Becoming her Salvation (Zanetti Famiglia Book 7)

by Hayley Faiman

  “But there’s no reason to spend money when you can save it,” she breathes.

  Closing the distance between us, I lift my hand, wrapping my fingers around the side of her neck. “You’re my wife now, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she exhales.

  “You’re the wife of not only a successful attorney but also a Made Man. Money is zero object, ever, for you.”

  She shakes her head, her eyes continuing to stay connected to mine. “Salvatore, I’m only going to be able to wear them for a few months, maybe. I am not going to waste your money. You and I both know that this isn’t real. I can’t spend your money like it is.”

  Anger radiates throughout my entire body. How the fuck dare she? My fingers flex around the side of her neck before I let my hand fall. Jerking my chin, I take a step back from her. I should not get angry, I should not be pissed off.

  We’re strangers.

  She doesn’t harbor any feelings toward me. It’s not her fault that I’m attracted to her, that I want more than just a marriage of convenience. That I want something real. Clearing my throat, I look at her, watching her for a moment.

  “Whatever you want, bambola, whatever you need is yours.”

  Rosana reaches for me, wrapping her fingers around my wrist, sending a shot of desire straight to my dick.

  “Thank you, Salvi. Thank you for everything.”

  Her words are nothing but a whisper, barely able to be heard by even me, but the way she’s watching me, I fucking feel them.

  Giving her a small smile, I nod my head. “Pick something to wear tonight. We’ll go to dinner to celebrate.”

  Her lips curve up into a smile, it takes over her whole face. She lights up. I wonder if I can always make her look this way, if she can smile at me like this always. I would do whatever I could to make that happen. To keep the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes.

  “Really?” she asks.

  Shaking my head with a chuckle, I give her a wink. “I’m taking my wife to dinner, buy a dress, Rosana.”

  I hear her let out a little squeal and then she’s gone like a bolt of lightning. I watch her rush through the store until she’s in the back and that’s where she stops. Chuckling, I follow her, and remind her to get something for dinner with her sister and Massimo.

  As I approach her, before I can say a word, she’s holding up a very small sexy as fuck piece of fabric. “I’ve been eyeing this for weeks online. Would this be okay?”

  She doesn’t have to ask me shit, not ever, especially when it comes to clothes. Dipping my chin, I look into her eyes. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” I murmur. “Don’t forget to buy something for dinner tomorrow night with Pippa and Massimo, too. They cannot find out about this until we tell them, we need to meet with them as soon as possible.”

  Something akin to what I assume is guilt crosses her features. “Oh, Pippa,” she murmurs.

  “She needs to know. She needs to hear it from you.”

  Rosana presses her lips together. The excitement and happiness from finding her dress has vanished and I hate myself for it, for bringing her back to reality. She clears her throat, looking down at her feet, then lifts her head and looks into my eyes.

  “I know she does,” she whispers.

  Smiling, I reach out and take her hand in mine, squeezing it. “All will be fine, bambola. We will get through all of it together.”

  “Yeah.”

  She doesn’t sound convinced and to be honest, I don’t feel so convinced myself. I don’t fail though, at anything.

  I fucking refuse.

  The one and only time I failed was Abriana, though had I known what she was up to, I would have protected her with my own life. I will not let anything happen to Rosana and she’ll be happy if it kills me.

  Chapter Four

  SALVATORE

  Guiding Rosana into my apartment, I set her bags down next to the front door. They’re heavy as fuck. She tried to keep me from buying so much, but the more she tried to tell me she didn’t need something, the more I wanted to buy it for her, and more.

  “Your place is gorgeous,” she whispers as she looks around.

  “You can make whatever changes you like. I’m not attached to anything in particular,” I announce. She spins around, her eyes wide and her lips parted as she watches me for a moment.

  “I couldn’t,” she whispers.

  Shrugging a shoulder, I don’t look anywhere but at her. “You can and you will. Unless you want to get another place, one together.”

