“Thank fuck for that, considering he’s a massive piece of shit who sold his daughter.”
She tosses me a heated glare, nostrils flaring, cheeks pinkening. Fuck, that blush makes my throat burn. “How lucky for me that you got there first.”
“Kieran Ivers would’ve bent you over the bench in that courtroom, fucked your likely virgin ass, and then slit your throat before thinking twice about his audience. I think you should count your goddamn lucky stars I even offered to marry you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t object, either. Seemed pretty eager when I had my head between your thighs, worshipping your pussy until you came all over my fucking chin.”
We’ve veered so far off-topic, but it’s hard to stay focused when the hatred for me emanates from her body like a warm glow from a campfire on a cold winter night. It draws me in, the warmth irresistible, but I’m afraid someone’s left a few dead leaves too close to the pit, and it’s beginning to spiral out of control.
Clearing my throat, I try to redirect the conversation. “Just tell me who touched you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too damn bad.” My voice is sharp, the jagged edge of a broken glass shard, and she flinches. Swallowing, I try to force some of the tension from my body, aware that I’m being an ass.
What is she doing to me?
Montaltos don’t bend to anyone, and yet I feel my gut deflating, trying to allow room for her to breathe.
“Caroline.” I lean over the seat and grip her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. Better she learns now that I’m a prick, rather than later. “I don’t tolerate secrets.”
“Well, that’s a shame, husband, because I have many.”
My eyes narrow, searching her flawless face for signs of distress. She’s cold and aloof, using her attitude to throw me off, but I’m not so easily deterred. “Tell me what happened to you. The last time I saw you, your body was unharmed.”
“Wrong, Capo. My body hasn’t been unharmed since I was a kid.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighs softly, shaking her head, and I release her. Turning to look out the window, she presses her forehead against the glass, watching the world flash by. We pass by the streets leading out of downtown, flush with pine trees and flowerbeds, landscaping maintained by the poorest residents in town. To an outsider, King’s Trace is your average, cutesy tourist town, but I know the danger that lurks beneath.
I am the danger.
It feels wrong to be the most powerful man in the state and be unable to get your brand-new wife to open up about her demons.
A million miles stretch between Caroline and me, shifting something between us I wasn’t even aware existed. An invisible force, blocking her from me.
Settling back in my seat, I close my eyes and try to focus on strategizing for work. Certainly, when Kieran hears that we went through with our nuptials, he’ll want a meeting, and I’m sure as fuck not giving him that. Not when I’m sure he’s involved in our missing product.
“Why’d you ask me to marry you?”
Opening my eyes, I look over at my wife; Caroline still stares out the window, but her fingers curl into the top of her thighs, knuckles blooming white. “Does it really matter after the fact?”
“I guess not.”
“Look. I just wanted to help. It seemed like you could use it.” A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I try to shift the tone of our afternoon. “It helps that you’re beautiful.”
“What, did you think that by marrying me, I’d pull my skirt up and let you dick me down whenever you need it?”
I choke on a surprised laugh. “Dick you down? Jesus, your mouth. What does that even mean?”
“What’s it sound like? Come on, Elia, that big head of yours can’t be completely empty. Stupid men don’t run crime organizations.”
I’m not comfortable with how much she knows about my work, but I suppose that’s the curse of living in a small-ass town and being the daughter of a man deeply invested in the world. “Keep talking like that, and I’m going to throw you over my fucking knees, carina. I told you to watch your mouth.”
“And I told you, I’m not going to just do whatever you say.”
My jaw ticks; I can feel my blood pressure rising, shifting quickly from arousal to indignation. No one fucking talks to me like this, and yet... I don’t mean it when I tell her to stop.
What is wrong with me?
“Why’d you agree to it?” I shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t care. But none of this adds up. Her own mother said she’s not the impulsive type, and she’s made it clear she isn’t interested in being like the other mafia wives. So, what the fuck is in this for her, besides a little protection?
It’s not like she couldn’t just disappear. Kieran would go after her father for sure at that point, and the others he owes money to would just follow suit.
So, what’s keeping her here, tied to me?
Her eyes stay trained on the window, but I don’t miss the way they glaze over, the way her throat bobs with a thick swallow. Something isn’t right with her, but I don’t have time to figure out what exactly, because, in the next second, Benny pulls into my—our—driveway, announcing our arrival, pulling her from the conversation entirely.
The gray stone walls on the exterior of the restored Victorian mansion look like every other house on the Lake Koselomal strip. They’re homes for a few of the uber-elite, heavily entrenched by iron fencing and white cedar trees, overlooking a lake no one ever swims in.
Benny opens the car door for Caroline and helps her out. The urge to make a cutting remark about how easily she accepts help from him briefly scalds my tongue, but I tamp it down at the sheer look of wonder taking over her face. She peers up at the house like it’s a castle, and she’s a princess finally moving in.
A foreign sensation blossoms within me at the realization that I want her face to stay that way forever—pure, angelic, unfettered. Like all her past ghosts and sins are behind her, forgotten.
“This is your house?” A wide grin breaks out, showcasing her perfect white teeth.
