Ruthless Saint: An Arranged Marriage Romance (DeSantis Mafia Book 1)

by S. Massery

  She shrugs. I haven’t released my hold on her chin, and at this rate, I don’t think I will.

  “He tried to touch me, so I stabbed him in the hand. And I yelled at Mariella for letting it happen. She needs to hold the men in her family accountable. How would they like it if someone touched her and got away with it?”

  I almost kiss her. Almost. I have to bat down the pride that threatens to erupt in my chest, and now I do release her. She doesn’t move from my lap, though.

  “I’m so fucking proud of you,” I say, choking on my laugh. “Goddamn, I would’ve liked to have seen that.”

  She beams. “I was scared shitless, but it worked out. It was either that or shoot him…”

  “Oh, well, glad you didn’t do that.” Honestly, it would make the surprise I have for her next week that much more difficult to obtain.

  She glances at the headstone again. “I think your mom would’ve done something about it, if it had been her family. She stood up to Jameson, didn’t she? She didn’t keel over and have an abortion, like Wilder made Mariella. She had the strength to have you—and lose you, over and over again.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” I murmur. “Thank you for that new perspective. And… you’ve made me realize something.”

  She cocks her head. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t want to be like my father. Hell, I’d love nothing more than to stay out of New York City for the rest of my life. My mother was the strong one. She was happy when she was surrounded by family.” And you’re my family, I almost say. I can’t quite voice it.

  What if she isn’t ready to hear it?

  All I need is Amelie, and a life that will fill both of us. Freedom. Joy. I can see it, but it isn’t enough. I want to reach out and take it with both hands.

  She puts her hands on my shoulders and uses me to force herself up, then offers her hands to me. “I think we should come back here,” she says suddenly. “It’s peaceful.”

  I take her hands but don’t pull on her to stand. I just like touching her and watching the tiny shivers run up her spine at the contact.

  “I’d like that,” I say. “Are you hungry?”

  She grins. “You don’t even have to ask.”

  And that’s that. I mentally go through the checklist in my head, wondering if I’ve missed anything. I’m sure I’m missing a whole hell of a lot, but I’ll take what I can work with.

  Everything is falling into place.

  35

  Amelie

  Today is a big day.

  There’s nothing distinctly pointing to its grandness, except a nervous fluttering in my belly. And Luca’s mysterious absence, up until this morning. I woke to a note on my pillow, folded into the shape of a swan. Its wing said, Open me. Inside was instructions to meet him at the harbor.

  I suppress the emotions that threaten to block my throat. If I think about him in my room, watching me sleep, my heart skips. The origami note is uncharacteristically cute, but I can’t help but think it means something bigger than just… meeting him at the harbor.

  We’ve been talking about taking Paloma’s boat out on the water for a few days.

  So… it could just be that.

  Still, I take extra long in the shower, shaving and scrubbing myself raw. My routine seems to double in length, but finally, I slip on a strapless dress. It’s white, form-fitting against my breasts and down to my waist, then it flares out and falls to my knees. It’s one of my favorite new purchases. The fabric is silky to the touch and flows out around me if I spin.

  Anyway, today seems fitting for it.

  He hasn’t tried to kiss me since taking me to the church gazebo, but we’re closer. He finds reasons to touch me at the restaurant. His hand trailing across my shoulder or waist when he passes, our fingers brushing any time he hands me a glass or plate.

  Little moments that elicit goosebumps over my skin.

  The summer has crept up on us, and tourist season seemed to spring out of nowhere. The restaurant has been busier than ever, with our fair share of English speakers. It seems that the hole-in-the-wall anonymity has faded. And rightly so: they deserve the success.

  Someone rings the bell at my garage door.

  I swipe on a pale-pink lipstick and slip it into my purse, then hurry downstairs. Parked against the curb is a small white car. Ricardo rolls down the window and waves to me. “We’re going to be late!”

  I shake my head. “What, Luca didn’t want to pick me up on his bike?”

