La Sposa

by Sienna Mynx

  He grabbed the front of her dress. In an attempt to get his hand on her throat his grip failed, and the material ripped all the way through to her bra, unsnapping the front enclosure. He struggled with her clumsily, unable to decide on whether to restrain her or snap her fucking neck. And then he lost his footing. Together, they fell and rolled with Marietta twisting free. She crawled away from him. He dragged her by her ankle and she kicked at him with her free leg, the heel of her shoe swiped him across the face. Lorenzo nearly howled with rage. He dragged her under him. To his surprise, she bit his shoulder and drove her knee up to plow into his groin, weakening him. He dropped over in pain. Marietta was quick about her next action. She was on top of him. The next thing he knew, he was looking up into the barrel of his own gun.

  Earlier, he slipped it to the side of the sofa cushion. Darkness threatened to collapse inward, stealing his vision. Lorenzo blinked several times. His eyes were aflame with raw hurt, but clarity was beginning to return. She straddled him with tight thighs that even now, after the hell-fight she put up, he found her exciting. Her breasts were on display with thick dark nipples and a trim flat waist. Her makeup smeared, but her eyes were narrowed into angry slits under lowered brows. She had a determined lethal look in her eye. He had underestimated this one. How the hell did he let her get his fucking gun?

  “From the day I arrived here, I have been treated like a joke. An irritant, a bastard, and now a fucking target!” She shouted into his face. Marietta trembled with rage. Her temples pounded thickly, her throat went dry, and her heart beat so fast it staggered her breathing. “I’m nobody’s fucking victim! Do you hear me? If you even blink at me I will put a hole in your skull.”

  “You know how to use that gun, Cara?” he asked. “You’ll need to release the safety before you make good on that promise.”

  She sniffed. Her thumb trembled as it pushed against the tiny lever to release the safety. But once done, her hands became steady again as she pressed the end of her gun to the crease between his brows. Her face grew hot with humiliation. His smile mocked her bravery. “Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

  Lorenzo smirked. “We all die eventually. Why fear the inevitable?”

  “Don’t make a move. I mean it. I’ll do it.

  Unfortunately her threat appeared to have little effect on him. The asshole even instructed her on how to use the gun. It was impossible to read anything but death and destruction beyond the hard glare fixated on her now. If he was so fearless, why did he remain deadly still? Was he curious, impatient, and a bit pissed off that she turned the tables on him? Whatever he was, he wasn’t what she’d hoped he’d be, scared.

  Lorenzo’s face was a scratched up bloody mess. His eyes had a waxy raw hurt look to them that turned the whites pink and made the skin beneath his lower lids a bit puffy. He had to be in a tremendous amount of pain from the scratches on his face, the bite she gave him on his shoulder, and her knee to his groin. But he didn’t even flinch. He lay there, as if he requested the lap dance with a gun to his head. She felt a twinge of sympathy for how badly things had progressed between them. Not enough to give up her advantage.

  “I know this looks bad. What you found. It looks bad okay? But I can explain,” Marietta began.

  “This isn’t America. Things are done differently here. Do you know who my family is? Who I am? You pull that trigger and a man much scarier than me will pay you a visit.”

  “È la vita.” Marietta sniffed and shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had a shitty hand dealt to me all my life. It happens. Here’s what you’re going to do. First, you need to understand I’m not your enemy.”

  “Davvero? You have a gun to my face,” Lorenzo chuckled. He put his hands behind his head and relaxed. Having him between her thighs as she straddled his waist put her at ease too. She felt a sense of control, though common sense warned her that it was false.

  Dammit.

  Why was she so messed up in the head that even now she could be turned on by a man who tried to take her life? There was so much pain in her, she didn’t own her emotions.

  “We want the same thing, Lorenzo. Answers. First, let me give you yours. See that paper over there?”

  His gaze dropped to the right.

  “Did you read it?”

  He returned his glare to her.

