Mafia Crown: Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance, page 22
"Do you?" he asks, a strange look in his eyes. "Do you really get me?"
"Not completely," I search his features, "but maybe, I am a step closer to getting to know you better."
He holds my gaze and the tension between us ratchets up. He wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck and I shiver. He leans in close enough for our eyelashes to mingle. This close, I can see the specks of silver in his eyes. Then his nose bumps mine and his mouth is on mine. He kisses me deeply, thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and robs me of my breath completely. He hauls me closer, grips my hip, slides his palm across my butt and squeezes my ass as he continues to ravish my mouth. He glides his fingers in between my legs and pushes my panties aside. I gasp, then huff when he thrusts his fingers inside my slippery channel. He weaves his fingers in and out of me and I wriggle under his ministrations.
Heat explodes in my lower belly and I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. He continues to cram his fingers in and out of me. Each time he hits that spot right in the center of me, goosebumps pop on my skin. I strain toward him, even as I try to get away from him, but he doesn’t give up. He speeds up his actions as he continues to kiss me, with his eyes open, holding my gaze, as he grinds the heel of his hand into my clit, and with his other hand, pinches my nipple.
He adds another finger inside me, stretching me, filling me, then releases my nipple only to pinch down on my clit. A trembling grips me. That's when he tears his mouth from mine and pulls his fingers out of me. He holds my fingers to my mouth as I gasp.
"Lick me clean," he orders. And I can’t help it. I have to do as he commands. So, I open my mouth and when he shoves his fingers inside my mouth, I drag my tongue around his digits. He pulls them out, then wipes them on my naked chest. Then, he pulls me off his lap and places me on my feet. He stands up and guides me over to where I had dropped my T-shirt. He tugs it over my head, ensuring I thread my arms through the sleeves before he straightens the hem.
"Why didn’t you let me come?" I hiss. "Why the hell didn’t you let me climax?"
"Just because I told you my life story, doesn’t mean I am going to go easy on you."
I shake my hair back from my face. "You’re a sadist."
He laughs, "You’re right. You’re beginning to understand me now."
I pull away from him and he lets me. I march up to my room, pull on my jeans, grab my phone and bag and march downstairs. By the time I reach the bottom of the steps, I’ve dialed Seb’s number. Except, Axel grabs my phone and switches off the call. "I’ll drive you home."
33
Axel
I tuck my button-down shirt into the waistband of my dark jeans. Hey, at least they are dark in color—my one concession to getting married in church. Church? I am getting married in church, in front of a minister and everything. Jesus H. Christ. Nope, the irony is not lost on me. I am swearing, using the name of the Lord, while I am bemoaning the fact that I am going to take my marriage vows in front of Him. What a bloody farce. I reach for my jacket and shrug it on. My fingers itch and I grab up my lighter and flick the flame on and off. On and off. I stare at the flame, the hottest part of which is right above the tip of the flame. The yellow heart of it is where it’s the least hot. Strange, right?
You’d expect the innermost part of the flame to be the most lethal, yet it’s the coldest. It’s what I have in common with fire. My heart will not burn for her. Whatever happens to me, affects me on the surface but never penetrates the inner core of me. And that’s good. It’s the only way I can stick to the plan. The only way I can see this through to the end without my emotions messing everything up.
I straighten my cuffs when the door opens. Nonna steps inside the room. She’s wearing a blue dress that flows to her ankles. The pearl-accented stilettos she’s wearing add height to her already upright posture. I stiffen and watch as she walks over to stand next to me. "Axel," she murmurs, "I hope I am not interrupting?"
"And if I told you you were?"
"It wouldn’t make a difference." Her lips kick up.
"That’s what I thought." I chuckle. "Why don’t you have a seat?"
She turns to face me, "This won’t take long."
I lower my chin and survey her from my greater height. Her silver hair is coiffed perfectly, her make-up is flawless, and the lines on her face only add gravitas to her presence. She regards me with her faded blue eyes, no doubt, taking stock of me as I do the same to her.
