Page 37 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

I almost stumble hearing my new last name but catch myself and grin awkwardly. God that felt so weird to hear. “Of course, Jorge. I hope you enjoy them.”

“Oh, we love your cupcakes, Mrs. G. Best cupcakes in town. You really should open up your own bakery. You’d be sold out in a New York Minute.”

Maksim pulls me away crudely by the arm before I can respond to the building’s lovely security guard. It's when we're outside that I can see the man I married seems to be fuming. “Well, that was rude.”

“No more cupcakes.” He barks.

“I know I said this before but, I beg your pardon ?”

“Nobody else needs to talk about the way my wife's cupcakes taste.” He bites on the T and the low grumble in his voice is…

I hold the shiver that wants to scatter through my bones as I tilt my head back to look up at him. Eyes dark, jealousy flickering through them… Fuck .

“And you look fucking ridiculous.”

Nope, it's gone. All tingling has ceased to exist, I bite back my retort, inhaling as deeply as I can and then climb into the SUV, looking out the window. I mean, I know I may look a little silly, and I do feel ridiculous, but it’s for children, and I always wanted to be a fairy.

Let’s be honest - Tinkerbell was an absolute rioting menace.

We should all aspire to be a little more Tink, and a little less princess.

I barely have time to get through my mantra before we're shuffling out of the vehicle and surprise, surprise, the venue is at a golf resort in Long Island. As we enter through the side to bring in and begin to set up cupcakes, the wives get loud from their excitement, calling out my name and commenting on my fairy dress. It grates on my nerves a bit but I know they’re being nice.

Only the younger wives, Samantha, the redhead, and Viviana, are dressed like princesses.

Angie and Franny are dressed in pants suits.

Though, they do wear crowns. I like it. It suits them.

I give Maksim a pointed look. See? But he only blinks back at me in annoyance and buggers off to do Very Important Things with the husbands. Probably schmooze whilst having a cigar while organizing the next mob undertaking or whatever it is his coven does.

I’ve only just learned (after sitting through a wives luncheon) that Angie is a gallerist in Brooklyn. Sammie is still a student at NYU, Vivi is a real estate agent, and Franny develops software for Very Important Companies.

Or so they say.

While Samantha Rossi truly is a student at NYU, she’s studying criminal law in order to be able to defend her husband and the other capos if ever need be.

Angie’s gallery is used as a way to do white collar crimes.

Viviana sells hide-out spots to crime lords under the guise of a realty company.

Francesca develops spyware disguised as software that is used to hack into large, unsuspecting companies.

I… bake.

The grounds of the golf course are overtaken by a small Ferris wheel, games, rides, little booths, and kiosks. Parker helps me set mine up. Vivi is beside me, putting up her face painting stand with dozens of stencils, sponges, and brushes on a white table.

“So, what's the money being raised for this going towards? I know it's for the hospital but-”

Vivi gives me a scrunch of her pert nose, and her left eye squints a bit. “Cancer ward.”

I put my hands on my sparkly hips. “Oh.”

Vivi nods, putting up a mirror so kids can see their little faces. “Angie doesn't talk about it much, but their oldest daughter, Gia, had cancer when she was just seven. She was in remission for a long time. Then all of a sudden - ovarian cancer.”

I didn't read that in the files Jonathan gave me. Probably because it's none of my business. “Is she okay now?”

“If you can define getting the chance to have children naturally taken away from you ‘okay,’ then yes. She's fine. She lives in Jersey. She's an art teacher at a private school. She'll be here later.” She says, tilting her head in a quick jerk toward the second barstool beside hers.

“Can't wait to meet her,” I smile.

From where we’re perched, I can hear car doors opening and closing, the sound of excited children and their parents yelling after them to not run in the busy parking lot.

I do end up meeting Gia, but she’s incredibly quiet, reminding me of Raven in a way.

The day goes by fast. I take pictures with kids and their parents.

By the end of it all, I only have one cookie, and four cupcakes left.

At the end of the evening, after all the kids are gone, and all the kiosks, little tables, and tarps have been put away by staff, the wives and I go and get dressed in the locker room with the other wives.

Inside of the venue is a gala to be hosted for all the Very Important People.

Doctors, Surgeons, high-brow donors, etc. ...