  Tears well in her eyes, but they don’t fall. She blinks them back, clearing her throat. “You’re offering far too much, Salvatore. Seriously.”

  “And I’ve already told you, seriously, that we’re partners now. Even if nothing happens romantically between us, you’re still my wife, Rosana.”

  She licks her lips, nodding her head once, but I don’t think that she’s buying anything that I’ve said.

  “Go on and get dressed. You can make room for your things in the bedroom tomorrow while I’m at the office.”

  “I can take the guest room,” she says softly.

  Shaking my head once, I clear my throat. “I’ll take the guest room if it will make you more comfortable. But you should have the master, there’s more room in there for you.”

  I don’t want to take the goddamn guest room. I don’t want either of us to be in the guest room, but I understand that she probably isn’t ready to sleep next to a man she hardly knows.

  Turning away from her, I walk over to her bags and pick them up again before I head toward the master bedroom. She doesn’t try to stop me, to talk to me, and I’m glad for that.

  Setting her bags down on the bed, I turn around to leave her alone, but she’s standing right behind me. Her eyes are wide and her lips are parted.

  “I can’t kick you out of your room,” she states.

  Taking a step toward her, I lift my hand, touching the end of her nose with the tip of my finger. “You’re not kicking me out of anywhere. This room is yours. I’ll sleep across the hall for now, nothing to worry about, bambola.”

  Leaving her alone, I don’t wait to see if she has anything to say. She can have the master, for now. We’re strangers and I want her to feel comfortable with me and in this home. She has had enough happen to her recently, she doesn’t need my morning wood poking against her ass every day, too.

  Making my way into my office, I tug my phone out of my pocket and make a call to Gavino. The phone doesn’t ring one full time before he picks up.

  “This is fucking bullshit,” he snaps.

  “So you’ve figured out who Miguel is, I take it?”

  He snorts. “Yeah, I’ve fuckin’ figured it out,” he growls.

  “He’s the son of the president, he’s second-in-command of the Libertad group.”

  I don’t pretend like I haven’t heard of this gang. I have. They’re Puerto Rican and they’ve been around for a while, though fairly new compared to us. They’re rough, ruthless, and apparently after us and our territory.

  “Why is this shit always about territory? We don’t go into their domain, why are they in a big fucking hurry to infiltrate ours? And this way, by using innocents? What the actual fuck?” I demand.

  I may be part of the Zanetti famiglia, I’m Made, but I am not in the middle of their business. I take care of legal shit, I do not involve myself in the day-to-day operations.

  My father always told me to keep my nose out of the particulars, do what I’m told, and try to keep everyone out of jail.

  “I don’t know,” Gavino mumbles. “I don’t know, but we are not going to let them fuck with us. Not today, not ever.”

  “Is Rosana safe?” I ask.

  There is a moment of silence, then he finally speaks. “Today, yes. When they find out where she is and whose baby that is she carries? No.”

  Lifting my hand, I place my elbow on the desk and cup my forehead. “Fuck,” I hiss.

  Gavino doesn’t say anythin
g right away. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself down. I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen, but I cannot let anything happen to Rosana or to her baby—our baby.

  She may not believe that this relationship will be real, but I know that it will, eventually. I also know that child is mine. She is my wife, and she’s carrying our child. Blood means nothing, because famiglia means everything.

  “We’ll take care of it. You just take care of her. I’ll have men at your disposal, just like for Maci.”

  Opening my eyes, I clear my throat. “Not good enough,” I state. He doesn’t say anything and I imagine his face turning red with anger, so I quickly continue. “I want a guard on her. One that she can get to know and trust. She’s my wife, Gavino.”

  “Fair enough. You’re an important person not only in my life, but in the famiglia as well. That is a fair demand. I’ll send a trusted man over tomorrow. You’ll be taking the day off, yes?”

  I haven’t cleared my schedule, but there’s nothing happening tomorrow that I can’t do at home, with my wife, or just plain put off for another day.