"You’re so handsome," she reaches up and pats my cheek, "nipotino mio."
"Which means—?"
"An affectionate term for grandson."
"Right," I shuffle my feet.
"I take it, terms of endearment make you uncomfortable."
"No," I shake my shoulder, "it’s just not what I am used to."
"You are part of the famiglia now, and we can be quite expressive."
"You don’t say." I wince.
"You sound so English," she chuckles. "And yet, when I look at you, all I can see—"
"Don’t say Xander," I snap.
"I was going to say, my husband."
"Oh?"
"He was very like you. Not at ease with overt emotions. He also hated formal wear. In fact, for our wedding, he wore a button-down and a pair of jeans like yours. Unlike you, he also refused to wear a jacket. Of course, it was in the summer so he could get away with it."
I stare at her steadily, "Why are you here, Nonna?"
She reaches up and brushes imaginary dust off my shoulder. "I thought I saw a little of him in all my grandsons, but when I saw you, I knew it was you who is closest in nature to him."
"Is that right?" I murmur.
She nods, "Your force of will, your focus, how you recovered from being hit and focused on getting back on your feet, how you never let being hurt get in the way of everything you want to achieve."
"And what is it that I want to achieve?"
"Trust, of course." She straightens the lapel of my jacket. "In only a few weeks, you had Michael give you a seat at the negotiating table, something he hasn’t shared with any of his other brothers. And yet, none of the others openly protested against him."
"Luca did."
She smirks. "That doesn’t count. It was expected that Luca would; he’s the hot-headed one."
"He’s also the one person who I haven’t been able to get close to," I admit.
"But the others seem to be impressed by what they have seen of you. Enough to rally behind you for this wedding. They loved Xander and regarded Theresa as the sister they never had. They didn’t protest when Theresa decided to marry you. It’s interesting that the proposal came from her, don’t you think?"
"I am not sure what you are trying to imply?"
"You swept her off her feet with such speed that she didn’t have a choice but to find a way to bind you to her."
"Are you saying that I forced her to propose to me?" I laugh.
"I am saying that she fell head over heels in love with you. You gave her what Xander never could. You were the face of the man she could never have with the heart of a man she shouldn’t have."
"I am not sure what you are saying," I cross my forearms over my chest, letting my biceps bulge.
"What I am trying to say is that I know you don’t love her, and if you hurt her in any way, I will make sure that you regret ever returning to the family. Not that I think you will, of course."
"Of course," I tilt my head, "I appreciate your watching out for Theresa, but I think you underestimate her."
"Eh?"
"She may be tiny, but underneath that fragility is a backbone, a strength that will ensure that she always stands up for herself, that she’ll never let anyone walk all over her. Least of all, me. She is a survivor, Theresa is, and I plan to make sure that nothing ever takes that indomitable spirit away from her."
Nonna stares at me as if taken aback by my words, then a wide smile splits her face. I blink because now she looks beautiful, like the picture of what a mother should be. The mother I never had. Oh, don’t get me wrong. My own tried her best to protect me, but even as a child, I was aware that she always fell short of making the right decisions. I was too young to ever steer her back on track, so could only watch as she imploded her own life. If I’d had a Nonna in my life, it might have turned out so very differently.
"Lean down, boy," she commands.
"What?"
"Lean down." She scowls at me, "How else and I supposed to kiss your cheek?"
34
Axel
I stare straight ahead past the priest, at the beautiful stained-glass window that soars above us. The light from the sun pours through the pane, illuminating the yellows and blues and splintering into the colors of the rainbow which fill the space.
"You okay?" Seb’s low voice sounds next to me.
I’m not, but I will be. "Yeah," I nod without turning to glance at him.
"It’s okay to be nervous," this from Massimo who flanks my other side.