  We’ve taken a few rides on it, thankfully when I was better prepared with my clothing. Nothing crazy, though, and the nights always ended idling at the curb, just as Ricardo’s car is now.

  “Are you joining us?” I climb in and slam the door shut. He’s dressed nicely—another indication that I’m right. I enjoy being right, but today… I don’t know. It’s a bit like an impending storm. There’s electricity in the air.

  He smiles. “You want me to?”

  I shift. “It depends on what we’re doing.”

  He chokes on his laugh, then pulls away from the curb. “Do you want to hear how I met Luca?”

  My curiosity kicks into gear. They’ve never volunteered more information than was necessary. Ricardo rarely talked about his family, so I just assumed he was sort of roped into this by circumstance. “Absolutely.”

  He lets his arm hang out of the window. “I was twelve. Luca thirteen. My family was quite poor, desperate for any sort of job. It got so bad that my parents told my siblings and me that we needed to work, too. My mother brought me to Paloma’s restaurant and asked if they would take me on.” He goes quiet for a moment, maybe reliving it. “I’m pretty sure Antonio and Paloma were going to say no, but then Luca comes out of the back. He came right up to them and said if we needed the money, it was their duty to help us.”

  I cross my arms to keep from reaching out. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up like that, unsure of anything—a meal, electricity, the roof over their head.

  “He convinced them. Once they managed to get me to talk about what was going on at home, they took care of us. But I still feel that loyalty to him, you know? He saved my life without even realizing it, and then he stuck with me.”

  “You mean a lot to each other.” Their friendship isn’t clear-cut, but I’ve been putting the pieces together over the last few weeks.

  “Yes.”

  I smile. “I don’t think I ever had a conversation with Luca until my wedding day. He and Aiden were kept away—it wasn’t really necessary for me to have a relationship with him when I was supposed to marry Wilder.”

  Ricardo shakes his head. “You got lucky.”

  I’m surprised to agree with him. Even after everything we’ve gone through… I think I’ve forgiven him. That was one of the choices I could’ve imagined myself railing against. There was no way I could forgive him after what he did.

  But he apologized. He’s here. He set me free.

  I’ve been lighter than I’ve ever felt in my life, but that untethered, free-floating sensation has gradually disappeared. I’m not lost anymore.

  “Here we are,” Ricardo says, coasting to a stop at the marina gate. “Go on now.”

  I glance at him, but he just shoos me out. The gate swings open under my fingertips, and I go by memory across the docks. It’s a bit of a maze, but I smile at a white balloon tied to the corner, a paper with an arrow leading me to the right final dock.

  Luca stands beside La Bellezo, waiting for me.

  I tilt my head, trying to figure out what’s different. It isn’t the white linen shirt, or his tan pants. It isn’t his fresh haircut.

  It’s the look in his eyes.

  Love.

  I see it so plainly, my heart breaks. I almost stop walking, trip over my feet, and fall into the water. I didn’t think I would recognize it, but my heart beats harder, and I know—I know that this is it. It swirls in my chest like its own little lightning storm, waiting to burst out.
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  A reciprocation.

  “Hi,” I say, immediately shy. I tip my head back and meet his gaze. “This seems fancy.”

  “I want today to be special.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

  “Because I have something for you.” He grins and takes my hand, and for a moment I think, this is it.

  But he doesn’t get down on one knee—he doesn’t present a ring.

  Instead, he lays an envelope on my open palm.

  “What’s this?” My fingers close around the paper, and I tear it open carefully. For a split second, I wonder if he lied and had filed the marriage certificate. But it’s not—it’s a letter from the Italian government, approving my long-term visa application. I hurry to read the rest of it, not quite understanding. I don’t know how he managed to do this without my knowledge, although I suppose all it would’ve taken was my passport and an application. At the bottom of the form, it says that Paloma and Antonio have vouched for me.

