Page 41 of Taken In Trade
Still, I’m not going to beg for scraps of attention. He’ll either express interest in making this a real marriage or he won’t.
“I can certainly make myself at home.” I roll my eyes, raising my hand and wiggling my fingers. “I guess I’m just confused. I don’t even have a ring on my finger.”
“Will a ring help make things feel official?” His eyes sparkle. “I’ve already paid for your engagement and wedding rings. They needed to be sized, but I’ll be able to pick them up in the next few days.”
“How do you know my ring size?”
“It was in your contract with the O’Connors,” he says simply. “Have you heard the story of how my family pack came together?”
I shake my headno, but it’s untrue. I have heard the very basics. Apparently, I’m just nosy.
“My mother’s family ran the Italians,” Moretti says. “The Russians could never get a solid foothold in Boston, and her family made a deal for her to marry my father to consolidate the two factions. Only, she was already head over heels in love with her favorite guard—my other father.” He glances away, and the air in the room gets heavier. “Arkadiy quickly saw how miserable my mother would be if he attempted to force her to leave her lover behind, and the three of them formed a small pack.”
“I remember now,” I say softly. “Once your family pack came out to the Boston families, several others followed in quick succession.”
Those included Wilder Pierce’s parents, the O’Connors, and even my family pack. Before that, most mafia families were runby a single couple pairing, even if an omega was involved. It proved many of them had been part of packs for quite some time, but they didn’t advertise it since it wasn’t widely accepted. It started a chain reaction, and now, thirty years later, packs running mafia families aren’t looked down upon or considered strange.
“My mother followed a similar pattern to yours, marrying one man for love and another to honor a deal,” I say softly.
“My mother loved both fiercely. They provided different things that she needed to be happy,” he says, his eyes meeting mine once more.
I’m not sure what to add to that. He already knows that didn’t work out so well for my mother.
“I’m the sole heir to both families.” Moretti studies my face, and I wish I knew what he was looking for. “I have no interest in being part of a legal pack. Whatever arrangements you make, make sure they understand that.” He pushes himself up from his seat and comes over to linger in front of my chair. “A time will come when you and I will need an heir. Once that time comes, I won’t be inclined to share.”
So, what?
I’m allowed to have a boyfriend until he’s ready to make time for me, but when that happens, I’d better be ready to break things off?
If so, I hate that plan.
“Can you just speak plainly?”
He chuckles, bending down and cupping my jaw in his tattooed hand.
“I have no desire to be anything like the man you were very nearly married off to.” His thumb brushes over my cheek, and it gets hard to breathe. “You’ve repeatedly asked why I went out of my way to save you, and I thought long and hard about that question. I could lie and tell you it was an attempt tohonor my mother’s memory, since something similar very nearly happened to her. But the truth is, I married you because I wanted you.”
He leans closer, his pupils huge, round saucers.
No one wants to admit when they’re in over their head, but when it comes to him, I’m drowning.
My tongue darts over my dry lips, and my nipples ache as I wait to see if he’s going to kiss me. The kiss we shared during his announcement is barely a hazy memory. I was too shocked to enjoy it, and just when I was finally getting the hang of kissing him back, he was gone.
Moretti’s head dips lower, and his hand slides up my jaw until his palm cradles my skull. He weaves his fingers into my hair, and his lips slam against mine. That short beard of his scratches my skin, and my fingers dig into his shirt. He tastes faintly of alcohol and cigarettes. The latter, I never thought I would find appealing, but it strangely works for him.
My system buzzes, asking for something, but I’m too distracted to know what.
Moretti rakes his teeth over my lower lip, making me gasp. He doesn’t miss a beat, shoving his tongue into my mouth. His other palm lands on my ribs, and his hand is so large that his fingers dig into my back as he holds me in place.
I have no illusions about who is in control of the kiss. He’s bossy and commanding in a way that signals to my instincts that it’s time to be pliant and submissive. He could order me right out of my panties, and I would comply without question.
Every gasping breath floods my system with his electric scent, and it makes my skin sizzle.
I want him in a way that’s hard to explain, but it’s my instincts that are trying to convince me that weneedhim.
Shit.
I think that scent crush is turning into a man crush.
