Page 143 of Vicious Intentions
“Anna, look at me,” I order, lifting her chin until her eyes meet mine. “I’d die before I’d let anyone touch you. Do you understand?”
Anna’s brows furrow, confusion clear in her gaze. Understandable. Why would I make her a promise like that? I’m no one to her. Her husband only on paper.
Fuck, if she takes anything from tonight, let it be this certainty—I would burn this fucking world to ash if anyone tried to hurt her in any way.
“Just dance with me, Matteo,” she says instead, giving up on trying to understand me. “I’m too tired to fight you tonight.”
With those words, we fall into silence, the music carrying us as the world around fades, just enough to make us feel as if we were the only two people in the room.
With her arms around my neck.
With my hands on her hips.
And a space between us, heavy with everything left unsaid.
Chapter 30
Annamaria
Exhausted feels like too small a word for how I feel right now. I never understood just how much a wedding takes out of the bride. I have a newfound respect for all my brothers’ wives and my sister Stella. They made it all look so easy. Then again, they were in love with their grooms, so that might have helped.
I steal a discreet glance at my own husband sitting beside me as his chauffeur drives us back to his penthouse. I suppose I should be grateful Matteo didn’t bother pretending this wedding was anything more than a sham by dragging me off on a honeymoon. As much as his apartment feels like a prison, it’s preferable to a five-star hotel where we would be expected to consummate this marriage.
Thank God the Cosa Nostra no longer upholds the archaic Sicilian tradition ofmostrare le lenzuolato prove a bride’s chastity and her family’s honor.
Or maybe they still do and simply chose to skip it in my case, since my family apparently has none. I suppose being an Outfitprincipessahas its perks after all.
Then again, it could be that the new boss of the famiglia simply forbade it, sparing me the humiliation and indignity, for reasons I’m not sure I want to understand.
The words he said to me today, paired with the doting look in his eyes, confuse me more than they should. Someone who didn’t know any better might actually believe that Matteo Donato has feelings for his new wife.
Wife.
I’m going to get sick of that word real fast, considering the number of times he’s used it today. He’s doing it on purpose, though. He must know the word irks me to no end. And it wouldn’t be Matteo if he didn’t find new ways to get under my skin.
The man has a knack foralwaysgetting under my skin.
Be it with that look in his eye that almost has me believing he isn’t a monster, or the pretty words that fly out of his mouth meant only to confuse me. Everything about him should terrify me, but my mind won’t cooperate.
I blame his younger brother for that. After years of being friends with Raffaele, something in me is now wired wrong. My subconscious latches onto the similarities in Matteo’s voice and presence, and clings to them as if they mean safety, before I can remind myself that he is anything but.
Matteo isn’t safe. Not to me and not to my family. Or at least he wasn’t. Not before I stood before God and all of New York City and became his wife, binding his fate to mine.
It’s done now. There’s no way back from this. From here on out, I’ll just be a footnote in this mafia war. And a war is coming. Of that, I have no doubt.
When my family finds out, they’ll be so heartbroken.
But what could I have done? Matteo promised me he would spare their lives.
There wasn’t any other choice.
Unless he lied.
What if he just said that to make sure I made it to the altar? Could he be that devious?
As if sensing my rising panic, Matteo turns toward me with that damn look in his eyes. The one that always manages to confuse me. The one that suggests he would never hurt me, never cause me pain. The look that almost makes me believe he actually cares.
Suddenly, my panic isn’t for my loved ones.It’s for me.