  “Of course you didn’t. You saw the cassette tape and then tried to snap my neck. Typical male testosterone bullshit. Fight first and think last. Get the damn letter! Read it!”

  Lorenzo removed his right arm slowly from behind his head. He never took his eyes off her. He reached and gripped the edge of the paper by two fingers and brought it over. He read it.

  “When I got that letter and cassette I thought I could leverage it, seduce you into telling me what I wanted to know. Whoever sent it to me said you had the answers I came to Italy for.”

  “It says Isabella sent it to you. Who is she?” Lorenzo asked.

  Marietta shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the truth.”

  “It’s not an answer. Who the fuck is Isabella to you? Enough games!”

  “I told you I don’t know,” she said, and the strain in her voice made it break between syllables. She cleared her throat to dispel any weakness. “It’s the only answer I can give. The real question is, who the hell is she to you!”

  Her quick wit got the reaction she wanted. The concentration lines along his brow deepened, and he focused intently on the letter once more. She then knew he struggled with the identity of this woman as she had for several hours before she ventured out to find him. Marietta raised the gun from his face and put both her hands up. In doing so, her breasts heaved upward, and she saw that he noticed. If he wanted to kill her, now was his chance. He however didn’t make an aggressive move. Possibly, this was their truce.

  “Now it’s time for you to trust me. I’m going to put this gun down. You be a good boy. Capisce?” She lowered the gun and then tossed it far from their reach. Marietta didn’t rise or make another move. What was the point? She sat upon him exposed. Her breasts, her shame, all of it was on display now. Nudity didn’t matter to her. Years of strip club performances had made her numb to the lustful ways men viewed her body. Tonight, the fight in her was gone. The truth was she needed an ally. Lorenzo read the letter once more, as if a third time would reveal something the first two hadn’t.

  “Does it hurt?” Marietta asked in a shaky breath. She wiped smeared tears and mascara under her eyes. His gaze shot back to her, and she was impaled by the flash of distrust there.

  “Your eyes. Do they burn?”

  She lifted her hand and then lowered it. She lifted it again and slowly reached to touch his face. She half expected him to knock her touch away. After all, she had put a beating on his face. There were three long scratches that stretched from his jaw to his neck. And on his left cheek, a bruise formed from a swift kick she delivered to his face. “I was defending myself. You came at me like a madman. What was I supposed to do?” He continued to stare. Marietta released a deep breath. “You should be okay though, it was just hairspray. I’ve gotten it in my eyes before.”

  Lorenzo narrowed his gaze on her.

  “If you flush your eyes, it will stop the burning. I can get you some water.” When she tried to rise, he dropped the paper and grabbed her by the thighs, forcing her back down. Pressing the limits of her virtue, she made no move to object to where he had repositioned her—on top of his dick. Between her thighs, pressed nicely up into her core, was his bulging hardness caged beneath his zipper. Marietta’s breathing began to slow. She remained still. If she moved, the friction would stir arousal she couldn’t mask on her face. She waited. His hard, strong hands became tender when he slowly rubbed her thigh, pushing her hem to her hips. Her breasts rose sharply as she drew in a breath. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

  “Baciami.” She told him to kiss her in a broken whisper. Their faces drew closer together and she could feel the fine threads of his shi
rt brush her sensitive nipples. His hands gripped her bare ass. She rarely wore panties, and he soon discovered that secret.

  “You want a kiss, love?” He said, his mouth inches from hers.

  She blinked into his face. “Desperately.”

  He heaved her up. And she went forward on her hands as he eased under her to bring her pussy flush to his mouth. He licked her pussy with soft slow strokes. “Oh God!” She cried out.

  He blew on her labia, then parted her butt cheeks to open her sex to him. He traced the tip of his tongue around her slick opening before plunging it deep. She tossed her head back with a startled cry of passion, arching her back and sitting on his face. Pleasure cut her to her core. And it was over. He dragged her down. “Now, about that kiss,” he said, gripping the back of her head and forcing her mouth down to his. Her heart quivered as their lips met. His kiss flowed through her sweet as warm honey. The stone at the center of her heart crumpled. She would settle for the sweet illusion of love that sex gave rather than her empty reality.

