Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“You are who I want.” And then I did something I promised myself I was not going to do. With my grip on her chin, I pulled her in close, but I wasn’t rough with her. I was gentle, or as gentle as I could be when I was in control. I intended to just invade her space, to keep the upper hand, but one look at those plump, inviting lips, and I was a goner. Taking possession of her lips, I kissed her.
It had been a long time since I kissed a woman. I’m no saint, and over the years, I’ve used women for my own pleasure. There were always so many, so willing to line up to satisfy my cock. None of them appealed to me. Just scratching an itch. But I didn’t kiss them.
Alba was the first woman I’d kissed in a long time. One touch, and I knew I was addicted. This was dangerous, especially in enemy territory. I had everything in place in case it all went sour tonight. Only, I had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. Call it a hunch, but I knew what I was talking about.
Breaking from the kiss, I had made my choice. I let go of Alba and walked to the office door, opening it.
“The marriage happens tonight,” I said.
I already had everything in place, because there was only going to be one person I left the Marini house with.
Alice came in and gasped. “But that is not tradition.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck about you or your traditions?”
“Roberto, do something,” Alice said.
“The marriage is tonight. Don’t mistake this for anything other than the truce it is, otherwise, the consequences will be severe,” I said, looking from Alice to Roberto.
The marriage would happen tonight, but I would follow no tradition. When the time came for me to take my wife’s virginity, I would do it without an audience, and no one but me would ever see the evidence of her innocence.
Chapter Two
Alba
Three Weeks Later
One day, I would wake up, get changed, do all the regular things I was supposed to. Use the bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face, comb my hair. Move to my bedroom, change into the clothes of the day—usually something that hid my body. My parents were happy with me as long as I looked clean and casual.
The next part of my day would be breakfast, and then I’d head out to walk in the garden, because I wasn’t allowed to just randomly go walking. My freedom came at a cost of a soldier or guard, whichever they wanted to be called.
Most of my days were spent indoors. My sisters and I were homeschooled. We got a high school education from tutors. That was where our education stopped. Anything more was out of the question. We were to be wives. Mothers to the future generation. All we could do was stand around and look pretty, or as my father would say, “just stand around.”
My sisters got most of the attention at all the parties. I was happy with that. I loved my books. I lived and stayed sane through books. My dad didn’t seem to mind my obsession with books. It kept me out of trouble, whereas my other sister Chiara was harder to please. She often needed trips to the shops, and stuff like that. My sister liked to go shopping, and my older sister loved places like museums. Again, I enjoyed all of that, but I preferred to do it without the company of … complaints.
Again, this was my life three-plus weeks ago. The same day, over and over, on repeat.
Staring down at my wedding ring, all of that changed because of this one piece of jewelry. I was a married woman. No longer Alba Marini, but Alba Kemp. Wife to a crime lord. Wife to what many called a monster.
Not many people knew much about him. It was like he appeared out of thin air and came to this planet with the very intention of causing trouble. At least, that is the way it seemed, but I don’t think it was the truth. Far from it. There was more to him than met the eye.
These past three weeks had been so far out of anything I expected. So, my expectations, no matter how brief, were for me to be nothing more than a prisoner. My husband’s prisoner. I expected to be trapped in an apartment or a house, or even a damn cage.
The way the Serra Mafia talked, this man didn’t even know proper etiquette. That had not been my life. I was by his side every single minute of every single day. That first night, he took me aside and told me if I was loyal to him, and only to him, my life was about to get better. My father had slipped me a cell phone and told me he wanted to garner all my husband’s secrets.