I walk out to find Maksim waiting for me. He has dark circles under his eyes, but he looks a bit refreshed and has a clean suit on. He looks dashing. “Were you able to take a nap?”

He nods, holding out his arm and I take it, placing my hand on his large, wonderfully toned bicep, then hand him a napkin. “What's this?”

“I saved you a caramel and chocolate chip cookie. If you don't want it, I'll eat it.”

He splits it in half and gives me a piece. I wait for him to bite into it and preen when he moans, shoving my half into my mouth. “Oh great,” he groans.

I swallow down my bites. “What is it?”

“Now I'm going to hear people talk about how good my wife's cookie tasted.”

I throw my head back and laugh. Maks stiffens and stops walking, looking down at me.

He looks so serious, but his eyes seem to darken.

His thumb comes up to my face, and I hold my breath while he wipes the corner of my mouth so softly.

If he wasn't so warm I would barely feel his touch.

He puts his thumb to his mouth, and I follow when he licks the chocolate off. “Delicious cookie indeed.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, taking in the roguish Italian features of his face, noticing when the muscle of his jaw clenches with a tic. He's fucking beautiful. Even the length of his sooty lashes is so unfair. I have to stop myself from thinking if our children would be blessed with his lashes.

“When we enter together, I'm going to kiss you, okay?”

“Okay,” I breathe, remembering the last time his lips were on mine was our wedding day.

He takes a step forward, but it's not until he takes another when I realize he's practically dragging me along. “Tired?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.”

He gives one curt nod, but I'm still looking up at him, at the way the stubble on his strong cut jaw only heightens his dangerous appeal. What does he think about? I know he thinks his wife is ridiculous, but what else does he think about? It can't all just be murder, mayhem and booze, can it?

Without lowering his head, because my husband walks tall and strong, his eyes meet mine in a side eye. “What is it?”

“You, uh-erm, nothing. You just look rather beautiful tonight.” I mumble shyly.

“Repeat that?”

I blush, feeling his bicep beneath his jacket where I'm holding onto for what feels like dear life. I suddenly feel like I'm fourteen years old again and telling a boy at school I fancy him. “You look good. Tonight. Uh, Mr. Giordano.”

He smirks, never taking the eye I can see from here off me. “You look beautiful tonight as well, Wife.”

Oh, so the wanker did hear me.

“And I'm sorry about this morning. You did a good thing. I don't think I've seen so many children line up for a picture with a fairy before. I'm sorry I called you ridiculous.”

“Then why did you?”

We're finally at the entrance of the venue, and the arm I was holding goes around my waist, his hand planted firmly on my hip.

“Because I wanted to bend you over the stairs and see if I could make your little wings flutter while your pussy milked my dick, and I was angry I couldn't.” He growls, pulling me in for a kiss that feels like more than just a kiss.

His free hand cups my jaw, something that would have me spiraling only makes me feel slightly dizzy, wanting more.

He doesn't break my lips apart or even lick at them, still, the heat of it slips from my lips to the middle of my chest and spreads throughout my body only to land on my core.

He smells fantastic. I almost moan when he pulls away, and my body follows as though seeking the warmth of his.

Oh, I'm in such deep shit.

I'm playing with fire.

Or maybe he is.

We're seated with the families, wine and food before us, along with little treats that were catered.

People come to the table and congratulate Angie on the one hundred and sixty thousand she raised after her speech.

Along with greeting all of the Dangerous Dons at the table, Maksim proudly introduces me to each and every single one of them as his wife, keeping his arm around me possessively as we take pictures with the group.

I haven't seen Parker for hours.

"Are you okay?"

I put a gloved hand in his and lean over a little closer, so it looks as though we're having a small intimate moment. "I haven't seen Savage in a while, have you?"

The tip of his nose follows the shell of my ear, and his lips are so close I have to close my eyes, doing my best to contain the chills that want to erupt everywhere.

"Mmm... seems he's by the bar. Drink in hand.

Blending in. Eyes on you, little star. Always on you. You smell so fucking good, Sabrina."

He leans back again, and I turn my head to find Parker in a fresh suit and tie as well, eyes on me.

His face looks... well, he looks either confused or constipated.

I face my husband. Before I can open my mouth and reply, he whispers, “My mouth keeps watering at the thought of going under this table and tasting your cookie myself. Devouring it in one… single… bite.”

Oh my god.