Yep, the Sovranos had turned out in full force to support me on the day of reckoning, aka, my wedding. My bloody wedding, in a bloody church
My ma had insisted on going to Mass every Sunday. She may have tried to leave her Mafia roots behind, but her faith in the One Above had never been shaken. It’s why, after she died, I never went back. What was the use of believing in God when he had basically decided that your life was going to be a shit show and no matter how much you prayed, it was going to stay a shit show? What explanation could there be for how my mother’s life had turned out? When I had dared to point that out to her, she had cuffed me on the head and told me never to repeat those blasphemous words again. So instead, I have decided to enter this marriage under false pretenses and have the lie blessed by Him. Well, why not? I’ve committed enough crimes, so what’s adding one more to the mix, eh?
"Axel," Massimo’s voice prompts me, "you sure you’re okay?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I run a finger around the collar of my button-down shirt. At least I hadn't been guilted into wearing a tie. I blow out a breath, then roll my neck, trying to work out some of the tension in my shoulders.
"It will be over all too soon," Seb reassures me.
"Then all you have to do is contend with the ol’ ball and chain for the rest of your life," Luca drawls.
"Shut the fuck up, Luca," Seb snaps.
"Not saying anything that the rest of us aren’t thinking," Luca chortles.
"The fuck are you doing?" Adrian admonishes him, "Man’s already nervous—"
"I am not nervous."
"Okay, man’s not nervous but he can’t help sweating, even though it’s freezing right now in church and—"
I turn on Adrian, who raises both hands, "Sorry, fratellino, just trying to lighten the atmosphere."
"Well, don’t," I growl, then turn back to my perusal of the goddam window. Tell me again, why the hell did I agree to this? Oh, yeah, because it’s the only way to put my plan in motion—to get revenge on the Sovranos, once and for all. And if, during that process, she gets hurt… Well, too bad. There’s always collateral damage, after all. Wasn’t I the collateral damage in the tussle between my mother and the Sovrano family, after all. And if they hadn’t let her go, if my father had been a better man, if my Nonna had intervened, my mother might still be alive today. But she’s gone, and I am here, and I am finally going to get my revenge for her death.
"One tip for you," Seb leans close.
"Not interested," I snap.
"Oh, I think you should listen to this one," Massimo cautions.
"It’s about the kiss," Seb adds.
"Kiss?" I shoot him a sideways glance. Like the others, he’s dressed in a black suit, with a bowtie and hair slicked back. Together, they look like the quintessential Mafia clan, the kind you’d see in movies. Only, this is my life and I need every bit of focus I can muster. "You were saying?" I murmur as I take in the slight bulge at his hip under his jacket. Yep, they are all packing, except me. Not that I’ve had access to one. Not that I had asked. Michael had offered and I had turned it down. I wanted nothing to distract from the wedding and I wanted all of them to be lulled into a state of complacency.
"The priests here don’t like more than a chaste peck on the cheek after the wedding."
"Eh?" I scowl.
"But don’t let that stop you from kissing the bride."
"Thanks for the fucking tip," I glower at him.
"You’re welcome." He smirks.
I roll my shoulders, and this time, Massimo slaps me on the back. "Relax, Champ, you’ve got this."
Right.
On the pews, people shuffle their feet, someone coughs, a baby cries out and is shushed.
"Think Nonna forgot to invite anyone?" I ask.
"Nope," Seb chuckles, "it’s tradition. Whenever a Sovrano gets married, everyone turns out. Somehow, Michael managed to get away with a low-key wedding. Since then, she’s sworn that each time one of us gets married she is going to make sure it’s a bigger wedding than the last.”
No kidding. Once more, I glance around at the huge arrangements of flowers that fill the space. It’s quite beautiful, actually, and the entire place smells like a garden. Roses, lilies, hibiscus…apple blossoms. I stiffen. The hair on the back of my neck rises. On cue, the church organ strikes up the wedding march.
"This is it," Seb whispers, "and just so you know, I have the rings."
The rings that Nonna had chosen and which I had gone along with. To be honest, I had barely paid any attention to them when Seb had shown them to me earlier. It doesn’t matter, really—not when this entire wedding is a sham. So why does everything feel so much more real right now?
