I chuckle as I lead her out to the dance floor, waiting excitedly for the moment she realizes I changed the playlist. I pull her into my arms when the song starts, and her head jerks up as her eyes narrow on me. “This isn’t ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ by Bon Jovi.” Her arms glide around my shoulders, and she subtly digs her nails into the base of my neck as we start to move.
“That’s such an odd choice for a wedding, don’t you think?” I arch a brow, stifling my laughter.
“And ‘Killer Queen’ isn’t?”
“At least it’s apt.” I level her with a pointed look.
“I might just prove your point tonight, darling husband,” she says, emitting a little gasp as I spin her out and reel her back in. “And this is a shit song to dance to.”
“Who cares?” I twirl her around again, enamored with the growing rage glimmering in her eyes. She truly is a magnificent creature. A complete conundrum. All hellfire and prickly ice. She’s a puzzle I can’t wait to solve. I know I’ll have fun getting there. “It’s Queen. They are legends, and I think it’s the perfect song choice for my bloodthirsty wife.”
“I swear you want me to stab you” she says, as I dip her down low again. “Do not even think about kissing me!”
Ignoring her request, I yank her back up into my arms and slam my lips down on hers. She’s seething. Her entire body is trembling with rage as I discreetly nudge her stomach with my growing erection while I angle my head and kiss the living daylights out of her. She can’t do anything but go along with this.
Catarina understands the way this game is played. Everyone here may know this is an arranged marriage, but that doesn’t mean they don’t expect a show. Catarina is smart enough to know it’s bad business not to appear happy about the deal. It’s why she’s kept a mask on her pretty face all day. She wants everyone to see she is pleased with the arrangement and fully cooperating even if she knows it satisfies the other made men to believe she is now beholden to a man.
They mistakenly think I can keep her in line.
I already known I can’t, and truthfully, why would I want to?
Doesn’t mean I can’t manipulate her and blackmail her into doing certain things my way. I’m already messing with her head, and I fully intend to find out exactly what my beloved is up to.
Catarina kisses me back with brutal kisses she intends to be punishing, but I’m living for them and the feel of her sexy body underneath my hands. She sucks my lower lip into her mouth before sinking her teeth into the flesh and drawing blood. Using the opportunity, I plunder her mouth with my tongue while grabbing her ass and pressing her hot, tight body against my throbbing hard-on. I’m devouring her in plain sight, in a way that is not customary at weddings, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck. She has me all worked up, and I don’t back down from a challenge.
Around us, the crowd whoops and hollers as we fight one another through savage kisses and dueling tongues. Eventually, she pulls back, spitting fire from her eyes as her chest heaves and she wrangles her breathing under control.
“Keep fighting me,mia amata. I told you it only turns me the fuck on.”
My shoulder is bumped from behind as Renzo walks around me, extending his arm toward my bride. “Dance with me, Donna Conti?”
Before she can take his hand, I grab his shirt, dragging his face up into mine as I press my gun into his stomach. “Disrespect me again, and you won’t live to take another breath.”
The crowd quiets around us, save for the clicking of shoes as someone approaches. “Put your gun away, Massimo,” Bennett Mazzone says. “There are women and teenagers here.”
“I will back down when he agrees to show me some goddamned respect at my own wedding.”
“Put the gun away, Massimo,” Catarina says, walking around Renzo to my side. Her eyes penetrate mine with a silent plea to trust her. I keep my gaze glued to Renzo Dutti as I shove my weapon behind my back in the waistband of my pants. She levels a look at her underboss as she circles her arm around my back. “You need to apologize to my husband.”
My arm goes around her shoulder, and I tuck her in close as I wait for the asshole to eat humble pie.
A muscle clenches in his jaw as he grits out, “I apologize, Massimo. I was out of line.”
“You were, and it’s Mr. Greco to you.”
He nods, shifting uneasily on his feet.
“My wife will be addressed as Mrs. Greco or Donna Greco. Do you understand?”
If looks could kill, I’d be ten feet under with the expression on his face.
“Ren.” Catarina’s cautionary tone urges him to get with the program.
“I understand, Mr. Greco.” His jaw pulls taut as he glances at my wife. He wants to dance with her, but he can fuck off now and slink back into whatever slimy hole he crawled out of.
Bennett steps in to smooth things over. “If I may be permitted to dance with the bride, nothing would please me more.”
I nod at Don Mazzone, appreciative of the calm resolution he brings to every situation. Filling his shoes will not be easy, but I’m determined to be an even greater president, and to push things even farther than he has.
