Page 23 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

She pauses for a second, then offers a forced smile and takes my hands.

“However did I manage to disembark a chopper before you, Kingston?” she says as we walk toward the glass door, her arm looped in mine.

“All about putting on a show, right?” I look down at her and she nods quickly.

“Always and only.” Her lips pull into a tight smile. “Even if backstage is a prison.”

A man opens the door and waves his hand into the opulent hallway. Golden sconces adorn the walls, and crystal chandeliers glitter from their perch on the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the space.

The doors to the ballroom open. My arm drops, snaking around her waist, my hand firm against her as we walk into the lion’s den. I pull her close, gritting my teeth when I see that asshole Roman standing with a woman near the bar.

Their heads are bent as they talk in hushed tones. She smiles, then puts a hand on his arm.

That’s when Livvie stiffens against me. My blood curdles in my veins, rage rising in my chest.

I dig my fingers into her waist. “Smile,” I hiss. “Otherwise, you’ll look weak.”

“I need a drink,” she murmurs.

“Why? Because that jackass is over there and you want to see him up close?”

I nudge her toward a vacant corner and back her against the wall, pasting a fake-ass smile on my face. I wrap an arm around her, nuzzling her ear.

“Don’t make me look like a fucking fool, Livvie. I don’t know why the hell he keeps showing up where you are, but I don’t like it. And you’d better not think of engaging with him. Understand?”

She reaches a hand around the back of my head, laces her fingers into it, and gives it a hard tug backward. “Are you seriously telling me who I can and cannot speak to? I am not your property, Kingston.”

“That ring on your finger says otherwise, princess. And you’ll do what I say when I say it. I’m responsible for your safety now. Not him.”

Her expression of disgust falters for a split second, like she now remembers that our lives hung in the balance just a few hours ago at our wedding reception.

“Neither of us knows who took that shot,” I say. “For all you know, that guy had something to do with it.”

Livvie lets out a dry laugh. “He’s my dad’s top security guy. There’s no way he’d target me. Roman will always look out for me out of loyalty to my da. Who, by the way, trusts him a hell of a lot more than he trusts my husband.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your father’s directives or who he trusts. You’re a Viacava now, so start acting like it. You heard the same threat I did from that Red Tribunal asshat. We play our parts or there will be consequences. So stay away from the pretty boy wearing a cheap suit.”

My pulse hammers hard against the side of my throat. She’s so close, so fucking fiery. My fingers fist the flimsy fabric of her dress, so tempted to tear it from her body. I wonder what kind of panties she’s wearing under there.

I wonder if she’s wearing panties at all…

Her lips slowly curl upward. “Wow, Kingston. You’rejealous that he can carry off a cheap suit and you have to pay a tailor to make you look good.”

I smirk. “You think I look good, princess?”

She licks her lips and my pulse thrums. “You’re not hard to look at. Shame your huge fucking ego makes you ugly. If I want to talk to my family’s security detail, I will and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Anger flares in my chest. “If people see that asshole swarm you, they’ll talk. They’ll think my family is weak, that your fucking family still has a hold over you. That our union is worthless.” I lean in close. “And make no mistake, that is definitely not the case. So play your goddamn part or else.”

“Or else what?” she sneers. “Are you going to bend me over your knee and spank me?”

“Is that a request, princess?” I growl through gritted teeth. “I bet your little pussy would love it so fucking much, you’d soak your panties.”

“Ha, doubtful,” she scoffs as I lift a hand and run my thumb over her jugular. It pulses hard against the pad of my fingertip and I smile.

“You need to have a serious talk with that body of yours, Liv. Because it keeps betraying you.”

Her lips part, no doubt ready to make a snappy comment in response when my brother’s booming voice breaks through the tension so thick, you could use a steak knife to cut it.