  “You taste so good, but I prefer your pussy.” Lorenzo rolled her beneath him. Deep breaths and little gasps of air escaped her sweet mouth as he devoured her through their kiss.

  “Please fuck me,” she begged through the kiss.

  “I intend to.” To support his weight and keep from crushing her beneath him, he balanced on his elbows. How could someone so crazily fierce become soft and vulnerable so easily?

  Every emotion felt was primal and desperate. He needed a release. He tore at her dress, ripping, shredding, as she clawed at his zipper and belt to free him. They fought against each other, both trying to accomplish the same goal.

  Seized by an insatiable lust, Lorenzo drove himself into her hard. He impaled her pussy before either of them could rethink their actions. For the moment she would be his, and his only. He’d leave her with no doubt. A sensual groan escaped her throat, and her body responded with just as much fire as expected. Hot wet warmth wrapped around his cock with her silken walls, and he could feel the muscles from his ass to the back of his thighs tighten. He broke contact with her lips to kiss her eyes, nose, cheek, and the sweet smelling curve of her neck as he pumped his cock hard and fast, in and out. He lifted his belly to look down to where their bodies joined. She felt so damn good, he became a bit light headed. But he maintained control, and she moved her ass and pussy in time with his rhythm. He continued to drive himself deep. Sweat broke out over her upper lip as he worked his hips at a steady yet frenzied pace, and felt her body grow feverish.

  Lorenzo stayed the course with his hips circling to keep pushing her to the edge, because he was already dangerously close. And when all the soft sexy curves beneath him became too much he dropped on her, and pounded his lust inside her so fast she couldn’t match his thrusts. The burn of his eyes cleared enough for him to look upon her face, twisted in pleasure. Her midnight black hair fanned out in thick curls. Her eyes squeezed shut. She clawed at his back and he winced, knowing those damn nails of hers had once again broken skin.

  Marietta’s legs cinched tighter around him, and her body went rigid with her release. It was the final straw. He broke. Hot waves of passion shot off a stream of his essence from his pistoning cock and he shattered. He nearly spoke words of love. Their union felt that close to heaven. He grunted with disillusionment, and a frown settled between his eyebrows. His head lifted from her shoulder, and he looked at her again. He wanted her, all of her, more of her, but why her? Withdrawing from her tightness, she moaned and tried to roll away, as she shuddered through the aftershocks of her climax. Lorenzo gave her no relief. He stood and pulled her by the arms, forcing her to half rise.

  She blinked up at him, confused. And he heaved her up into his arms and then lifted her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She didn’t fight him. He stepped out of his pants that were trapped at his ankles and carried her through the sunken living room, to the door he believed to be the bedroom.

  “Wha-what are you doing?” she wheezed.

  “We aren’t done, Cara. Not even close.”

  Once inside the bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him.

  *****

  “Happy New Year!” Mira shouted over the fireworks. The first kiss given was from her to the man of her heart. Giovanni heaved a crying Eve in his left arm, and pulled Mira closer with his right. They looked up at the sky as it exploded in lights of blue, yellow, red, green and white. Each blast left a fiery ring formation against the black sky. The Battaglias, along with friends of the family, cheered. Children of all ages ran around, chasing each other with sparkling sticks flaring and burning bright. From every window of the estate, glass and pottery, plates and cups were thrown.

  It would have been an awesome display of family and unity if it weren’t for the misery of their daughter. Mira knew she was sleepy, but Giovanni kept her up, insisting that she be with them to the bitter end. Now she had to put her mommy foot down. Mira tried to soothe Eve with her touch. Her daughter only screamed louder. Giovanni tried to calm her with kisses, and held her up for everyone to cheer at the precious bambina in their lives. The attention infuriated Eve more.

