I sigh and scrub my hand down my face, glad it’s free of makeup so I can be as tactile as I like. “What is it? How will this work? I can’t imagine this was how you saw your life going. It isn’t how I envisioned my own.”
But that last bit is a lie. I knew this would be my fate. I assumed it would be to someone less... What exactly? Attractive? Complicated? Powerful?
Valor stalks forward. The pumps I’m wearing give me a slight edge, but I miss the four-inch heels that brought me closer in height to his over-six-foot frame.
I’m not short at five-and-a-half feet tall, but Valor doesn’t hesitate to use that difference to his advantage.
We’re chest to chest when he slides his hand up my arm, across my shoulder, up my neck, and into my hair.
The way he interlaces his fingers into my hair is soft and intimate, a contrast to the stern look in his eye.
“I like the fire, princess.” His voice rumbles low. “I like that you feel comfortable enough to show me this spark. My people appreciate women who stand their ground. But I’m still your husband, and that spark is fine as a spark.” He narrows his eyes as if to emphasize his point .
I’m blaming the wetness in my panties on the way he fucked me. It’d be a lie. But I’m crediting the sex we’ve already had for the pull he has on my body. I lower my eyelids, unable to look away but giving him the respect of not looking at him.
“Now.” He dials back the intensity, and I can practically feel the change in the air as the dark, deadly side of Valor gives way. “I thought we’d go out, get some food —”
“Four cheeseburgers and a stack of wings.” I parrot back what he said earlier despite having been scolded for being bold.
“That and whatever you want to eat.” He pulls my hair gently, and I look up at him in response. There’s that sultry smile. “We’ll get to know each other and together come up with a plan of what the fuck we’re doing while being married.”
“Okay.”
It goes against my norm to let a man take control. But different, letting the experience happen, isn’t wrong. It’s survival.
Valor unthreads his fingers from my hair and gently runs them through the long strands, never getting them caught up or tugging too hard on a tangle.
I expected a driver and car waiting for us out front, but Valor fished keys out of his pocket and unlocked a black SUV parked in the hotel’s underground garage.
Like a gentleman, he opens my door for me and helps me up and inside before closing the door.
A glance over my shoulder tells me this must be his personal vehicle. A car kit featuring children’s essentials sits on the back seat, and a little trash can on the floor has a cereal bar wrapper in it.
Valor climbs in and notices me eyeing the back seat. “She’s a good kid but turns into a feral little beast if you don’t feed her regularly, and God help me, she went through that phase where they only eat like four things.”
“Then a giant growth spurt?” I offer, trying to keep him in this good mood.
“Yes, thankfully she still likes dresses because finding pants and shorts to fit her long legs is a nightmare.” Valor starts the SUV, and the radio lights up to a satellite kids’ station.
He’s quick to turn the sound off and moves the vehicle into gear.
“Do you eat cheeseburgers and wings? Or would something else be better?”
“Depends. Does your favorite cheeseburger and wings place serve beer and mixed drinks?” I don’t care if that makes me sound like a bad influence on his child. This day has been stressful enough that I deserve a drink.
“It wouldn’t be my favorite place if they didn’t.” Valor sighs and settles into his seat. “After dealing with your uncle, I believe we both deserve a couple of cold ones.”
“A-fuckin’-men.”
I feel safe with Valor behind the wheel. He’s not aggressive or erratic like Berto nor does he sit hunched over the steering wheel, gripping it like his life depends on it, driving like he’s afraid of the gas pedal, like Gregorio.
But perhaps most notable is that no one has tried to get ahold of him. I can tell his phone is in the vehicle because it automatically connected to the screen, but no message notifications or calls come through.
Is it because of the respect people have for him or something else that no one is contacting him? Maybe they expected us to still be fucking?