I shrug, making my way up the stone front walk. “Yours, as well, now.”
“Holy shit.” She stands in the roundabout driveway for a few more seconds, then scrambles to catch up as I step onto the porch. “It’s gorgeous. Like something out of a fairytale.”
My eyebrows scrunch together. What kind of fairytales are you reading?
Choosing not to burst her bubble, I key in the door code and wait for it to unlock. The entire house has an intricate security system and an armed guard stationed outside at all times. Although, with Caroline’s arrival I may have to take on a second one, since Benny goes where I do, and I’m sure as hell not bringing her to the club.
Stepping inside, I share a nod with Benny that lets him know to stay outside and watch as my wife—my wife—gazes around at the tall ceilings, the abstract paintings on some of the walls, the clean and barely used furniture. The white of my home against the white of her dress makes her look like the spring goddess she is, innocence just waiting for the stain of destruction.
I’ve never liked the lack of color; it’s always felt like a personal dig from the interior decorator—like she knew my secrets and filled my home accordingly.
The white marble flooring and the quartz countertops, the Viscaya furniture with all its gold borders and dark woods and white velvets, make the house feel like a coffin, a lonely shell reflective of the life within.
Yet, she gazes around as if she’s never seen anything more beautiful.
A small smile plays on my mouth as I watch her, but it disappears as my gaze drops to her neck. She unwinds the scarf, unaware of my inspection, and drapes it over one of the sofas. Trailing her fingers along the soft material, she turns, finally facing me.
If she notices the hard set of my jaw, she doesn’t say anything.
“This is beautiful.”
Again, I shrug, because I’m not really sure what else to do here. I don’t know what happens after this. All I can think of is finding out who put their hands on her and stuffing my fist down their throat.
“I can’t imagine it’s that different from your parents’ house.” The Harrisons live in the only gated community on the other side of town, situated just behind the mayor’s mansion.
She scoffs, pushing a curl behind her ear. “It’s hardly a home, first of all. And second, houses in Locust Grove are just cookie-cutter shacks hiding tragedy. They’re not places for people to live or raise families. Not like this. There are so many possibilities here.”
Taking a step closer, I gaze down at her, inhaling her rich, fruity-yet-floral scent, wishing I could commit it to memory. Maybe even bottle it, keep it for the nights she inevitably refuses to warm my bed. “What tragedy happened at your house, Caroline?”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and I swear I want nothing more in this moment than to lose myself in their depths. The sadness within is endless, a sea of untethered, repressed memories nearly mirroring my own.
She offers me a tight smile, but nothing else.
An invisible force draws me even closer until our body heat mixes together, and I can’t tell where mine ends, and hers begins. Heat rises to my neck as her perfume envelops me, and I bring my hand to her throat, sweeping over her broken skin with my fingertips. Leaning against my touch, her eyes drift closed like she feels safe here.
With me.
When she absolutely shouldn’t.
When all I can think about is fucking devouring her, crawling inside her skin and stitching myself into the walls of her being, grinding myself into dust and sprinkling it on her bones. All the ways I could destroy her, leave my mark on her.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my heart swelling and shattering, like the tide pulling back and crashing against the shore. Her eyes open, and she stares up at me from hooded lashes, daring me to take her.
Taste her.
Eat her alive.
So, I do.
FOR THE SECOND time in the short span we’ve been married, Elia knocks my freaking socks off with the sheer intensity of his kiss. Well, at least, that’d be the reaction if I was wearing socks.
One second, we’re standing there, wallowing in our unspoken sadness, and in the next, he’s fusing our mouths together until I can’t distinguish my breath or heart from his.
It’s like he’s trying to eat me for dinner, to consume me the way someone might their last supper.
My soul temporarily leaves my body as his lips continue their assault, hands tangling in my hair; it orbits around us as we maneuver through the living room, stopping only once we’ve hit resistance at the wall by the grandiose staircase. He pushes his hips into my stomach, and I can feel him grow hard in time with his ragged breathing.
Jesus. His erection is thick and long and scorches me through my dress; I raise one leg as he reaches and grips my thigh, hooking it around his waist. My dress bunches at my waist, the new angle granting him better access to my core. The friction of him against my clit causes stars to dance across my vision.
I gasp, my mouth opening at the sensations awakening in my belly, and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, swirling and tasting like I’m the most delicious delicacy he’s ever had.
Our tongues war for dominance, twisting and pushing, fighting like two serpents. His free hand cradles my jaw as he tilts my head, deepening the kiss.
From this position, it feels like I can swallow him whole.
And a strange part of me, one I’ve never tapped into before, kind of wants to.
Finally, he breaks the kiss. I’m not expecting it, though, and find myself jerking forward, trying to chase his mouth. He grins at me, using the tip of his thumb to swipe some saliva that’s collected at the corner of his lip. His chest heaves with each breath he takes, and his hand doesn’t move from my thigh—like he’s not quite finished.
My pussy tingles at the idea.
“I want you.” His eyes darken, thunderstorms trapped in his gaze, and my entire body temperature rises. Goosebumps prickle along my skin as his hand on my thigh travels higher, cupping just below my ass, and squeezes hard. “So goddamn bad.”
