"Later husband." She turned her back to me, and I groaned. This woman would be the death of me, and I'd die grateful.
CHAPTER 16
NICO
Standingat the edge of my bed, I gazed at the woman lying in it. Twenty-four hours ago, she'd been someone else; now, she was the wife of one of the most powerful men in the country, and she looked like an angel. Her dark hair spread across the pillow like silk, one hand curled under her cheek, the other resting on the spot where I had been. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across her skin. Buttoning up my shirt, I exited my room, leaving her to sleep. She was the first woman I'd allowed into my private residence, and she would be the only one.
"Good morning, Mr. Venosa." My cook smiled as she set the plate of breakfast in front of me. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the kitchen.
"Morning, Camilla. Thank you."
"Will your new bride be joining you this morning?" She beamed and waited for my answer, her eyes twinkling with barely concealed excitement.
"She was sound asleep when I left her in the room, so I doubt it." I smiled as I looked at Camilla. It wouldn't surprise me if she slept until noon after last night. We'd barely slept at all, andwhen we had, she'd been curled against me, her breath warm on my chest.
"It was a busy day yesterday; she no doubt needs her rest." Camilla smiled and looked at me with an arch of her brow before she turned back to the stove. She was an older woman who had been here since I was a boy. She was like a second mother to me after all these years. She saw everything that happened in this home, and never spoke a word about it.
"Yes, it was," I said as I looked back at the breakfast before me. Reaching for the paper, I unfolded it and stared at a wedding photo of Emilia and me. Of course, this was front-page news, and of course, it was an unsolicited photo. Calling the head of the newspaper would be the first thing I did this morning. The headline read"Venosa-Carminatti Union: Power Shift in Chicago Underworld.”
"Has my family woken up yet?"
"The only ones that are still here are your mother and sister. All the others had early flights." She smiled at me because she knew I'd booked all the flights and made sure they were as early as I could make them, so they'd be out of my house.
"Ah, Mrs. Venosa, good morning. What can I get you for breakfast?" Camilla's words floated through the air like a song. I watched Camilla's face briefly fall, and her eyes flit to me. Shaking my head slightly, her pleasant demeanour had returned. Lowering the paper, I saw my wife standing across from me wearing one of my shirts. She'd buttoned it all the way except the top two, which, when she turned, gave me a glimpse of the curve of her breast. Her hair was still damp from a shower, hanging in waves down her back.
"Do you have more of what Mr. Venosa is eating? It looks delicious." She leaned over the table, surveying what was on my plate. Emilia smiled at my cook, and I watched her eyes grow large when Camilla set a plate before her. "Thank you so much."She said, sitting down beside me. My shirt rode up, I saw her toned thigh, and an ache grew in me to touch her again. To slide my hand up that smooth skin.
"I must run home; I think I left my stove on." Camilla patted my shoulder as she left, giving us privacy.
"Where does she live?" Emilia asked as she took a bite of her breakfast.
"This compound sits on six hundred and forty acres, and all the staff who work for me live on this property. It's fully protected, and I'm able to keep people close but not in my home." I returned my gaze to the newspaper but didn't comprehend anything I was reading. All I could focus on was her sitting beside me, the scent of my soap on her skin.
"I'm impressed that you're able to house your employees. It gives an added level of security and trust." The direction of her voice turned, and I looked around the edge of the news.
"Why are you wearing my shirt?"
"It was the first thing I saw when I walked into the closet, except for the black dress from last night, and I was pretty sure you didn't want me wandering through your home trying to find someone to zip it up." She reached for her coffee and took a sip. I watched her close her eyes and enjoy that mouthful, as if she were making love to it. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
"No, I definitely don't want that. I will have all your belongings moved over to our room today. We need to discuss a few things." Folding the paper, I grabbed my coffee and waited.
"Would you like to do that here or in your office?" She asked, pushing her plate away. It was empty, and I wondered if she had inhaled her food. "I was starving, between my nerves yesterday morning and being interrupted while at dinner yesterday, all I had to eat was the cake last night."
"From now on, you eat, if we are out at a function and you're being interrupted, I want you to let me know." She nodded andlooked down at the cup in her hands. Getting off the stool I was on, I grabbed the coffee pot and topped her up, before doing the same to mine. "Now, expectations for this marriage. I won't pretend that we're in love, but we must portray that when in public. We make appearances together, you will serve on boards for charities we support, and we will have to hold a few dinner parties." I watched her grimace and found it amusing.
"Do I get to have any expectations?"
"Of course." This was not how I'd planned this conversation to go, but I shouldn't have been surprised. If I'd learned nothing else about my bride, I knew she was headstrong and had a mind of her own.
"If I say no, you have to respect that, I'm not a plaything, I'm your wife."
"Agreed."
"I won't tolerate you entertaining your mistresses under this roof." She sat a little straighter on the stool, squared her shoulders and sounded much more confident than she looked as she avoided eye contact with me.
Reaching out, I gently put my hand on hers. A thrill of electricity ran through me. I liked touching my wife, and I wanted to do it more often. "There will never be a mistress in this house." It wasn't a lie; there wouldn't be, ever. I watched her eyes close briefly. "There won't be any in this house, or anywhere else, Emilia. I might be a lot of things, but an adulterer isn't one of them. Why is this so important to you?"
She picked up her mug of coffee and took a sip before looking back at me. "My father routinely does it to my mother, and I can't imagine anything more humiliating for a wife than to see her husband parading through her home with the side piece he brought home the night before." Her eyes were sad, and I couldn't help but move my hand to rest on her cheek.
