Page 13 of Ruthless Lord

Charlie

A fter my husband’s little tantrum in front of my bridal party, the wedding is a total blur.

All the major families sent representatives. The reception is a who’s who of the rich and powerful Philadelphia social scene. Politicians from both sides of the aisle play nice with each other, and the police chief mingles at the bar with known gangsters.

My grandfather lords over the proceedings with a cigar and a stern glare. Don Marino remains by his side most of the evening.

The pair of them look like a couple of assholes.

Mercifully, my parents don’t show up.

The ceremony itself is brief and uninspired, at least until Stefano kisses me. I get a brief flashback to our night together, but I pull away before the memory can ignite into something more.

My husband seems bored by everything.

Which is fine. I manage to avoid him most of the night. I’m whisked around from table to table, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, smiling until my face feels like a roasted hot dog, and generally acting like this isn’t the worst night of my life.

I’m in pure survival mode. The only highlight is when I get to chat briefly with Don Marino’s wife, a girl named Lucy who used to hang around my social circle, at least until she was ostracized for some stupid rich person reason.

I like her, though, and would love more time to talk, except I get pulled away by the wife of the state treasurer, a ghastly lady named Tricia with more fake diamonds than a glitter bomb.

As she talks about her third son, Chester, and his troop of probably asshole friends, I wonder if anyone would care if I jumped out a window, until a shadow comes looming up at my elbow.

Fake Diamond Tricia’s Botox smile manages to relax as a big, strong hand takes me by the elbow.

I look over and find Stefano with a dark, serious expression on his face.

My stomach twists the way it always does when he’s this close.

The man’s too attractive. It isn’t remotely fair.

He’s supposed to be a brutal maniac, not a gorgeous god-like being with the jaw of a model and the body of a ruthless killer.

He even smells good, which should just be straight up illegal.

The man deserves jail for being so hot. At least that way, if he were locked up, I wouldn’t be tempted to jump his bones.

Because the fact is he rattled me earlier.

“Excuse me,” Stefano says in that obscenely hot baritone rumble. “But I need to talk logistics and business with my wife.”

Fake Diamond Tricia’s hand drifts to her chest, like she’s about to palm her own tits or something. It’s a little sad, seeing her practically swoon over my husband. “Oh, yes, ah, of course… logistics… very important…”

“I think so too.” Stefano’s grip tightens almost painfully. “Don’t you, darling ?”

“I love logistics.” I beam at Fake Diamond Tricia. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Come on back,” she says, fanning herself and staring at Stefano.

He pulls me away. I glare up at him, annoyed. “That woman was staring at you like she wanted to suck your toes.”

His eyebrows arch. “Is she into that?”

“I don’t know! Probably!”

“Are you into that?” He tugs me closer as we make our way through the crowd. A few important people try to stop us, but Stefano outright ignores them.

“I’m not discussing my kinks with you.”

“Just so you know, I’m very open to trying new things, and I have an extensive and flexible palate.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” I want to straight up die. “Where are we going?”

“I told you already. We have business.” Stefano steers me away from the main ballroom and into a quieter back room.

There are paintings of old dead presidents hanging on the walls.

A big set of French doors leads into what looks like a tea room, clearly not in use at the moment.

He shoves me inside, whirls around, and jams a chair to keep them shut.

“If you’re about to assault me, I think you should know that I’m a very good screamer.” I back away as he turns to me. “I can be extremely loud.”

His lips quirk. “I’ve heard you scream, wife. I’m aware.”

My cheeks flush, but I keep staring at him hard. “I’m being serious.”

“Relax.” He brushes past me, deeper into the room. “I just figured you’d need a break.”

I glance at the doors. I could easily move the chair and leave. It’s not so much keeping me in here but keeping everyone else out there.

Which is honestly refreshing.

Stefano drifts over to a set of decorative shelves.

Dozens of teapots cover them, all totally different from each other.

Some glazed, some rough clay, others clearly very, very old.

He picks up a few, and I struggle not to say anything, but I can already hear his retort. Always follow the rules, rich girl?

“Where have you been all night, anyway?”

“The bar.”

“That’s kind of a cliché, you know. New husband getting drunk on his wedding night? The ending practically writes itself.”

He plunks down a teapot, the lid rattling, and looks back at me. “Are you trying to make a whiskey dick joke?”

“Not so much a joke, but—” I cross my arms and shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. Not like we’re doing that anyway.”

“I promise you, wife ?—”

“You keep saying that word like it’s an insult,” I mutter, glaring at him.

“—I have no problem performing no matter how much I’ve had to drink.”

“Good for you. I bet all the ladies love it when you’re wasted and sweating on them.”

“Is that what it was like with me?”

I can say with absolute frankness that no, it was not even remotely like that at all. But I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

Instead, I change the subject.

“I assume, since the wedding happened, you dropped off the paperwork with my family’s lawyer.”

“That’s right. He practically came in his pants from excitement.” Stefano gives me a lingering stare before wandering around the room again, back to his default state of boredom. “I take it, since you melted in my embrace up on that altar?—”

“Not the words I’d use!”

“—that you haven’t forgotten what I said to you earlier.”

He’s not looking at me, but I feel extremely seen.

It took a lot of guts and poise to face him down in nothing but a scrap of silk and bobby pins.

I’m pretty sure the girls that did my hair and makeup snuck off to the bathroom to masturbate while thinking about Stefano’s dirty mouth the second they were finished with me.

At least Emily had the good grace to look mortified.

“I also remember telling you multiple times that sex isn’t happening.”

“I’m going to offer you a deal.” He clicks a teacup, making it rattle in place. I’m pretty sure it’s at least a hundred years old. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything about it. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Not really.”

“Since you love logistics so much, here’s my proposal. You can make one rule about our relationship. One ironclad rule, which I swear to you on my life I will never break.”

That gets my attention. I consider him for a moment, head tilted to the side. “What makes you think I’d want to do something like that?”

He gives me a cool look. “Basically, everything about you screams rule follower .”

“God, you really are a prick, you know that?”

“One rule, Charlie. Anything you want.”

“How do I know you’ll actually obey it?”

He smiles at that. “Because I do what I say I’m going to do.”

“Convenient. Real trustworthy.” I look away, back at the chair holding the doors closed. Move it away, walk out of here, return to the agonizingly boring party… “What do you want in exchange?”

I don’t even know why I’m asking. No part of me wants to play his game. I get the feeling that once I start making deals, he’s not going to stop asking for more.

One promise becomes another, until I’ve tangled myself in this vicious man’s web.

I’m not his toy. There’s no way I’ll be his plaything.

But if I can make my life a little bit easier…

“I want to spank you, kiss you, slide my fingers between your thighs, and make you come. Just like I promised earlier.”

Well, shit.

If I had just the slightest bit less self-control, a moan would escape my lips.

I barely manage to swallow it instead.

Stefano stares at me, apparently not joking around. His eyes burn into mine, and I can almost taste the desire crackling in the air. The tension’s terrible, an oppressive weight, one that makes me want to bend.

Down into his lap…

“Any rule I want?” I whisper, heart racing into my throat. What am I doing right now? Am I seriously considering this?

He comes closer. “Anything you want, Charlie.”

Dumb. Stupid. Insane.

“You realize you’re giving me the better deal.”

“We’ll see.”

Knock away the chair.

Run .

“You have ten minutes before people start to worry about me.” My heart hammers right into my throat as a silky thrill glides down between my legs. “Better get started.”