"Yes," she gasps, sliding her fingers into my hair and pulling me closer to her chest as I move to suckle on the other pink nipple. "Traditions are everything."
“Then it’s only right we respect them.”
Chapter Five
Sofia
Everything hurts.
In a good way. In the best way.
I stretch my arms over my head like a kitten, yawning as I slowly turn to glance at the man sleeping next to me, but the spot is empty. I frown when I reach out to touch the sheets, surprised when I find them cold. The bedside clock tells me it's only nine, but that's early considering it was six a.m. when I fell asleep after my husband finally let me rest, body sweaty and sore.
Shit, maybe I should have listened to my husband when he warned me that I would be sore if we didn't take a break. But something about that large, tanned, tattooed, muscled body made it hard to think about the consequences of my actions.
I wanted him.
Still do, I realize. For different reasons this time. A part of me was hoping to wake up with my husband in bed with me. Especially after the night we both had. A little needy, perhaps, but I thought I would wake up in the arms of the man I promised my love to less than twenty-four hours ago. I try to comfort myself with the thought that maybe he left early to grab something.
He’ll be back soon.
With another yawn, I slip out of bed, wincing at the soreness between my thighs. I drag my feet into my bathroom to clean up, taking a long shower and grooming myself in hopes that Matteo will see me at my best when he returns.
I push down the little voice in the back of my head mocking me for trying to please a man I barely know, let alone like, but since I am going to spend the rest of my life with him, I figure I should at least try. But maybe not too hard. Heaven knows I can’t afford to tease the man into taking me back to bed.
Christ, what was I thinking?
I’m still groggy when I leave the bathroom. I pick a pretty blue dress I designed for after the wedding, uncertain if Matteo has plans for the day, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready.
I’m almost done when the hotel room door opens, causing my heart to leap in my chest. I rush out of the bedroom and into the living room, expecting to see the man I married. Instead, I am met with the sight of a pretty dark-haired girl letting herself into the suite. She turns around and appears to be shocked by my presence but quickly shakes it off.
“You’re up!”
My brows furrow, and I wonder if she’s in the wrong room or perhaps this is some kind of dream. Who is this pretty girl, and where the hell is Matteo?
I cautiously step into the living room. “Hi?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she laughs, a light and airy sound that subconsciously tugs at my own lips. “You don’t have to look so confused. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Gabriella, but everyone calls me Gabby.”
Still confused, I lift my hand in a small wave, “Hi, Gabby.”
“I’m your new sister-in-law,” she beams.
Sister-in-law? I didn’t know the Rossis had a daughter. I met the brothers last night as they were the groomsmen. Huge guys with dark eyes but not this girl. Wait… that's not right. I did see her last evening, dancing with my father-in-law, Leonardo Rossi. “Sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced,” I say, dropping my guard a little. “I’m Sofia Marino.”
“Ah, Sofia Rossi now,” she laughs, closing the door behind her. “Matteo was needed at work, so he asked me to have breakfast with you.” I try to hide my disappointment at the thought that he won’t be coming back. “Your sisters and my brothers are helping move your things from your parents’ place and into his penthouse, so I thought we could have breakfast and get to know each other.”
She walks to the couch and sits before patting the spot next to her.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Sit,” she says with an eyeroll and an easy laugh. “I want to know everything about my brother’s wife. None of my brothers ever really date, so I don't get to chat with people my age a lot, and I’ve always wanted a sister. I’ve grown up surrounded by overbearing men."
She looks a little younger than me, but not by much. Still, I don’t say a word about it as I walk to sit on the spot next to her. “You don’t have friends?”
“I wish,” she sighs. “I have four very protective older brothers. No, six, if you include my stepbrothers. Any friends I make either want to flirt with my brothers or are terrified of them. There’s no in-between.”
Poor girl. “I have three sisters and two cousins who live with us. I'm sure they would love to get to know you."
