by M. Robinson
I could hear it thrumming in my ears.
I could feel it in my bones.
Breaching the walls she securely had in place when it came to me. I swear every part of my nervous system was breaking, shutting down, making it hard to see, let alone stand.
I don’t know if it was her disobedience.
The arguing between us that felt a lot like foreplay.
Or the fact that she was now Mrs. Martinez…
It was thrilling.
Euphoric, a high in itself.
She weakly thrashed around in my embrace as I held her tighter against my chest. Both of us breathless.
Which had me rasping, “I’ll destroy myself before you ever can. Do you understand me?”
She frustratingly groaned. I didn’t know if it was from what I said or from knowing it was the truth. Or possibly from knowing she wasn’t going anywhere, unless I allowed her to. Closing her eyes, she tried to govern her breathing and all her thoughts.
Especially her fucking heart that I was callously cutting into shreds.
I loosened my hold, slowly brushing my lips against hers. Wanting to feel her one last time. Her eyes snapped open, and I saw it before it happened. Forcefully, she shoved me with all her strength. I let her feel as if she was in control, it was the least I could do.
I let her go.
She didn’t falter, picking up her gown and hauling ass out of the church with my feet stomping behind her. Acting on pure adrenaline and fury from what she started…
An all-out war between us.
Once she exited the cathedral, reporters and cameras circled her. Surrounding us like the vultures they were.
“Mrs. Martinez! Where are you going?” one shouted.
“How does it feel to be a mafia queen?” another yelled.
Lights, camera, action.
The security guards invaded her space, blocking off the animals as best as they could. She placed her hands in front of her trying to see through the flashing bright lights. Unable to manage my own strength, I pulled her away from them much harder than I intended. Needing to get us the hell out of there, fully aware it wouldn’t stop there.
Hurrying us down the concrete stairs, she tried to keep up with my stride, while I hastily rushed us over to the limo waiting for us in front of the church. The clicking sound of her heels beat deep within my core with each step she took. One-by-one it added to all the chaos erupting in my mind.
“You’re going too fast,” she pleaded, as I quickly ascended upon my car. “You’re going to make me fall.”
“You’ll never fall, I’ll always catch you.”
“How noble of you.” She forcefully yanked her arm away from my hold, spewing, “Are you for real? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Your husband!”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“Goddamn it!” I tore a camera out of my face, chucking it from my view with the man attached to it. Gripping onto her arm again, I snarled, “Not. Here. Not. Now.”
She glared at me, knowing she wouldn’t win a physical power struggle against me.
“Let go—”
I opened the limo door and threw her ass in there, slamming the door behind her. Running around to the other side, I jumped in, ordering, “Go! Now!”
The driver did, hitting the gas.
Right when I closed the partition to give us some privacy, Sienna really lost her shit.
Seething, “Fuck you!” She tackled me, simply proving to be the pain in the ass I knew she would be.
“I hate you! Do you hear me? I fucking hate you!” she roared, pounding on my chest. “You ruined everything! It’s my birthday! I was supposed to be leaving this life behind and now I’m stuck because of you! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? And how much I despise you for it! You selfish fucking bastard!”
She took a swing at my face, however, I intercepted, grabbing ahold of her wrist. Using the momentum from her anger, I spun her back to my chest. Subduing her swinging arms, I held her in place.
“Calm the fuck down,” I bit out.
“Why would you do this to me? Huh? Why would you punish me for a life I don’t want? You want me to trust you when I can’t even stand to look at you!”
Her legs flailed, thrashing her body around, trying to break free. She put up one hell of a fight against my strong embrace.
“I will never be your wife in the way it matters! You will have to rape me before I ever let you touch me tonight!”
Her words ripped into me like blades of a knife. Twisting the dagger right in my heart.
“Princesa—”
“I said don’t call me that! I’m not a princess. I’m not a queen. I’m not anything but a mafia wife! How long, huh? How long until you cheat on me? Hit me? Put me in my place when I don’t listen to your every order and command?”
“Jesus Christ, calm the fuck down!”
“Never! Tell me! I want to know how long do I have until you get me killed and I die like my mother did because of my father?”
I grimaced, hearing her confess her truths, wasn’t something I ever expected, certainly not in this moment.
“I will protect you!”
“Bullshit! Like you did your sister? Your own flesh and blood! You couldn’t even protect her! Where is she, huh? I know! She’s probably dead in a fucking ditch right now, but she’s better off than living in this life with you!”
Her malicious tongue fueled my rage and I threw her ass around, slamming her back into the leather seat. She hissed as soon as her body and head collided with the surface. Winded. Although, she didn’t back down. Her instinctive response of fight or flight kicked in and my wife chose…
Fight.
We spent the next few minutes whipping around, both of us trying to gain control over the other until I just wanted this power struggle to be over.
“Sienna, stop! Look at me! Just fucking look at me!”