  “Yes, I’ll take the day. I was hoping to send Rosana shopping for the day, maybe with Pippa, maybe someone else. She has nothing. We went today after the ceremony and got her a few things to last her until she can get what she wants.”

  Gavino chuckles. “Shopping. The bane of ever Made Man’s existence. Careful, they’ll break the bank and you’ll let them.”

  I join in his laughter because I know as well as he does that it would never happen, nor would either of us allow it to. Also, he would sell everything he owned to ensure that Luciana had whatever she desired. Thinking about Rosana, I would do the same without a doubt.

  ROSANA

  The dress looks exactly the way that I thought it would. It’s gorgeous. It’s a deep blue silk fabric with a sheen. It has spaghetti straps and a deep sweetheart-style neckline in front. The back is just two thin straps and exposes everything, barely covering my ass crack. It’s short, hitting at mid-thigh.

  My shoes, those are my true statement. I may wear them tomorrow night for dinner with Pippa, too. They’re that gorgeous. They are a pair of high-heeled Jimmy Choo sandals. There is a thin strap across my foot, and then a clasp wrapping around my ankle.

  Every part of the shoe that is exposed is covered in clear Swarovski crystals and from the ankle strap down the entire top of my foot hangs white ostrich feathers.

  They are amazing.

  I didn’t need them. Usually, I’m one for an expensive but practical shoe. These are not practical and Salvatore pretty much forced me into getting them, and I’m not the least bit mad about it. They are spectacular.

  Gathering my small clutch, I inhale a deep breath and take another look at myself in the mirror, but this time, I don’t look at my clothes. This time, I look at my face—into my eyes. I tilt my head to the side, searching my own gaze and I notice something.

  I don’t know if I should be alarmed, I probably should, but what I notice doesn’t concern me as much as it probably should.

  I look at peace.

  I’m not sure why, and I have no doubt that it will creep back in, but the fear that I saw in my gaze this morning is gone. I know that it has something to do with Salvatore. He makes me feel safe, protected, and beautiful.

  I’m sure that I shouldn’t have any feelings toward him at all, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling all kinds of things. The way he looks at me, as if he doesn’t know whether to lock me up and hide me or wrap his arms around me and pull me close.

  The simple sweet touches that he gives me, they send my body into a frenzy. I need to stay far away from him, it could be very easy to fall for my husband if I’m not careful.

  Clearing my throat, I shake my head and turn away from the mirror before I head back into the living room in search of said husband.

  Husband.

  It’s weird, but at the same time, it feels completely normal. He doesn’t feel like the stranger he probably should. Instead, he’s just Salvi, my husband.

  Maybe it’s as it always should have been, I’m not sure, but I can’t worry about it too much because focusing on it will cause my head to spin and I just need to take one second at a time right now.

  Once I’m in the living room, I look around for Salvatore, but I don’t see him anywhere. Frowning, I decide to go in search of him. I don’t know where anything is in his condo, but I know that he can’t have gone far.

  There is a door slightly ajar down the hallway, so that is the first place that I go. Once I’m in front of the door, I lift my hand and knock. I hear him clear his throat, then call out for me to come inside.

  He’s sitting at his desk, his gaze focused on a computer screen as he clicks away. “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I hum, looking around the space. He has bookshelves that line two walls and a window that takes up a third completely.

  If the sun were out, I could imagine the room being bright and cheery—opposite of the black bookshelves and dark wooden desk. A contradiction just like Salvatore himself.

  “I am,” I say, hoping that he’ll look up at me. He doesn’t. He’s on his computer, completely focused on whatever it is that he’s doing.

  I watch him for a long moment, taking him in. He’s handsome. Very handsome. He has thick dark hair, olive-toned skin, and just enough stubble that I know it’s intentional, but he makes it look as if he’s just forgotten to shave a few days in a row.