A ripple runs through the crowd and I know she’s walking down the aisle. Massimo draws in a breath, "Mamma Mia, she’s beautiful."
I refuse to turn.
"Gesù Cristo, she’s a vision." Adrian slaps my shoulder, "You are a lucky son of a bitch."
I wince, stare straight ahead.
"Whoa," Seb gasps, "what the hell is she wearing?"
What the fuck? If she’s wearing something that exposes too much of her I’ll—I turn to watch her approach and promptly forget to breathe.
She walks toward me dressed in a simple white gown that covers her shoulders with a high collar at the back and a simple neckline that hints at her cleavage without exposing anything. The lace and pearl covered bodice stretches across her gorgeous breasts. The sleeves are a lace lattice that stretch all the way to her wrists. The dress itself cinches at her waist, then flows down in a simple A-line skirt to her ankles. It’s tight enough to show off her curves without being obscene in any way. On her head, she wears a delicate tiara from which her veil floats over her face. In her hands, she holds a burst of pink and white apple blossoms. Her other hand is threaded through Michael’s.
She had mentioned to me that her father uses a walker, but I didn't realize she'd asked Michael to walk her down the aisle instead. I should have known about this, right? But then, I hadn’t been interested in finding out any details about the wedding. Not when it didn’t mean anything to me. It doesn’t. So why can’t I take my gaze off of her as she comes to a pause in front of me? Why is my heart beating so fast? Why is my pulse pounding at my temples? Sweat pools under my armpits as Michael smiles down at her, then leans around her in my direction. "Hurt her and I’ll kill you." His smile widens as he grips my shoulder, then steps back.
I take in the paleness of her cheeks, visible through the lace of her veil.
I turn to face the priest, who begins to drone. I draw in a breath, then another, forcing myself to focus. Focus. All of my senses click into place. The voices fade away. My muscles relax. My vision tunnels. At the right time, I turn to face her and say my vows, as does she. Then Seb hands us the rings. I slide the ornate gold band over her finger, accept the simple gold band on mine.
Then, before the priest has completed his sentence, I close the distance to her. Her green gaze clashes with mine. I raise her veil and my breath catches. A hot sensation stabs in my chest. She’s beautiful, innocent, and doesn’t deserve what is going to come. And I don’t deserve what happened to me either. I gather her in my arms and kiss her.
Her breath hitches, the muscles of her body tense, then she melts into me. I haul her close enough that her breasts flatten against my chest. Her lips cling to mine then part, and I sweep my tongue inside her mouth. I tilt my mouth, deepen the kiss, and a moan trembles up her throat. I swallow it, suck on her tongue, ravish her mouth for a second longer, then I tear my mouth from hers. The clapping and the cheers from the assembled crowd wash over me. I stare down at her trembling lips, her wide gaze as my chest rises and falls.
"What’s wrong?" she whispers. "Axel, what are you going to do?"
I bare my teeth as I release her, "I am going to take my revenge."
She shakes her head, opens her mouth, but I am already moving. I pivot on my heel, grab Seb’s gun from his holster, then turn. I spin her around and haul her to me, then point the gun at Michael.
"Down," I snarl, "get the fuck down."
35
Theresa
One moment, he was kissing me like his life depended on it, like he had never kissed me before, like he meant it, like he loved me. He loves me; he does. I knew it because of the way he’d slanted his mouth over mine and wrapped his arms about me and held me so close that nothing and no-one could come between us—or so I’d thought—and the next he’d pulled back, a strange look on his face. A mixture of determination and anger...and a plea for understanding? For forgiveness. My heart had slammed into my ribcage, my stomach had bottomed out, and I’d known then, that he was going to do something bad. Something that would change the course of all of our lives.
Something I’d never be able to forget in the years ahead. I’d opened my mouth to scream, but he’d already spun around, grabbed Seb’s gun, then yanked me to him. My breath had caught in my chest and my fingers had trembled, even as I’d clutched at my wedding bouquet. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. My knees had almost given way from under me and his grip around me had tightened.