She firmly shut her eyes, rigidly twisting her face and body away from mine. Bringing her hands above her head, I locked them in place, before I climbed on top of her. Holding her down, I straddled her petite frame, hovering above her.
Her gaze popped open, realizing the sudden position we were in.
“Is this where you steal another part of me?”
I narrowed my eyes at her, torn by her fierce conception on who she thought I was and what I was capable of.
“Do you honestly think I would fuck you for the first time in the back of a limo?”
“What’s the difference between here and a bed? In both places, I don’t want you.”
I was at my wit’s end. A man could only be pushed so far until they reached their limit. My firm grasp flew from her wrists to her throat and her eyes widened. She laid there beneath me, panting profusely, emotionally and physically spent. For a moment, I allowed her to take my breath away.
In my eyes, she was still so goddamn beautiful.
Before another second slipped by, I peered deep into her troubled stare. Trapping her gaze with mine.
“If you ever raise your voice at me again, or if you mention my sister one more fucking time, I’ll make sure your life is a living, breathing hell. Don’t tempt me, Sin. Because you’ll only do it once.”
Speaking with execution, I put an end to our battle, “You’ve been my wife for less than an hour. Don’t become my enemy, Sienna. I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. But don’t think for one fucking second that I’ll protect you…from me.”
Chapter 22
—Sienna—
I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. But don’t think for one fucking second that I’ll protect you…from me.”
His words repeated like a broken record through my head. Just as I expected, from the moment the DJ announced our arrival at the reception, I lost sight of myself. Hearing him declare us as Mr. and Mrs. Crucifixio Martinez was a solid bullet right into my heart. I was reduced to a Mrs. My name didn’t matter anymore, not when it was tied to El Diablo’s.
>
We danced to my parents’ wedding song, Al-Di-Va by Jerry Vale for the first time as husband and wife. I was there, but I wasn’t. There was no fight left in me. I lost. Game over.
He won.
Me.
I danced to Daddy’s Little Girl by Al Martino with my father.
Cruz danced to The Prayers by Celine Dion, featuring Andrea Bocelli with his mother.
I think I blacked out again when Cruz’s father asked me to dance.
“My son will do right by you,” he proclaimed with what seemed like genuine sincerity.
I wanted to tell him to go to Hell, but decided it was wasn’t in my best interest. If El Capo found out I disrespected one of his associates, I’d never hear the end of it.
“Mmm hmm,” I simply hummed, nodding.
“One day you will love him. I promise you that.”
I peered deep into his eyes. “Can you promise me my freedom?”
“Cruz, won’t keep you hostage. He’ll treat you as his wife.”
“My last name is now Martinez, that in itself keeps me prisoner in a life I don’t want.”
“Life isn’t fair. Actions have consequences, Sienna.”
“With all due respect, your daughter getting taken has nothing to do with me. I’m as much of a victim in this as she is.”
“Our loved ones pay for our sins.”
“Yeah, I learned that when I was eight and my mother paid with her life.”
“I understand. My mother paid with hers as well.”
I swayed back, shocked he shared that with me.
“We all have demons. Cruz can protect you, but he can’t chase yours away. It’s on you to bury them.”
“Did you bury yours?”
“Here’s the thing about demons, Sienna. You can bury them, but like me…they re-emerge.” He twirled me as the song was coming to an end. “Thank you for the dance.”
The reception went on without a hitch. Everyone celebrated what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. The liquor flowed, the music blared, and all in attendance carried on getting louder and louder as the hours ticked by. Handing us cards filled with nothing but blood money I wanted no part in.
The men cracked jokes about my father having to apologize for my behavior after I ran out of the ceremony. He said something along the lines of his daughter looked like an angel, like her mother, before he signaled the sign of the cross on his body. Finishing his joke by adding, “But her fire was one hundred and ten percent Sicilian. A blessing and a curse. Cruz has his hands full with her.”
Everyone laughed, and all was forgotten.
In a couple of sentences, he dismissed every single feeling I had.
I drank…a lot.
I had to. It was the only way I was going to survive this night. Glass after glass of champagne poured down my throat. If I heard one more person say, “Honeymoon baby,” I was going to scream until I broke all the glass bottles with my vocal cords, which flowed loosely at the party. We cut the cake, he fed me, and I did the same. Merely going through the motions of what was expected of me.
I threw my bouquet, Aurora caught it. Counting my small blessings that my father didn’t authorize the removal of my garter. When it came time for Cruz to throw it, he was given one to toss at the men. It felt more like I was preparing for death row than my very own wedding night.
My family and friends said their goodbyes along with my father. I swear, it seemed as though I blinked, and hours sped by. Before I knew it, we were on a private elevator on our way up to the honeymoon suite. Where everything in my life suddenly turned pitch dark black.