Sweeping my hands up his chest, I revel in the taut planes beneath his suit, gripping the edges of his lapels. I pull him close and lick the shell of his ear, whispering, “You shouldn’t.”
Close to the curve of my neck now, he eats up the distance, pressing his lips into my skin. A soft moan escapes my mouth even though I bite the inside of my cheek to keep it inside. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sucks just below my ear as if he’s trying to rip the flesh from my body, making me shiver. “Just that you shouldn’t want people you don’t know everything about.” My response is shaky, delayed, as he continues his assault.
Releasing me with a succulent pop, he bites down on the raised spot, definitively marking me. God, when my father sees that, he’ll probably lose it—even if this man is my husband.
I’m not stupid enough to think my problems have ended.
If anything, I’ve just exacerbated them.
Elia’s head straightens, eyes boring into mine. He drops my thigh, my shoe smacking against the marble floor and making my body vibrate. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, carina?”
“No.”
His lips purse, eyes roaming over my face as he searches for answers I’m not willing to give.
I drag in a stuttered breath, trying to calm my racing heart. How many times does it need to break before it learns its lesson and stops yearning for things that can’t be?
If I go into this and immediately forget why I’ve signed my freedom over under the guise of protection, it’s all for nothing. I can’t let this handsome face—no matter that he’s sex on legs—distract me.
Disentangling my limbs from his, I duck beneath his arms and cross the room, leaning against the kitchen counter. Space, that’s what we need right now. He gets in my personal bubble, and every bad thought I’ve ever had about his world and men dissipates into thin air.
He clears his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt and unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Very well. I have a few things I need to attend to at work, so I regret that I’ll be unable to join you for the majority of our honeymoon.”
I shrug. “I knew what I was getting into.”
We stand there for a few beats, silent, staring at each other. There’s a fire dwindling in his gaze, asking me to rekindle it, but I refrain. Do not let him distract you.
“Caroline, I—”
“I’ll be fine, Elia. I’m entirely capable of being left here by myself.”
“I wouldn’t think you’re incapable.” He frowns, eyebrows pulling inward. “I was just going to say, Benito will remain on duty, even after I’m gone. I never know how long I’ll be, so, if for some reason you need to leave the house, just make sure you tell him so he can take you.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary.” Like I want his crony tailing me on every trip I make. “I’m fine walking.”
“Walking?”
“That’s what I said.”
He reaches up and cups the back of his neck, rubbing a spot like he’s trying to erase it from his body. I know the feeling. “Caroline, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you can’t just go walking around town. Not without a security detail.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? I thought you said you knew who I was.”
“I do, but what does that have to do with me?”
Exhaling, his hand drops, and he just shakes his head. “Just...tell Benito when you need to go somewhere. He’ll take you wherever.”
“And if I don’t? If I leave by myself?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he takes a few steps toward where I’m standing, until he’s so close he has to turn his head all the w
ay down to look at me. It makes me feel two-feet-tall. Vulnerable.
“You don’t want the answer to that.” His voice is harsh, strained, and my ears crave more. More loss of control, more desperation—I want him to unleash the beast I feel percolating beneath the surface of his skin, hiding out in his veins.
I want to push him the way I’ve been pushed, to see how long it takes him to break.
My soul salivates for his—wants it as a trophy. Proof that I’m not the broken girl my father always said I was; just a prize to tout around before exacting my revenge on the others.
“But I do.” My eyes lock onto his, and I see the monster lurking there. It calls out to mine, but I ignore it because that isn’t the game we’re playing here. “What do I have to do to make you hurt me?”
“Why the fuck would I want to do that?”
I sigh softly, reaching out and smoothing my hands down the front of his suit, flicking my fingers over the belt buckle. My hand grazes the unmistakable bulge in his slacks that hasn’t lessened since we pried our faces apart, and he inhales a sharp breath at the contact.
Men are so fucking easy.
Pinching his eyes closed, his hips shift forward into my palm, and I squeeze, ignoring the moisture slickening my thighs. Elia Montalto might be the king of King’s Trace, but he’s no match for me.
Like every other man before him, a quick stroke of his dick sends him into a frenzy, making my task here so much simpler.
He’ll never even see it coming.
Just as that thought flashes in my mind, Elia jerks back, breaking the connection. He moves, trapping my body between his and the counter. His hand curls around my throat, the pressure of his fingertips a startling contrast to how it felt having my father’s on me last week.
It’s light, just enough to prove his authority. Not like he wants to hurt me, but a warning that he absolutely could.
“I don’t think my pain is the kind you’ll recover from.” Dropping his hand and yanking away as if I’ve burned him, he turns on his heel and marches to the front door. “And I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, but I should warn you: I don’t lose. Ever. Now, stay here while I’m gone, and we can talk logistics when I return. Don’t leave this place unless Benito is in attendance. I don’t think I need to inform you that people rarely cross Montalto men and live.”
Sweet Surrender: A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (King's Trace Antiheroes Book 1) Page 5