  “I wanted to give you the option of staying here,” he says. “There’s a lot of Italy left to explore, since you’re here on a tourist visa right now… But after it’s done, I thought you might like to stay. I was born here, so I have dual citizenship, but you…”

  I glance around. The boat, the water, Luca. He wants to live here.

  The dreams he said he had, of me and our future, suddenly come to life in my mind. My chest tightens, and I reach for him. Because I think I’d be perfectly happy living here. Paloma and Antonio are more affectionate parental figures than my own, and Luca…

  Luca is family.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He clasps my outstretched hand.

  “One more thing.”

  Now Luca lowers himself down on one knee and shows me a familiar ring. He fiddles with it, then looks up at me. “You told my aunt, when you gave this back to her, that I should save it for someone who I’ll treat with respect. I can’t emphasize how right you were to give it back.”

  “Luca—” My heart.

  “I’ve apologized for my grievous misconduct,” he continues. “I will continue to apologize. And learn. You’ve given me so much of yourself. You’re unfailingly brave, even in the face of terrible odds. You’re kind. You know how to push my buttons, and I think you’ve figured out my family’s, too. You are the woman I will cherish for the rest of my life, because I’m in love with you.”

  Tears fill my eyes.

  “Will you marry me, Amelie?”

  My breath hitches. This is an honest question. The most important question of my life, and it’s my decision. As soon as I realize that, everything snaps together. There are no more bars holding me hostage. No more rules about what to say or how to behave. We’re free of the DeSantis obligation here, and Luca’s created a future for us where we don’t have to return.

  His expression wobbles.

  I do love him. It’s lodged deep in my soul, this warmth that spreads across my skin. It’s an armor all of its own.

  “I love you, too,” I answer. “And absolutely, I want to marry you. Yes.”

  I hold out my hand, and he catches my fingers. He kisses each one, then slides the ring on. It… it’s a perfect fit. I stare at it, amazed. It was loose last time—which means this has been planned well in advance.

  He rises and kisses me soundly, tipping me back. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, opening my mouth. This kiss sends shoots of pleasure down to my toes.

  “To the newly engaged couple!”

  We part just before the kiss gets deeper, and my cheeks heat. Luca’s eyes are dark, trained on my face. I glance around us.

  The boats surrounding Paloma’s are covered in people that seemed to come out of nowhere. I spot Mariella on one, sitting beside Ricardo. She raises a champagne glass to me. The people around us are all familiar faces from the restaurant, from the shops we frequent.

  “Come aboard?” Luca asks me, offering his hand once again.

  I take it, and he steadies me. We step on at the back and follow a walkway to the front deck. There is a bottle of champagne with two glasses. It’s already poured, the white foam of a freshly poured glass just kissing the rim. I consider that odd until someone appears from inside, a glass in her hand.

  Paloma.

  Antonio is right behind her, grinning. They both clink their flutes against mine and Luca’s, and then Paloma wraps me in a hug.

  “He was a fool, but boys often are before they shed their youth and transform into men,” she says in my ear. “It takes a strong woman to see before, and still want the after.”

  I chuckle, hugging her tightly with one hand. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Nonsense.” She withdraws and pats my cheek. “You brought hope back into my world. And for that, I’m immensely thankful. You always have a home in Sanremo.”

  “And Italian lessons,” Antonio adds. He hugs me.

  My grin widens. Any more, and my face might split in two. “Looking forward to it.”

  “Okay, okay,” Luca urges. “We’re taking her out.”

  “Me?”

  “The boat.” Paloma chuckles. “And we’re going. Should I assume you won’t be back tonight, Luca?”

  “Right.” I take a large swallow of the champagne and try not to think about the fact that she knows what Luca and I will probably get up to. I mean, unless he plans on remaining celibate. That’s a possibility.

  He meets my gaze, and the fieriness of it sends heat straight to my core. “I don’t think I will,” he says to her, although he doesn’t look away from me.

  We’re caught in a staring contest as Paloma and Antonio disembark, their laughter floating back to us.

