Waiting for my Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Cates, Georgia

  “Viv wasn’t happy when she found out that you’d taken Emilia before marriage, but she’s going to forget all about that when she finds out there is a baby on the way. Emilia isn’t very far along, I hope?”

  “No one will know that she didn’t become pregnant on our wedding night.”

  “Assure your mother of that when you tell her. You know how she worries.”

  “I’ll make sure she understands.”

  “A grandchild. I can’t believe it.”

  “A grandson.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do.” I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just something I feel in my core.

  “A Rossini boy—that would be wonderful.”

  “I didn’t think it was possible after the start we had, but things are good between Emilia and me. I think we have a chance at being happy together.”

  “That’s because Emilia is your destiny. She always has been.”

  The wedding planner beckons us with her finger. “Time to take your places.”

  The time is finally here, and this ceremony will make it official. Emilia and I will be bound to one another until only death can part us. That’s exactly the way I want it.

  My father, brothers, and I take our designated spots in front of the wedding guests. I rest one hand over the other and breathe steadily as I watch Emilia’s bridesmaids walk the aisle, taking their places opposite us. Bellini sisters on one side and Rossini brothers on the other. It’s exactly the way I always imagined it.

  I look at the faces of our guests and wonder how many of them sitting on the bride’s side would like to kill me right now. The majority, I presume, if not all. I bet a few of them have even had discussions about how to make that happen.

  With the bridal march playing, Sofia’s eldest brother escorts my bride down the aisle. The long train of her dress drags behind her, gliding over the rose petals that have been dropped by two flower girls, both her young Bellini cousins.

  I see her and I’m overjoyed. But also regretful because it should be Alessandro giving Emilia to me. Her father walking her down the aisle to be given in marriage is a special moment that I stole from her, and she’ll never get that back.

  Her dress is white lace from the edge of her collarbone all the way down to her feet. With her lace veil mostly concealing her face, she’s the perfect image of what a virginal Catholic bride should look like. But I wish I could see her face. Or at least her eyes. Maybe then I could see how she’s feeling as she comes forward to join herself with me forever.

  I want Emilia to be happy… happy with me. That’s what I’ve always wanted for her, and I’m going to work every day to make that a reality.

  “Sofia Bellini, do you consent and gladly give your daughter Emilia to Luca Rossini?” the priest asks.

  “I do.” Sofia says the words, but her tone is less than convincing.

  Sofia’s brother, Riccardo, briefly whispers something in her ear before passing her hand to me.

  “Be good to her, Rossini. She deserves that.”

  “She’s going to be treated like a queen.”

  “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  I lift the veil from her face, and our eyes meet for the first time. To my surprise and joy, she smiles.

  “You look beautiful.”

  Her voice is soft and low. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  Taking a deep breath, my fingers close around Emilia’s. Exhilaration pumps wildly through my veins because this day has finally come. I have her, and I’ll never let her go.

  But it isn’t that simple. I have work to do if I’m to convince her that she wants to be mine.

  I want Emilia to love me.

  As husband and wife, we will share a sacred bond. My loyalty to her will be unwavering. The trust I place in her will be like none I’ve ever given before.

  This isn’t a normal relationship at all. It’s anything but ordinary.

  It’s everything.

  We are allies. We are consorts. We are one.

  My allegiance belongs to Emilia Bellini Rossini.

  I would kill for her.

  I would die for her.

  There’s no one in the world she can trust more than me. Her husband.

  The ceremony begins, a Catholic wedding mass because it’s what she wants. Me? I would have been fine without all the singing and reading and praying and kneeling. It all seems unnecessary to me. Let’s say some vows, exchange some rings, kiss, and call ourselves husband and wife.

  And eventually we do.

  “You may now exchange a kiss,” the priest says.

  I’m tempted to sweep her backward and kiss the hell out of her, but she asked me not to. She wants this public kiss to appear as though it’s our first. As though we don’t share a bed every night. As though she isn’t already carrying my child in her belly.

  I find it entertaining that my bride wants to play the part of the innocent Catholic virgin when I know her to be a sexy-as-hell vixen who enjoys being fucked against the wall in a disco club.

  “Only a small kiss. You promised,” she whispers when I lick my lips.

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  I reach for her face and cradle the sides before placing the softest, most innocent-looking kiss against her lips. “It’s done. You’re finally my wife, Mrs. Rossini.”

  “I am.”

  I don’t know who all we’ve prayed to during our wedding mass, but one thing is for sure. Our marriage is official.

  I help Emilia with her dress and veil as we get into the black limo waiting for us at the curb outside the chapel.

  “Did you notice that the church didn’t go up in flames with me in it?”

  She smiles and giggles. “I was so sure it would.”

  “See? I’m not the devil after all.”

  “I’m not so sure I’m convinced of that.”

  “Maybe I’ll convince you in time.” I reach into my jacket and remove the ring box in my pocket. “Your devil-husband has something for you.”

