Page 10 of The Mafia Assassin’s Redemption (Mafia Obsession #2)

NINE

torin

I’m pretty damn sure Cal didn’t fuck his wife the night when he had to marry her.

Still, there was blood on the sheet. I’m sure that’s what Harry’s priest wants with the blood ritual since the superficial wounds on our hands aren’t binding.

But I’ve read everything I could find on the Dark Web about blood weddings in the mafia. They require blood and fluids. The sexual act has to be completed to prove the girl is pure, and by consummating the marriage, she effectively becomes the groom’s property.

“It’s not happening,” she whispers, defiance flashing in her eyes.

“Did you know that spectators used to stand around the bed to watch the act?” I ask softly. “I can get them down here if you’d rather have an audience.”

“You’re vile.”

“Am I?” I remove the ribbons from the flowers she hit me with on her way down.

The satin is stained with blood but I don’t mind.

Blood has been part of my world for as long as I can remember.

It still is even though I’m mostly behind a computer these days.

I still do quiet jobs, assassinations when needed, for Cal.

But we don’t do hits for hire outside the family, and the one I did for her by killing Bernardo? That was just part of my self-imposed penance to keep her safe.

Now we’re here, standing in front of the bed. Face-to-fucking-face and she’s both nothing like I thought and better than I could imagine.

She says I’m vile, but the little twist at the end of the word hooks into my flesh.

I take one of her hands and use the ribbon to cover the cut on her hand. Shockingly, she lets me.

“Are you sure you’re not a little vile too? Because I can hear it.”

“Hear what?” she asks, fingers curling in over mine a little, and that movement ignites nerve endings up my arm.

“The change in your breathing.” I tie the ribbon and tuck in the ends, then lift her hand. “The excitement and intrigue that makes your cheeks flush.”

I kiss her palm.

She snatches her hand away. “I don’t want to be watched, you sicko. And I don’t want to have sex with you.”

She does, on both counts.

And I can’t say it doesn’t send a jolt to my groin. There’s a small part of me that likes voyeuristic acts. I’ve fucked submissives in a club in front of people. I once whipped one with a penchant for pain and blood play, then rewarded her with my cock in her mouth.

Most of my sexual experiences, other than the ones with Siobhan, have been in sex clubs.

It’s just tidier that way.

But the thought of being watched while I fuck Harry… Christ, I could get off on the mental picture alone .

I quickly tie the second ribbon around my wounded hand, using my teeth and other hand to knot it.

Maybe there’s a way to fake the sex.

But they won’t be happy with just dripping blood on a sheet. They might not have the portable lab I joked about, but that’s because in the past, during these types of ceremonies, they put a special compound in the sheet fabric. One that turns red to show the fluids exchanged and the act completed.

It changes over a few hours, from what my research has told me, and by the time I have her virginity, I’m not sure I’ll ever let her go, no matter what she thinks or says.

For a moment, my vision wavers as I turn away from her and walk over to a table where a bottle of vanilla-scented rum sits. I pour a glass for myself, then one for her. I down mine and refill the glass while settling my mind and grasping the remaining shreds of self-control I have left.

I mean, I won’t ever let her go until she’s safe, and then I’ll make fucking sure she’s a long way from here with a brand-new name and life.

A name I don’t know.

I’m not my brother. I’m not about to fall for a girl who fucking despises me.

Callahan, a man who limits emotions and keeps them tightly reeled in, fell for his wife. He’ll do anything, kill anyone who needs it, to protect his Lucie.

I used to think the two of us were cut from the same cloth, but it turns out the scissors were different.

He loves.

I don’t.

Not anymore.

Not outside family.

I’ll fucking shoot anyone who dares harm them .

But Harry…

I’ll protect her, too. Kill anyone in her way, anyone who wants to harm her.

Just as I have.

But that’s not out of love. It’s guilt, the constant need to fix a failure that’s irreparable.

Redemption isn’t for me, not with this woman who fucking hates me. She might want me. I understand lust. Hormones. Chemistry. But it’s not love. I don’t deserve it. And I sure as hell don’t give it.

She clears her throat and I down my second drink, pour a third, and pick it up with hers. I walk back to her and hold out the glass.

“Like it or not, Harriet, we’re going to have to do this.”

She snatches the drink, looking fucking ridiculous in the world’s worst dress. No, not even a dress. It’s a hideous, old-fashioned nightgown my mam wouldn’t even wear. “I don’t like it. At all. And you need to call me Hazel. It’s the name I go by.”