The iron doors slid open, revealing the biggest most lavish room I’d ever seen in my entire existence. The space was enormous, covered in roses. There wasn’t an area that wasn’t coated in red petals and vases upon vases of flowers. I walked in, knowing Cruz was stepping into the suite behind me. Every time I heard him take a step, it mimicked my pounding heart and ringing in my ears.
I was numb.
Broken.
Finding refuge in the chilled champagne bottle, I popped it open.
Cruz’s commanding presence instantly echoed off the walls. “You’ve had enough.”
“Have I?” I closed one eye, zeroing in on him. “Nope. I can still see you.” Setting the bottle on my lips, I gulped it down.
Three.
Five.
Seven swigs.
Until Cruz ripped it out of my hands. “I said you’ve had enough.”
“Oh, sir…you’re acting more like my daddy than you are my husband.”
“I could take you over my knee and spank your ass if you’d like.”
“I think you’re the one who would like that way too much.”
“Not as much as I’m going to like hearing you beg for it.”
“The only thing you’ll ever hear me beg for is my freedom which you stole from me.”
“I find it amusing you think I’ve taken anything from you. Considering this was an arranged marriage for me too.”
I winced, I couldn’t help it. This was the first time I’d heard him call our wedding an arranged marriage. Maybe it was the booze coursing through my bloodstream, but it hurt my self-esteem for him to reduce our nuptials to two meaningless words that meant nothing to him. Even if I’d said them myself countless times.
Okay, Sienna, you definitely need to stop drinking.
Like nails on a chalkboard, my fingers slid along the walls as I made my way into the bedroom. Halting over the threshold, I abruptly noticed the white silk nightie my aunts must have left on top of the bed.
“And here I thought you decorated this room for me. Do you want to know what happens next, Cruz?” I spun to face him.
Somewhere in the last few minutes he must have taken off his tuxedo jacket, it was hanging over the back of the couch. His tie also hung loosely around his neck while the top buttons of his shirt were undone as well. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
Radiating so much power and authority, I found myself sucking in a breath.
Fuck…how much did I drink?
My thighs clenched, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.
He deviously grinned, reading my mind.
I shook off the thoughts, pretending like he didn’t catch me gawking at him. “It is Italian mafia tradition for my aunts to burst in here tomorrow morning and strip the white linen sheets off the bed. Can you guess why?”
He narrowed his beady eyes at me, curious where I was going with this.
“They need to make sure that the bride’s virgin blood soaked the sheets.”
He jerked back, not expecting me to say that.
“Fucking morbid, right? Like who came up with that? Oh, I know! Some mafioso who wanted to show off to La Famiglia so he could prove his brass balls on someone else he thinks he owns. You see, I’m cheapened to just property now. You might as well have put a fucking hit out on me. Every enemy you will ever make will know I’m your greatest weakness. Not because you love me, or respect me, or even cherish me. It’s simply because they want what you have. It won’t just stop at me, Crucifixio. They’ll take everything from you, including your children.”
“Our children. I would never—”
“Don’t tell me you’d never let anything like that happen, Cruz. I’m not stupid or naive. You married a woman who was born into this life. I know more about it than you do. Why do you think your father faked his death? You can’t raise a family in this world and not think they’ll eventually be used as collateral. My life is valued more than yours now. You see, the person who gets killed is gone, they’re done. They get buried. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It’s just a body that rots away. It’s the people who get left behind to mourn their loss. Those regrets are the consequences of this mafia life. Death is easy, husband. It’s living in this world that’s hard.”
If he felt any emotions by what I confessed, he didn’t express it in the least.
Wanting s
ome sort of reaction out of him, I added, “I’ve experienced it firsthand. I watched my mother die in front of my eyes.”
“I know.”
“Oh, do you now?”
“I make it a point to know everything about you.”
“Hmm…I see…did my father also tell you the car bomb was meant for me?”
Nothing.
No affect.
The neutral expression on his face had my mind racing. I couldn’t stand to have him look at me the way he was. It reminded me of all the times I wanted to know what my father was thinking in similar situations. He never showed me anything I wanted to see. The stronger and more heated the discussion, the better control he had over his composure.
A fucking wall I wanted to break down. My worst nightmare had come to life, I married a mafioso.
“Are you just going to stand there and be all you?”
“What would you like me to do, Sienna? Coddle you, empathize, apologize for being who I am? I won’t do any of those things. This is the life we live, and unlike you, I’m trying to make the best of it. Which is why I wanted you as my wife.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You just said this was an arranged marriage for you too.”
“I don’t need you to repeat my words, I know what I said. But since you need to hear it again, this marriage was my idea.”
I gasped. “You’re lying.”
“There’s no point in lying to you. You’re already my wife.”
My eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
“Then pay attention. I’m clearly speaking to you.”
“Listen, asshole—”
“Do I talk to you like that, Sienna? I could call you a raging fucking bitch right now because you’re acting like one, but I haven’t.”
“You just did.”
“To prove my point.”
“Which is?”
“Treat me with respect unless you want to see—”
“El Diablo?”
