Page 26 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

I shake my head slowly, unable to tear my eyes away. Just as I open my mouth, the flight attendant comes out to verify we'll be landing in less than twenty minutes, and that the security team is already waiting for us on the tarmac.

He clears his throat, taking his hand off me, and I immediately feel the loss of his warmth as he sits up and scrubs a hand down his face. "Sorry. You were twitching in your sleep."

"Thank you," I reply softly.

And then he grunts , ruining the moment, gets up, takes the blanket from me, and heads to the back of the plane to get ready.

I don’t know why I thought anything would have changed between the hours we just spent with each other.

Stupid, stupid Sabrina… so pretty in a sparkly gown, still so full of hope… Don’t you know hope is a silent killer?

It's like a block party when we arrive via limousine at his father's villa in the small village outside of Verona. There are tables and so many people waving at us, and children line the streets like we're a parade.

"Maksim, what is this?"

"I don’t know. I’m assuming the wives organized this, since they always do, but this... is a joyous occasion. This entire village is nothing but cousins and family of the families." He says, staring out the tinted window.

I didn't have time to prepare myself.

My panic spikes and I try to settle myself; my gloves are already wrinkled with how much I've twisted my fingers around them. Suddenly, my corset is too tight, and the limousine is too small, pulsing around me.

"Maksim," I gulp the air around me down, tense and unrelenting, and it feels like I'm swallowing nails.

He puts his large hands on mine, and I can't help but shudder at the warmth of them. How are they so warm? I need... I need Parker.

I close my eyes and think of him. The way his lips felt, how his voice was so hoarse when he said, " It's showtime..."

I can do this.

I, Sabrina Giordano, wife of notorious Maksim Giordano, am so in love with him.

He is my everything. My husband. He adores me.

I'm as smitten with him as he is with me.

He's everything to me and vice versa. He loves my cupcakes, apparently.

I am going to enjoy my stay here. I know everyone's names. He is my husband. My husband.

I can feel the beat of my heart slow to a snail's pace. The world outside is nothing but white noise.

I am gracious and elegant, and they will find me eloquent and lovely and worthy of him. I am Maksim Giordano's wife. I love my husband, and he loves me…

The limousine stops as the switch in my mind flips.

I can stand his touches. I can meet new people. I can stand my husband's touch. I like the way my husband’s hands feel on me. I love his touches.

"Are you ready?"

I open my eyes and smile, "Of course, darling. How do I look?"

Dark eyes skim over me, and I feel the heat of his stare like a laser, as he simply replies, "Still as beautiful as the day I first saw you."

The compliment... does something to me. Surely that has to be a lie. I'm nothing like the women he's been photographed with – thin, Italian bombshells.

I am very pale… and very English .

The door opens as Maksim steps out and leans back inside to take my hand and help me out.

I now understand why Maksim's father had us chauffeured immediately here, without stopping.

To everyone else, it looks like a bride and groom who just arrived at their reception.

My father-in-law may be old but he's definitely not doddering.

The cheeky old sod planned this perfectly. Hmm. I think I like him.

"What's that little hum for?"

"Your father might just be a mastermind."

"He's strategic."

"Well," I say, grinning up at him, not shrugging him off when he places his hand around my waist. His hand lands on my hip, tucking me under his arm.

He smells so good. How does he smell so good?

I don't allow myself to concentrate on the chill that slithers down my spine at his touch.

I remind myself it's over my gown, not directly on my skin .

I love the way my husband's hands feel on me .

"I love a man with a plan. As nefarious as he may be. "

A ghost of a smile spreads across his face, grunting in agreement.

After taking pictures and having lunch at the block party with well, everyone , we're shown to the Giordano villa at the top of the hill.

Although fortified, it is grand and gorgeous, with white stone walls, a Calcutta roof, arched entryways, and windows with red shutters.

It’s like looking at a detailed painting of a landscape.

Stepping through the threshold in Maksim's arms – as we do for show, since the whole village is watching – and yes, four women stare daggers through me the entire time, I almost gasp when he kicks the door shut behind us.

The sun peeking through the blinds reflects off the white marble floors, making them glitter.

The trim along the archways that lead into the hall is painted gold, but the most fascinating thing is across the room: floor-to-ceiling windows that show a beautiful view of the city of Verona in the distance, along with a large pool in the backyard.

My hand finds purchase on my pendant as I hold my breath, taking in the sight. I’ve been to this country many times, but this… this is an entirely different experience. “Maksim,” I breathe. “It’s beautiful.”

"Come, I'll show you to your room."

I take in every detail, every picture on the walls, but I stop and gaze at the blown-up family portrait of a young version of Maksim, his father, and a brunette with beautiful bright blue eyes and a gorgeous smile.

She sits between her son and husband like a queen on her throne.

Both men look dangerous. I take a chance and glance up at Maksim.

His brows are pinned together, and there’s a look of deep longing and a hint of sadness on his face.

The vulnerability there peeks through but for only a moment.

He flicks his gaze to mine, and that look is replaced by. .. something.

I want to tell him that she’s beautiful, that I would have loved to have met her, sat down with her over breakfast and had a cuppa with her. I want to tell him the pictures I saw of her online don’t do her justice… but then he’d know I did research on his mother’s gruesome and untimely death.

I want to reach out, place a hand on his arm, and comfort him. He makes a motion with his head, silently telling me to follow, and I do.

"There are clothes for you in the wardrobe. The wives went shopping for you. Bath is through that door."

I arch a brow. "How do they know my size?"

He smirks. "You have your ways... I have mine." He recites my own words back to me.

He turns to leave.

"Maksim?"

"Hmm?"

"I... I'm going to need help getting out of this dress. The buttons..."

He faces me slowly, his throat bobbing and the look in his eyes is either murderous.

.. or hungry. He twirls a finger in the air, and I spin around to face the view, sweeping my hair to the side with one hand.

I hold my breath when I feel his hand on the nape of my neck, and goosebumps erupt everywhere.

I ignore the electricity crackling between us as featherlight, effortless, skimming touches begin.

He does his best not to touch me with his nimble, expert fingers as my dress becomes loose around my chest..

. my ribs... my tummy. I clutch the corset before it drops completely.

The door behind me slams shut, and I'm left alone with nothing but the view of Romeo and Juliet's city staring back at me.

I let my dress drop, ignoring my reflection in the full-length mirror sitting in the corner of the room. It displays my body wearing the virginal white, expensive, lingerie that was made to be ripped apart and destroyed by a husband who couldn't wait to ravage his wife.

I strip it off... and throw it in the waste bin.