Page 11 of Unworthy Ties
Tears prickled in my eyes, but it wasn’t from the happiness of being a newlywed. Instead, they were the bitter tears of loss, wondering what my life would have been like if I wasn’t in this situation.
“I’m glad that’s over,” Rocco muttered, unbuttoning his cuff links and placing them on the side table.
The wedding was finally done. It was almost physically painful receiving congratulations from family members and friends, their smiles stretching too wide, their eyes not quite reaching the same merriment. They knew the reason for this marriage.
We had arrived back at our hotel room that was anything but romantic, with its cold marble floors and impersonal artwork adorning the walls. The weight of the diamond ring on my finger felt like a shackle more than a symbol of love.
My eyes flitted around the room until they landed on the bed. Suddenly, being swarmed by well-wishers and loud music at mywedding sounded much better than being in this hotel room. I knew I was going to have to share that bed with Rocco tonight, and that thought alone sent shivers up my spine.
Would he fuck me the same way he had kissed me, full of intensity and a hint of roughness that left me breathless? I mentally scolded myself for thinking such things about him.
Rocco poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing loudly in the otherwise silent room. I watched as he downed it in one go and then refilled his glass, the liquor’s harsh scent permeating the air, mixing with my unease.
I scoffed. Apparently, the idea of sleeping with me was so repulsive he had to be drunk.
“What?” he asked, catching my soft disdain with his sharp ears.
I should have told him ‘nothing,’ but instead I told him exactly what I was thinking. “Is the idea of sleeping with me so terrible you have to be drunk for it?”
“Oh?”
He set his drink on the counter and stalked towards me like a predator closing in on its prey, his gaze never once leaving mine. I instinctively backed away until I hit the wall, my heart pounding like a wild drum in my chest. His hands planted on either side of me, trapping me.
“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low and velvet-smooth. A few strands of his dark hair had fallen onto his forehead, his suit jacket discarded and his sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins running down his strong arms. The sight was alarmingly attractive, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing.
I could feel the warmth emanating from him, causing my cheeks to flush. “Isn’t it?” I stuttered, refusing to break eye contact with him.
“It’s quite the contrary.”
Rocco pressed his pelvis into mine and I gasped as his hardness was evident, his desire as palpable as the tension that filled the room. He lowered his head a little, his hot breath fanning my face, making me dizzy with anticipation and fear. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that startled me, the golden flecks in them glowing like embers in the dim light.
“The thought of touching you…” he trailed off, running a hand down my side and letting it rest on my hip, his grip firm yet gentle. “But you’re not ready for that, right?”
It was odd seeing this side of Rocco; one that considered my feelings and cared about my comfort. The only version of him I knew was aloof and detached, a man who approached the world with brutal honesty and an unyielding veneer of cold indifference.
Of course I wasn’t ready for sex. I was still trying to get over a ten-year crush on his brother, and now I was forced to share a bed with him. I’d probably never be ready for it. I should just get it over with now; rip it off like a band-aid that had been stuck for too long.
But I couldn’t.
“No,” I conceded, looking at the floor.
He exhaled, a low sound that was almost a growl. His grip on my hip loosened before his hand fell away entirely. I felt the loss of contact instantly, a chill seeping into the space where his warmth had been.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” he said, his voice taking on the usual cold indifference. He turned and walked toward the adjacent bathroom, leaving me standing alone, my back still pressed against the cool wall. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing and slow my racing heart.
I couldn’t believe I was locked into a lifetime with this man.
Chapter 6
Rocco
Gabriella and I had gotten married yesterday, but we chose to forgo a honeymoon. For me, the mafia underworld didn’t stop running just because I got married. And Gabriella? Well, she preferred not being in my company, to put it mildly.
Now, I was walking up to the Salvaggio estate, because Maximo Salvaggio had requested my presence “immediately.” Maximo was Gianni’s eldest son and was set to take over as Don when he died, whenever that happened. The man would probably outlive us all.
Although I worked for and was loyal to the Moretti family, Maximo and I had been good friends growing up. We were an unlikely duo—a Salvaggio and Marchioni, bound not by blood or duty, but friendship. They said in our business you didn’t really have friends, just allies and enemies. But Maximo was different.
I greeted the maid, who let me in and walked up the staircase. I didn’t need to be shown the way; every dark wooden panel andornate fresco in this opulent mansion was as familiar to me as the scars on my own hands.
