Page 35 of The Mafia's Bride
A sense of pride fills my chest.
A ferocious woman, she’ll do good in the De Luca family.
“Then get me a loner.” I stand, grabbing my gloves. “And put in an order of red roses to deliver to Ace’s home. Addressed to my future wife.”
Sloane will hate it and that’s what I’m planning on.
Let her throw everything at me and see, at the end of the day, I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.
And neither is she.
“Flowers?” Tony’s face contorts in confusion, cell up to his ear. “You want to send her flowers? For that?”
I smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course. Not many people can get past my security, fuck with my car, and then walk away.” The confidence alone deserved a trophy. “She deserves a reward for the bravery to do it.”
Tony rolls his dark eyes skyward. “Great. You’re just as fucking insane as she is.”
I scoff, slapping his cheek lightly. “I don’t care how much is between us, Tony. Don’t ever insult my wife.”
Grabbing the handle, I look back at him. “Make sure they’re red. I want them delivered tomorrow morning first thing.” I want her to know I saw everything - and that, I’m still here.
“Anything on the card?”
I turn, ripping one of the payroll papers and quickly scrawl out a message. Tony shakes his head but wisely keeps his comments to himself.
Smiling, I tap his cheek again, this time showing him affection the only way my family has ever done. “Tomorrow morning.”
“On it, boss.”
15
SLOANE
Ihad seven days of freedom before I found myself standing in a church, the roar of a crowd outside the double doors hovering just on the edge of obscene. There must be tons of people out there, all ready to see me marry Alessio De Luca.
I thought destroying his car would be the last straw before this marriage. I thought it couldn’t hurt, taking one last dig to break this arrangement.
But then he sent meflowers.
Why would he send me flowers? Why wasn’t there a torn-up contract, or a bill for the damages on my doorstep?
I expected a reaction, maybe even a violent one. Pops always had a reaction when I stepped too far out of line. My cheek still stings from the repeated slaps.
This man isn’t like other men in this world. He’s not like Pops. He’s different.Confusing.
I don’t want to be confused by him. I want to be out of this arrangement, out of this contract. Away from him.
Easier said than done. Especially with how drawn to him I am. How I constantly want to fight him, defy him, see how far I can push him.
Because he’s still here. He still wants me.
I glare at the card on the vanity, like it’s the card’s fault.
I can’t believe he sent me flowers to commemorate me busting up his car.
Next time you want to be on camera, I’ll be sure to make it a private audience. I would love to record you when you’re screaming my name.
I have his message memorized. The fuckingaudacityof this man, to flirt, to say such things after what I did. Was he a masochist?
