Page 99 of Runaway in the Mafia
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My heart beat like a trapped bird.Kitni gadbad hai.I had messed it all up. He’d just made me so angry. He should have known. Not to push me around. I didn’t want that. I had had enough of that to last me a lifetime.
I didn’t want any of this. I wanted t—
But I wanted him.
No.
I didn’t want to want him.
No. I didn’t… I sighed. It was so damn exhausting. I wanted to go back. Go back to seven months ago. But then... something snagged in my chest. I would have never met him. Emotion choked in my throat. I couldn’t trade any of our memories.Couldn’t erase it from my mind. His soft glances, hot touches, dirty words. I wanted it all.
You know I always will.
You know you’re incredibly strong, right?
I didn’t want to replace any of it. Even the times he angered me with his lunacy. Especially those times. Because I’d rather have this marriage with fireworks than a dead-bolted one like I’d had with a prison guard. I buried my head in my hands.
You had to go and mess it up.
What a way to start my second marriage. The first one was a disaster, and it looked like this was sliding down the same path.
I didn’t even realise I was crying until the wetness pooled in my palms. My shoulders shook with emotion as I wept for a past that had traumatised me, but a future I wouldn’t have had, had it not been for it.
Minutes ticked while I sat there on the floor, then I decided I didn’t want him to find me like this. Didn’t want him to see me in tears. Not even him.
I removed my jewellery and pushed it away towards the wall. Then I pulled myself up and dropped my saree to the floor on the way to the shower. His bathroom was dark and moody. Black textured walls, dim orange lighting and black steel taps. It fit him perfectly, just like it did my mood. I flipped the tap open and walked into it.
I needed to set things right with him. My husband.
My husband.
I didn’t know how to manoeuvre on this new road. I was as lost as a baby bird trying to find its way in the new world.
I was still wracking my brains how I could warm up to him when he walked into the shower. His front brushed my back, and his palms clasped the wall, boxing me in. “You’re a fucking distraction. I was going to tear your saree,” he growled against my neck.
I didn’t even try to make sense of what he said.
He took the bottle of shampoo in his hands and squeezed it into my hair. Instead of rubbing it in, he slid it across and yanked my hair back to cock my head to his. His gaze narrowed at my red-rimmed eyes. “If you want to bring the milk, you can do it later. You want an Indian wedding? We’ll do it. You want a traditional first night? I’ll give it to you. But we aren’t going to be the couple to follow traditions. If you want, you can have this as the first night, I’m going to fuck you ten times sideways. That’s going to be our new tradition,capisci?”
And I don’t know why. If it had anything to do with the raw honesty in his words or the deep sadness whirling in his eyes, I found myself agreeing to building new traditions.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
AHANA
He was right, of course. The only marriage I knew was my previous one to Rajesh. The first week of it involved zero sex and plenty of family visits. It was like Vitale knew all about it and was determined to cartwheel it. We had plenty of sex and zero family visits.
He kept me inside the house, and no one visited us. He didn’t go out to work, and he demanded that I take time off. Instead, he buried himself inside me. It was like he was determined to keep me occupied. Not that I had anything to complain about. He took me on every surface he could find. On the marble floor, held up against the wooden staircase railing, against the glass windows in his spacious living room, on my knees on the black oak dining table. One time, he’d eaten me on top of his vintage office desk, while on a Zoom call with his brother-in-law. Audio, but still, when I said the man was a lunatic, there was no exaggeration on my part. But what did it make me? That I’d come on his desk while biting into his palm. For my sake, Ihoped Lorenzo had been too distracted to notice anything out of sorts.
It was an obsession. Like any obsession, this was downright detrimental. It was going to kill us if we kept at it. My body ached. In a rough, tender, passionate, harsh, can’t walk in a straight line kind of way. He pounded into me like he wanted to imprint on me.
There was a darkness edging his possessiveness. I felt it in his grip. Saw it in the glint of his eyes when he followed me. It should have filled me with fear. Rajesh’s obsession had nearly ended my life. But Vitale’s… there was something rich and addictive to it. It made me feel desired. Made me melt like hot wax every time he touched me. He told me he hated people in his house. He told me he hated the light streaming in. But he allowed me to be and let me open up all his beautiful curtains and let the sunlight in. It made me feel powerful. Like I was vital to him. Made me wrap around him like a koala bear when he held me. No man had ever wanted me like this. Like I was a necessity. The only thing keeping him alive. Like all he needed was me, to survive another day.
On the fifth day of our marriage, breakfast had been served. It included me, wearing his shirt, spread out over the length of his kitchen counter and his face buried between my trembling thighs. He took my clit and sucked it in. Somewhere in my hazy vision, annoyance vibrated. He ignored it. I slipped down further and smoothed his head to my core. I was close. The vibration stopped. And restarted.
“Fucking hell.” He pushed off me, his glare angry. Entitled. Like I had called him. I frowned. If only his arrogance were a climax kill. Then I wouldn’t be so deep in this mess. He yanked his phone out of his pocket, looked at it, and let out a stream of Italian before stalking off. I heard him yell in the hallway. His rude tone needed no imagination to be decoded.