  His suit fits him as if he had it made specifically for him, and he probably did. His shoes are leather and expensive. His brow is furrowed as he concentrates, and I lick my lips as I watch his fingers move on his keyboard. They’re long and strong, and it makes me think of another thing that very well could be long and strong. I don’t know that I’ll ever find out, except, he is my husband and I know for a fact that couples in this world do not divorce.

  He finishes up whatever he’s doing and I watch as he powers his computer down before gathering his phone off his desk and rising to his feet. He lifts his head to finally look in my direction and freezes, half bent over his desk, his phone halfway in his pocket.

  “Rosana,” he breathes.

  “It was a silly purchase, it probably won’t even fit me next week. We can take it back,” I say on a whisper.

  He doesn’t say anything, his silence fills the room as he straightens and he closes the distance between us. I don’t move, my body frozen solid watching his approach, I even hold my breath. Only when he’s directly in front of me do I let out the breath that I’d been holding.

  He stops directly in front of me, almost close enough for me to feel his heat, definitely close enough for me to smell him. He smells like sandalwood mixed with something else, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I want to put my tongue all over it.

  Inwardly, I chastise myself for even thinking that way. I cannot think of Salvatore that way, it is wrong. He’s doing this as a favor to me, to protect me. That’s all this is, right? Protection? My breaths come out in short pants and I lift my gaze to meet his.

  He is grinning down at me, but his eyes are a whole shade darker than their usual deep honey color. They’re almost black as he watches me.

  “Food, bambola.”

  “Yes,” I exhale. “Food.”

  Chapter Five

  SALVATORE

  The goddamn Libertad. Of course, Rosana would end up with one of them, he would screw her over, and she would be sitting across from me looking good enough to eat. Not being able to touch her has been the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time.

  Typically, I pride myself on self-control, but with her, I’m on the goddamn edge. I’m trying to be a decent fucking human, but my cock aches and my body is screaming for me to throw decency out the window and fuck her right here on the table next to the pasta and bread.

  “I’ve called Massimo, set up a dinner,” I announce as I clear my throat.

  Her eyes widen and she lifts them to meet mine
from over the top of her glass of water. Stupidly, I offered to buy her a glass of wine to celebrate. I admit, I know absolutely nothing about pregnancies or babies, I’m going to make a shit partner and father, of that I’m absolutely sure.

  “Did you tell him?” she asks, placing her glass back down on the table.

  Shaking my head, I scoop up some chicken parm on my fork. “I didn’t. Said I wanted to talk to him and Pippa about something personal. He thinks I’ve chosen a bride.”

  “Haven’t you?” she asks, arching a brow.

  My lips curve up into a grin as I watch her for a long moment. “Indeed, I have, Rosana.” Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “Do you like your ring? I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

  I don’t know why it fucking matters. It’s not like I put any time or effort into choosing it. I walked into the famiglia jewelry store, talked to Tony and told him I wanted the biggest one he had and to send the bill to my office.

  Zero fucking effort.

  Rosana lifts her hand, placing it on the table, then looks down at her ring finger and wiggles it a bit before she looks back at me. Her lips are curved up into a small smile and I really hope that means she likes it.

  “It’s gorgeous, but huge,” she says on a small laugh.

  “Hard to pick a ring in five minutes,” I say, joining her in laughter.

  She hums, stabbing her ravioli before slipping it between her lips. Fuck me, but I still want those lips wrapped around my cock. She has my last name now and I should be able to do that, but I won’t. Fuck. I won’t do that either.

  “It is, but you did a good job, even if it’s gigantic.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll be home for the day. Gavino is going to set you up with a personal guard, but I won’t go into the office until that’s done. I’ll take you shopping,” I announce.

  Her eyes widen and she blinks a few times before her tongue sneaks out and she licks the corner of her lips. Seeing her tongue, even just the tip, has my cock half-mast and craving more. This is going to be a long goddamn lifetime if we never have sex.