She shook her head vehemently. ‘Absolutely not. I want to lick the victory and hard work off your hot body.’
What man could argue with that? What sane man tried?
Five minutes was all I needed to recover after I’d come down her throat, and she’d swallowed every drop with a vixen’s gleam in her eyes.
Then I put her on her knees, poured more champagne down her arched back and watched it drench her pussy as I rammed her to a screaming climax.
‘I can’t wait to make you my wife,’ I said afterwards in the shower.
‘I can’t wait to be yours,’ she replied, her arms sliding around my neck.
And if that knot in my belly continued to grow? No one needed to know.
Yet.
Maddelena
In less than an hour I would no longer be a Mancinelli. I would be swapping one volatile heritage for another. And yet I couldn’t be happier.
The only fly in the ointment was the marked absence of my family. In anticipation of that, Cesare and I had agreed to ditch the tradition of designating family areas in the chapel.
Salvatores occupied pews on both sides of the beautifully decorated chapel, with honoured guests spread out behind them.
Three hundred of Orazio’s nearest and dearest had cleaned out Tom Ford, Brioni, Valentino and Prada.
I was walking down the aisle on my own.
There’d been a few minutes of tension last night when Orazio had announced he would like to do the honours. As much as I’d craved the support, my suspicion that he was doing it more to fuck with Bonafacio than with my needs in mind had firmed my refusal.
His thunderous glare had quaked my insides for a full minute before he’d backed down. Cesare’s gruff ‘Brava, bedda’ a moment later when Orazio turned away had warmed me up very quickly.
As had Bibiana Salvatore’s unexpected visit ten minutes ago.
She’d arrived just after I’d been helped into my wedding dress, looking effortlessly stunning and elegant in a Dolce & Gabbana gold satin sheath overlayed with silver tulle as she held out a large black jewellery box.
At my wary look, she’d done that half-smile thing I was realising was a family trait. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not the family jewels. It was just delivered for you.’
The hard ball of tension lingered as she’d dismissed my attendants with a jerk of her head. Door shut, she’d blatantly stood there in my bedroom as I opened the box.
To find an exquisite pair of antique chandelier diamond earrings. And a handwritten note from my mother.
This was always meant to be yours,figghia. It wasn’t how I wished to present it to you but yournonnaand I would be honoured if you wore it today. I will pray for you.Ti vogghiu beni.Mama. X
Bibiana’s eyes had softened a little as I dashed away tears, her arms folded as she watched me. ‘I’m glad you said no to Orazio.’
‘You are?’
‘You’ve drawn a hell of a line by changing lanes to this side of the war zone. Buckling under the thumb of the men in this family now will only set you back. I suggest you go on as you’ve started.’
‘Noted. Thanks.’
She’d nodded, then cast my wedding dress a beleaguered little look, reminding me that she had a murky past with another crime family.
‘Good luck. I hope you won’t need it,’ she’d murmured.
Before I could think up an appropriate response, she was gone and my attendants were back, buzzing around me like overexcited bees, muttering about being late to church.
I was fifteen minutes late on account of reading my mother’s note for a second time with a fuller heart and more tears, and needing my make-up touched up.
