“Open your pretty eyes, Caterina, and breathe.”
As I stood there unarmed and trembling in the corner of his bedroom, I expected the worst.
Instead, he’d surprised me by walking away.
I know he doesn’t fear me, not even with my knife. He made that painfully clear. But the fact that he’s in there whistling and preparing to do something so normal as showering seems to unravel the knot of nerves his sudden entrance and initial words produced.And he thinks my eyes are pretty.Curiosity wins out over caution.
I’ve seen him naked before but what a sight he is, the shower door hiding nothing from my view. His sculpted body may bear the marks of his evil calling along with the tattoos and piercings. Yet, it’s beautiful to my eyes, lean and lethal, muscular and male. Even the Grim Reaper tattoo with its dire truth gives me a twisted thrill.
Whether I was asking an embarrassing question or feeling guilty for laughing, Alessio never once made me feel as though I’d done something wrong. All my life, there’s been expectations for my behavior and limitations on what I may do or where I may go. I’m not foolish enough to believe much will change but might there also be moments where I can finally experience a shred of freedom as a married woman versus a Capo’s daughter?
It’s truehedidn’t say all the awful words I heard that day though he did mention revenge. But, what if there’s some small part of Alessio that doesn’t wish to hurt me for being Nico’s sister? What if under the hard exterior, there’s a heart that I could work my way into one tiny corner of? Drawing a deep breath, I find the courage to reach for that chance.
“Alessio, can you help me out of my dress?”
He drops his soap, and my cheeks are on fire but, after presenting me with the appealing view of his backside, he shuts off the water. His blue eyes are locked on mine as he opens the door. Steam floats toward me. It’s warm and sticky and makes me long to wash the dried blood off of my cheek. He invited me to join him. There is a small but daring part of me that now wishes I had.
He steps out of the shower and grabs his towel but only dries his face. Droplets of water bead up and roll down his muscled forearms, chest and abdomen. One particularly large drop hangs off the tip of his erect penis. God, he’s a monster and not just in the way I’ve always believed.
I avert my eyes, wanting to hang onto that courage I found a moment ago. I turn and grasp the marble vanity to steady myself, refusing to look in the mirror as he moves closer behind me. Something touches the top of my head and my eyes pop back open. He’s resting his chin there and there’s dark mischief dancing in his eyes. “I will help you, but there are far too many buttons.”
My lips twitch… until he opens a drawer beside me and pulls out a large carving knife. Who keeps such a blade in their bathroom? My breath catches, and I attempt to shrink into a ball, but his free hand grips my waist. “I’m not going to cut you,” he murmurs against my cheek. “Only the dress.”
I feel a momentary pang of loss when he starts to slice his way through the lace and silk but, considering what happened at the reception, why would I want to hang onto a garment stained with such violent memories?
Carefully, Alessio works, taking his time to ensure my skin never feels the bite of his blade. When the fabric slips from my shoulders to pool at my feet, I feel lighter, as though a burden has been lifted. He helps me step out of it. “Your skin is flawless,” he husks, his lips so close to my ear that it’s impossible to think clearly.
“No, I have some freckles and there’s a-”
“Flawless,” he repeats, more intently. “And soft.” His right hand still holds the knife, but he rubs the back of it along my shoulder and down my arm, keeping the blade away from my flesh and sending tingles all through me with his touch. It’s an oddly erotic sight in the mirror with his blue eyes boring into mine. A knot begins to form inside me once more, but it’s not a knot of nerves in my belly this time. It’s a more welcome one and located somewhere lower.
I watch his eyes drop down my back and my embarrassment returns. My corset covers my breasts but my panties… I forgot about the panties. White lace trim reveals most of my butt cheeks, and there’s a keyhole cut-out above my freshly waxed mound. White satin ties at the hips are designed for a groom to ‘unwrap his bride.’
“A gift for me, wife?” I can see him smirking over my shoulder in the reflection.
“They were a shower gift from my Aunt Celia.” When I was getting dressed this morning, my mother claimed they were the only pair she’d packed with my wedding clothes.
“I may write my first ever thank-you note to your Aunt Celia,” he says, lightly tugging at the ties on one hip.
“Alessio… Don’t,” I protest, all my courage fleeing in the face of the unknown.
“You know what’s expected tonight, don’t you? You realize our fathers will want to see the sheets in the morning, proof of a marriage pact fulfilled.” My stomach churns with dread and mortification. “Will you deny the old devils their due?”
I glare at his reflection. “My body isn’t just a settlement between our fathers.”
Grim satisfaction fills his expression. “True. But, will you denyme, Caterina?”
If he forces me tonight, I don’t believe I could ever truly forgive that no matter how many years our marriage lasts. But if he gives me a choice? My heart flutters with hope. I know how easily it could be won with some kindness and consideration. I’ve read too many happy endings not to want one of my own. “Are you saying I could deny you if I wanted to? Are you saying you will not force me to have sex with you tonight if I don’t want it?”
The mischief, the smirk, the hint of playfulness; it all vanishes in an instant. I’m only met with a hard stare. “If that is your choice, so be it. I wanted to kill a Morelli earlier. Fucking his whiny virgin sister would be a poor substitute. Not my idea of fun.”
He draws away from me, his cutting words wounding me more than I would’ve expected. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he starts to leave the bathroom, only looking back once more to say, “Take a shower. You need it.”
13
Caterina
The mixture of rejection and vulnerability I feel during the shower is weighing me down after a stressful day and an anxious two years, but I refuse to let it show when I step out of the bathroom dressed in pajamas. Screw Aunt Celia’s other shower gift, the slinky nightgown to match the horrible panties.
