Page 1 of Reaper’s Wrath

CHAPTER 1

ISA

Two hands wrap around to cover my eyes from behind as a masculine scent fills my lungs.

“Guess who?”

The softly rumbled words close to my ear spark a wildfire of excitement coursing through my veins. I whirl around to face the most beautiful man I've ever known. Green-and-gold-flecked eyes. Honey-brown curls on his head trimmed short around the back and sides and left longer on top. He’s tall. A solid foot taller than my five-four. And he’s strong. Arms corded with muscle, and a chest as solid as a tree trunk.

Joy beams from my face as I take him in.

He smirks. It’s coy and cocky and adoring all at the same time. I love it. I love him. I can feel it down to my toes as he leans ever-so-slowly forward, bringing himself closer … closer … until his lips…

My eyes spring open as I gasp awake.

God, not again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I rub my eyes aggressively as if I can wipe away the memory of the dream.

I can't keep doing this. I refuse to form a crush on my best friend's boyfriend.

Ever since Terina started seeing DiAngelo, I've been feeling these strange twinges around him and having inappropriate dreams about him. I don't understand it because I've known the man since we were children, and this has never been an issue.

Why now?

Why is this happening?

Am I infinitely more selfish than I could have imagined? I’ve been so incredibly happy to see my best friend fall in love, so why would my brain even entertain the idea of stealing that joy from her?

It's making me hate myself a little more every time I'm around him, which happens more and more frequently now that the two of them are together.

The dream is all the proof I need that I've made the right decision to marry Mazzi Antonelli. Not that I needed more proof. I knew from the moment I heard an arranged marriage was needed that I should be the one to volunteer. Why make some other woman give up her dreams of marriage and romance when I've known for as long as I can remember that wasn't for me?

I'm hardly sacrificing anything at all. Sure, I'll end up with a roommate, but as long as he knows there’s nothing more to our relationship, the marriage should work out for everybody involved. The Luciano and Moretti families get their alliance, and Mazzi and I can hopefully be friends. We've met once since the decision was made, and he seems to be a decent enough man. Maybe a little full of himself, but nothing I can't handle. We'll have plenty of money for a big enough house where we can coexist peacefully.

It won’t be all that different from living with my dad like I do now. And who knows, maybe we even establish a sort of partnership in life that I hadn't expected for myself. Crazier things have happened.

But the one thing that will not happen is me pining after my best friend’s man.

I scrape all remnants of the dream from my mind and start my day. After my morning routine, I decide a little time outside would do me good. The day is unusually mild for November in New York and perfect for some gardening. My father employs a service that keeps the extensive landscaping around the large house in excellent condition, but I'm sure I can find something to prune or plant.

I put on a pair of old jeans and a faded sweatshirt I got from Coney Island years ago and head out to assess the situation. Starting at the garage, I follow the flower bed as it winds its way around the side of the house and scan for areas where I might do more good than harm. I'm so consumed with my task that I don't notice the man standing by our front door until I'm nearly all the way at the entrance.

No, not a man.

This creature is more mountain than man.

He’s got to be seven feet tall, but his size is more than his height. Everything about him is bigger and more solid than an average man. I’d say he weighs at least four hundred pounds. He’s … huge. Every stitch of clothing he wears must be custom-made because I can’t imagine they carry Clydesdale-size garments at a big-and-tall shop. At what point is a man so huge that he becomes a new species entirely? I simply can't fathom how his DNA is still human.

He's not merely large; he's a literal giant. And he’s staring at me.

“Hello, pretty lady.” A toothy grin accompanies his cavernous voice.

“Oh! Hi … can I help you?” I ask, sensing he’s not an immediate risk. I could be wrong, but nothing about him strikes me as malevolent—quite the opposite. The loose curls framing his face and the glint in his mahogany eyes convey a gentle innocence despite his gargantuan size.

“I’m Fedele. I work for Mazzi.” He gestures inside the house, telling me my fiancé must be inside with my father. “I guess that means soon, I’ll work for you, too.”