  “Just us,” he says to me, tipping his head toward the stern. “Come and sit while I take you out to sea.”

  “You know, um, how to drive?”

  He grins. “Of course.”

  I follow him to the top deck where he took me the first time. I take a seat, then watch as he pulls ropes loose down below, freeing us from the dock. He returns and fires up the motor. The air is unusually still, and he navigates us out of the marina with no trouble.

  The water out here is a stunning turquoise. I stand and go back down, creeping to the front to kneel at the most forward spot. We’re not going fast, and it seems like this area is still protected from harsh waves. But what little wind we generate sweeps my hair back, and I relax into it. The firm netting beneath me lets water spray up, and I retreat just a bit.

  We leave the protected alcove and follow the shoreline east. Eventually, Luca kills the engine. He calls to me, and I climb the stairs back to where he sits. There’s a series of clanks as the anchor drops.

  “Now what?” Sudden anticipation twists my stomach into knots.

  “Come here.” He spins slowly in the captain’s chair.

  He probably means his lap… but I have a different idea.

  I sink to my knees between his legs and bite my lip. His fingers tighten on the arms of the chair, but he says nothing to stop me. I unbuckle his pants, finagle the zipper, and slide my hand in. I grasp him, and his cock hardens in my grip. I free it, running my hand lightly up and down.

  “God,” he groans.

  I smirk and lean forward, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. I take him in my mouth and suck, bobbing up and down. He doesn’t grab the back of my head. His hands stay glued to the leather chair. I cup his balls, and his hips jerk up.

  “Come here,” he says, firmer. He drags me up.

  I release him and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, but that’s all I have time for before his lips are on mine. His tongue sweeps into mine, and that electrical storm in my chest doubles in intensity. He catches my lower lip in his teeth, tugging, and I moan. I climb on his lap, flinging the skirt of my dress out of the way, and press against him.

  He moves down my neck, sucking and biting my throat. My body burns for him. His erection brushes my damp panties, so close. I reach between us, feeling him again, and
move the thin fabric aside.

  He grasps my hips as I rise slightly, positioning him. His teeth latch on to the space between my neck and shoulder, and I lower myself. His length enters me, and we both exhale. I stay there for a moment, letting the feel of him inside me just be enough.

  But it isn’t for long.

  He slides the top of my dress down, exposing my pale breasts. I roll my hips forward and lift. He pinches my nipple.

  “God, you feel good.” He jerks his hips up.

  “I need this off.” I yank at his shirt until he leans forward slightly. It allows me to pull it off, and I toss it behind us.

  “This, too, then,” he says.

  I raise my arms, and he sweeps the dress off in one motion.

  He places me on my feet, then stands, as well. He kicks off his pants and boxers, then kneels before me. He lowers my panties off my hips, kissing just above my small strip of hair.

  I use his shoulder for balance to step out of my underwear, and then he rises. He catches my thighs in his grip, propelling me over his shoulder. I squawk when he stands upright, and his palm lands on my ass. He kneads it for a moment, then carries me down the stairs, through the kitchen area, and to the bedroom below deck.

  He sets me down on the bed.

  I glare up at him. “What was that for?”

  He smirks. “I think you like this side.”

  “What side is that?”

  “The side where I manhandle you.” He lifts his chin. “Crawl backward.”

  I eye him, but I can’t deny the excitement that flushes my body. I scoot back on my hands and feet until my shoulders bump the back wall.

  “Put your wrists through the loops, Amelie. Tighten it with your teeth.”

  I glance over my shoulder. There’s a rope hanging there, anchored just above my head. I can’t deny that this is turning me on, and I trust him not to hurt me. I slip my hands in and bite the rope, yanking it until it’s tight against my skin.

  He climbs over me, checking it. It loosens a fraction.

  I stare up at him. He’s straddling me, his heavy erection resting between my breasts. I lick my lips, gaze moving from it to his face.