“I know. Harry.”

Those eyes narrow to slits and her nostrils flare. “It won’t be consensual. Are you into rape?”

“It won’t be rape.”

“But I don’t want you.” And even as she speaks the words, her gaze latches on to my hard-on and the disdain melts from her expression.

Fuck me, she just licked her lips.

I’m pretty fucking sure my dick just got bigger.

The confines of my pants restrict my cock and it strains against them. And then her hungry eyes make my balls tighten and ache.

“Are you sure about that?” I raise a brow.

“You need a shave,” she snaps, ignoring my question. Although, her body language makes it a rhetorical one .

I run a hand over my stubble and grin. “You’re deflecting. My face isn’t in question. Don’t worry, love. I promise my well-endowed, manscaped cock will take very good care of you.”

“Isn’t that nice?” she says, color blossoming in her cheeks. But her nipples bead against the nightie as she drags her eyes away. “And I’m sure. I don’t want you. This isn’t happening.”

Now I sigh. “If we don’t produce a bona fide marriage sheet, then the hit’s back on and I can’t help you.”

That’s a lie. I’ll fucking take out anyone who looks like a threat to Harry. Even Salvatore.

But I know Cal would step in and stop it. Even an anonymous hit on him would be traced back to me.

Needlessly starting a war is not on Callahan’s agenda.

Or mine.

And after I already killed his brother, taking out Salvatore would be pushing it.

I could just destroy every Ricci in existence, pin the blame on some poor bastard, and then hide Harry away. Even then, all it takes is one moment.

That’s all.

One moment.

One bullet.

And it’s like losing Shiv again, but this time it’d be Harry lying in my arms.

“We’ll fake it,” Harry says.

I sip my drink. She does the same. She’s jumpy, and… excited. It might be a terrible, unwanted feeling of excitement, but it’s excitement.

And my cock twitches, getting harder still.

Everything about her is a come-on, a taunt. A challenge. And I’m aware of a clock ticking in my head. We won’t be allowed to stay in here all night. I need to take her. Fuck her. Seal the deal of this blood marriage .

“No, I don’t…” She gulps down her drink and skirts around me to get to the bottle, filling her glass until it’s almost overflowing.

Jesus. She’s short and slender. She’ll be drunk before long.

Or maybe that’s the point.

Her thoughts are leapfrogging through her mind.

I recognize the frenzied look. The one a sub gets before her first time, where she’s itching to know what she’s going to get.

Even though the sub and I both know the boundaries because they’re discussed in advance, there’s still a thrill of what’s actually going to happen.

And for me? The thrill is in deciding the type of sub I want.

I like brats. I like when boundaries are pushed and explored, and then I take over. I like making them do what I want, what I need.

Her outfit, her defiance, her fire… it all screams pure brat.

I nod toward her nightie. “You didn’t like the dresses I sent?”

“I like this.”

“You would,” I say softly. I approach her and let her back away until she hits the stone wall. I wait as she downs half the drink. Then I place my glass down next to one of the flickering lamps and box her in, a hand planted on either side of her face.

“Everything about you is a challenge, isn’t it? From the garish cross that’s about to break your neck to your surprising choice of fuck-me-now heels.”

“I wore this getup to embarrass you.”

Oh, that she did, but it failed.

“You didn’t. Very much the opposite, but you know…” I run a hand down her cheek, along the side of her neck, and over the bruise I left with my teeth. Then I slide it under her breast and squeeze.

Her nipple hardens and I flick it with my thumb, watching her face as she bites her lip, her inner struggle against her desire such an erotic show. She should be on a fucking stage making money with that look.

Not that I’d fucking let her.

“I’d prefer you naked,” I say before dipping my head to suck her other nipple. I’m close enough to feel her heart race erratically. Her breaths are short and shallow, her skin flushed pink.

Harry moans.

I bite her nipple.

“Oh God!”

I lift my head, grinning. “You are truly fucking divine.”

Her silver eyes turn almost gold in the light. “Oh yeah? Well, I know what you are, too.”

“And what’s that?”

“A monster.” She throws her drink in my face.

For a fleeting second, shock hits me with the hand-warmed liquid. There wasn’t much in the glass, but it was enough, and I take that opportunity and unbutton my shirt. My cuff links hit the stone floor as I do so. I peel off the shirt and wipe my face.

When I look at her, her expression is alive with a mix of horror and something else I can’t quite read. Her gaze shifts from the Celtic tattoos on my chest to the wound on my upper arm where she shot me years ago.