  “Giovanni, let me put her to bed. Give her to me.”

  Eve fought off Mira’s touch and clung to her father’s neck. She then went into a full blown tantrum and bucked against him.

  “Take her inside.” Mira shoved Giovanni, who now had a bottle of wine in his hand, and was shouting something to the other men who were grabbing their women and spinning them around or dancing. He finally did move, but others constantly jumped in and out of his face. Even kids who he was godfather to. “That’s it! We’re done for the night!” Mira announced.

  To her relief, he nodded in agreement. His hand clasped hers tightly, and he forced her to walk with him away from the celebrating. Mira spoke to a few people following them, wanting more of Giovanni’s attention. She bid them goodnight in Italian and kissed many cheeks before they finally got the hint, and fell away. At the bottom step to the elegant marble stairwell, Catalina rushed towards them. Her dark hair flowed behind her, and her eyes were weepy with fresh tears. Dominic followed her, but not in the same hurried fashion as Catalina. He looked nonplused.

  “Gio! Mira! Wait. Have either of you seen Lorenzo?”

  Mira took the bottle from Giovanni’s hand, recognizing he’d had too much to drink. She set it on the plant table near the stairs. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. He bounced Eve in his arms, trying to calm her. Their daughter sobbed miserably, with her face buried in his neck.

  “No I haven’t. Have you?” Mira asked.

  “He’s in Milan.” Giovanni answered.

  “I know, Domi said so! He should have been home by now,” she whined.

  Dominic walked over to join the conversation, or from the look on his face, to manage Catalina’s meltdown. Mira couldn’t decide which. Catalina looked as if she were on the verge of hysteria, which made no sense. Where Lorenzo chose to spend New Year’s Eve was his choice.

  “You two sent him to Milan on purpose!” Catalina hurled the accusation at Giovanni, and then Dominic. “How could you make him work today, of all days?”

  Mira didn’t understand her reaction and the guilt on Giovanni’s face. Dominic put a hand to Catalina’s back and explained the issue with hushed whispers to her ear. Was the whispering for her benefit? What was she missing from this?

  “It was his choice to leave. He gets depressed on his birthday, he went to Milan for the night and will be back in the morning.” Giovanni sighed.

  “Birthday?” Mira said under her breath. She searched Giovanni’s face for an answer. He continued to comfort Eve who now slept in his arms.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Mira asked.

  “Me? Typically, the women take care of him.” Giovanni glared at Catalina and then Mira. “I thought you would handle it.”

  Ignoring the nasty tone he used with her, Mira reached for Catalina’s hand. “We’ll do somethi
ng after the wedding tomorrow. Don’t be upset. He isn’t here by choice. He probably went out to celebrate.”

  The men exchanged a look that Mira didn’t understand. Lorenzo wasn’t Mira’s favorite of the family, but she knew he’d had a pretty lonely existence since Fabiana died. In fact, he just seemed like a difficult, lonely kind of guy. Which is why she worried so much when Fabiana gave her heart so freely to him. Catalina cursed under her breath and walked away. Dominic waited a beat. When Giovanni refused to acknowledge him, he turned on his heel and went after her.

  Mira touched Giovanni on the back and they started up the stairs.

  “Is something going on with Lorenzo I should know about?”

  “We don’t discuss Lorenzo’s problem with his birthday. If he wants to share the story he’ll tell you.” Giovanni said dryly. Surprised by his abrupt manner, she dropped the matter.

  “I wanted to ask about the locked rooms on the third level, the ones next to my sewing room. Is there a reason the staff hasn’t given me a key?”

  “There is. Those rooms are to remain locked. They belonged to my mother.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Once they reached the top of the stairs and walked through the hall, he passed Eve to Mira, and she proceeded into her daughter’s room. She would need to be careful as she undressed her for bed, to make sure she didn’t wake. She could hear him in the other room. Mira was quick about it.