My fingers curl into his shirt, holding him close. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
Panic swirls inside me at the thought of sleeping without him by my side. He’s been there every night when that man’s voice haunts my nightmares, and I wake up coated in sweat and shaking, or sometimes even screaming.
“Since we’re already married and are just renewing our vows tomorrow, that superstition of not seeing the bride before the wedding doesn’t stand,” I argue.
Something passes over his face again; it’s not exactly panic, but other than describing it as dark, I can’t pinpoint it exactly. He smiles down at me. “Superstition wouldn’t keep me away from you, anyway.”
Shyness falls over me as I stare up at him, feeling his body under my hands and pressed between my thighs. Since that day two weeks ago when he gave me those toe-curling, breath-stealing orgasms, we’ve gotten acquainted—or I should say, re-acquainted—with each other. But each night, even though he insists I sleep naked, he wears his boxer briefs and a T-shirt, refusing to show his full naked self to me yet.
Almost like he’s my gift that I get to fully unwrap after we renew our vows. It’s been both heaven and hell. I want to feel and see all of him, just as he has with me, but I also appreciate that he hasn’t pushed me.
But I’m ready. I’m done with waiting. And I can hardly breathe thinking of him being inside me tomorrow night.
As if he can read my mind, his eyes darken, and he pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Tomorrow, you’re legally and fully mine, Gina.”
It almost sounds like a warning, but I don’t heed it. I shiver and shift closer.
“And I can’t wait.”
“You took the test?”
The ovulation kit. We’ve spoken at length about the children we want to have. I’m young, but even though I can’t remember it, I know that I’ve always wanted to be a mother. And I don’t want to wait.
“It was positive, so I should be ovulating within the next day or two.”
His eyes darken further, and he presses into me. I can feel how hard he is, and I shiver, imagining finally seeing that big bulge tomorrow. Touching him. Tasting him.
“The perfect window for me to fuck a baby into you,” he growls.
My mouth parts in shock—and with lust. Because that statement, coming from him is setting my skin on fire.
I squirm, feeling need bloom within me. “Yes. The perfect window for you to fuck a baby into me,” I say breathlessly.
He cups my head. “And no one…no one,” he repeats fiercely, “can ever take you from me.”
His mouth crashes to mine, and with a whimper, all questions about his claim or thoughts of any kind are banished.
Chapter 22
Tommaso
Imaybedestinedfor hell, but I’ll go with a smile on my face.
Fuck. Me. She’s absolutelystunning.
Her dark, wavy hair loose, and her luminous, dark brown eyes locked on me. Her pouty, full lips pulled into a soft smile. Her hourglass figure in that white silk strapless dress. It’s simple elegance. Just like her.
My wife.
She may not truly be my wife at this moment, and this isn’t a ceremony for us to renew our vows so she can remember them. I lied to her; I’ve been lying to her for six weeks since she woke up with no memory. And I’ll keep lying to her for as long as I have to. Because she is, in fact, mine, and no one will take her from me.
Not even Vincenzo fucking Pisani.
Emanuele had died from complications from his heart, and Vincenzo is now Don, heading up the ‘Ndrangheta. When he called me, asking to put feelers out for where Gina had disappeared to, I had somehow forced every emotion down,keeping my unreadable, stoic mask in place to inquire why. He wouldn’t say, only that he needed to find her.
When I said no one had seen any of the Caruso family—keeping it to myself that I knew Guila was dead, most likely by her husband’s hand—he played innocent and dumb. I wasn’t sure if he was working with Caruso, or why exactly he wanted to find Gina. In the end, it didn’t matter because neither him or Caruso would ever lay a finger on her. If I had my way, they would never lay eyes on her again.
To say that things in my life are risky as hell and tumultuous lately is putting it mildly. It isn’t just everything with Gina and all the concerns about keeping her safe while helping her heal and recover. It’s holding my territory and dealing with the escalating tension among the city’s five strongest factions, which is a challenge when I’m trying to do as much as possible from home. This isn’t a sustainable long-term option, especially not since word has gotten back to my father about my change in work habits, and he’s starting to ask questions—along with pressuring me to accelerate the timeline to marry Rosa Altera.
