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“What I’m telling you, Carmella, is that everything about our marriage is going to be accurate. We will be man and wife in every aspect of the term. Including intimacy. Somehow, I don’t think we’ll have any issue with exploring our passion. Do you?”

As expected, she tilted her pretty head, providing all the heat and intensity I’d come to covet. “Just remember, that passion could have edges.”

“I wouldn’t anticipate anything less, but I assure you, I’m the kind of man who can handle it. In fact, I prefer a woman with verve and determination. Much more exciting.”

“Exciting,” she repeated. “Try abhorrent.”

“Tell yourself another lie. But I know the truth. Then again, so do you.”

I walked around her and into the other room without giving in to my desire to turn and stare into her pretty eyes.

My cock was already at full attention, pushing against my jeans. The reception might need to wait if only for a little while.

The thought finally brought a smile to my face.

CHAPTER13

Carmella

Fire imploded in my core, my skin searing from Alejandro’s touch and the powerful, dominating look on his face as he’d gazed all the way to the tennis shoes on my feet. Try as I had, the attraction to him was growing stronger. The draw to him unexplainable and inexcusable. I was smarter than to fall for a man in alluring attire.

My pussy still throbbed from the rough fucking we’d done earlier. Standing in front of the altar exchanging our vows had seemed surreal, a transcendent moment where I’d been staring down at a carbon copy, shell-like creature entirely different from the one I’d been for at least a full decade.

Two sides of me were weighing in. One was questioning continuously why being attracted to him was so bad. The other was laughing bitterly, making fun of me for even considering forming my own alliance with the handsome man. My inner voice of reason had gone so far as to wonder why I hadn’t brought a weapon with me.

I rolled my hand down my neck and before I knew what I was doing, I cringed from realizing I was swirling the tip of my index finger around my fully aroused nipple.

Goddamn, the man was infuriating.

Every ounce of my being wanted to hate him, but he had a way about him that not only intrigued my mind, his words and the heated looks he offered left me squeezing my thighs together.

I’d been brought up to believe every other mafia family and the minions who worked for them were my enemy, capable of doing cruel and heinous acts. Granted, as I’d gotten older, I’d learned there were not only two sides to every story, but criminals came in all sizes, shapes, and walks of life.

Upbringing didn’t matter, nor did incredible wealth or education. Those born with a penchant to cross the line, indulging in the gray area, included PTA moms and softball coaches. However, the alliance my father had entered into had seemed a spur of the moment decision instead of his usual well thought out process.

I wasn’t privy to any aspect of my father’s business. I was merely a princess after all, but I’d learned a few things by keeping my ear to the ground.

And by snooping.

For the first time it seemed as if my father was afraid of the future. Or of his mortality. Without a son at the age of claiming his empire, he remained in a vulnerable state. Much like Don Santorelli. The two men could be considered easier prey given their advanced age.

I stared long and hard at the empty doorway before turning toward the bed. Without being told anything about if or what a honeymoon might look like, I’d packed quickly, barely thinking about the items I’d tossed into the small case.

That suitcase had been snatched from the room I was staying in at my father’s house. It almost felt like an invasion of privacy. Drawn to the packages placed on the bed, hatred of my curiosity didn’t stop me from opening the bags. Inside I found two beautiful dresses that I knew would fit me perfectly, gorgeous lingerie, and a spectacular dark violet silk robe along with a stunning pair of heels.

I guess he’d taken a peek at the jeans and shirts I’d tossed into my personal bag, preferring to see me in something else. I hadn’t even selected a reception dress because I’d planned on insisting that I be taken home early while still wearing my wedding gown.

It would seem nothing was working out as I’d hoped.

At least either one of the beautiful dresses would work for the reception. Just peering down at the bags, tissue paper, and hangers full of lovely items became overwhelming enough that I thumped down on the bed. My fingers instantly went to the necklace he’d gifted me. As I rubbed the large stone, I tried to envision myself as a married woman.

To him.

I’d yet to wrap my head around it, but that would need to occur before we left the resort. I closed my eyes and a few brief images of my mother popped into my mind. One of the last memories I had of her was coming to this very hotel with both my parents. I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, eager to explore every inch of the harbor and docks, the restaurants and beaches.

It was the last time I remembered seeing my mother truly happy. So much of what had occurred after that remained a tremendous blur in my mind. My father had been told by some fabulous doctor that forgetting passages of time was my mind protecting itself. To me the shadowed memories felt like a prison cell.

Maybe being here was good for my mind. But what about my heart?

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