  I open the box and take out the newly forged ruby ring identical to the ones worn by Mom and Zee Zee. “This ring signifies your place within the family. One look at this on your finger and anyone from our world will know exactly who you are.”

  I take her right hand, sliding the ring on her middle finger, and then I kiss it. “You are my queen.”

  She looks at the ring on her finger. “Your queen,” she whispers.

  I’ve waited so long for her, and now she’s mine. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to do whatever it takes to make her happy.

  25

  Emilia Rossini

  “Ah, alas, my daughter is a Rossini.” She clicks her tongue. “A dreaded Rossini.”

  “Not just a Rossini wife. A Rossini queen.” I lift my hand, showing my mother the ring Luca placed on my finger. “He says that anyone from our world who sees it on my hand will know exactly who I am.”

  My mother takes my hand and inspects the ring. “It’s identical to Viviana’s and Zorah’s. This is very significant because the only way he would have given this to you is if you mean something special to him.”

  I hold out my hand, looking at the ring. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “I don’t want to know everything you had to do in order to make him believe you’re worthy of this ring. Whatever it is, you’ve done an excellent job.”

  Is my pregnancy not the first clue? “You know what I’m doing to make him happy.”

  “I do, darling, and it makes me sick to think about it. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you when you lie with him.”

  It feels pretty damn good, actually. “I somehow manage to get through it.”

  “Just like you somehow got through the wedding ceremony today. You did very well. I myself almost believed that you are a happy bride.”

  “The kiss appeared as though nothing more has ever passed between us?”

  “It was very c
onvincing.”

  “He did exactly as I asked.”

  “Don’t give him too much credit. It’s not in his best interests to flaunt your physical relationship in front of the five families.”

  I shrug. “I know.”

  “Never forget that Luca Rossini will always choose to do what benefits him most. You will never come first in his life.”

  Maybe not but our son will. I already see how much Luca wants him. How much he loves him. And I am our son’s mother. Some portion of his love for our child will extend to me. How can it not when our son will be half me?

  “The upside to this is that you’re pregnant. You’ve done the work, so now you won’t have to have sex with him anymore.”

  Umm… no, that’s not going to work for Luca. “I’m his wife. He’s going to expect sex from me.”

  My mother rolls her eyes. “Tell him it could hurt the baby. He won’t know any different. He’ll go get sex somewhere else, and you’ll be left in peace.”

  I don’t want Luca to go get sex somewhere else.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sure he won’t touch me if he believes that it could harm our little Rossini prince.”

  The wedding planner waves, motioning for me to join her and Luca by the dance floor. “I’ve got to go. Susan needs me. We’ll talk later.”

  “Come, Emilia. It’s time for the first dance,” she says.

  Luca holds out his hand and leads me on to the dance floor. “What song did you choose for our first dance?”

  “‘You Needed Me.’”

  “Hmm. Don’t know that one, but the title sounds fitting. Because I do need you.”

  It’s not exactly my kind of music, but the song is becoming very popular at weddings. And since nothing about our marriage is typical, I thought it would be nice to have something that is traditional. “In an odd way, this song is very fitting for us.”

  We sway to the music as our guests look on. “How have you felt today?”

  “Didn’t sleep last night. Sick this morning. Tired all day. And my feet are killing me.”

  “Do I need to take you up to the suite?”

  We can’t leave our wedding reception. “We have so much to do: the toasts and speeches, dinner, cake cutting. We can’t leave yet.”

  “Doing those things won’t make us any more married than we are right now.”

  “I know, but everyone expects it.”

  “To hell with what everyone expects. Stress isn’t good for you or the baby. I don’t want you to overdo it.”

  “There will be plenty of time to rest later.”

  “Promise you’ll tell me if it becomes too much for you. I won’t hesitate to take you to the suite. To hell with what the guests think.”

  “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

  Our guests clap when the song ends, and we take our places at the bride and groom’s table. I’m not upset about getting to sit down for a while.

  “Take your shoes off and give me your feet. I’ll rub them during the speeches.”

  “You are not rubbing my feet at our wedding reception.”

  “I’ll do it under the table. No one will see me.”

  “How about I take you up on a foot rub later?”

  His brow lifts. “Well, that could be a problem since I’m going to be rubbing something other than your feet later.”

  Luca likes to talk dirty, and I enjoy pushing him to take it to the next level. “Tell me what you’ll be rubbing later. And how.”

  “I would love to, but my father is about to make his toast.”

  “All right. Later then.”

  “Definitely.”

  Marco steps on to the riser where the band is playing and takes center stage where a mic on a stand awaits. “Thank you for coming to celebrate this wonderful occasion, the joining of my son Luca with his beloved Emilia.”

  I think beloved is a stretch.

  “This has been a union that we’ve been looking forward to for many years. To give you an idea of how long, I’m going to share a story with you. Alessandro and Sofia invited our family over for dinner one night. Luca and Emilia were playing in her room, and things got quiet, a little too quiet, which is typically an indication of trouble. Sofia and Viv went to check on the children and found Emilia wearing one of her white dresses, and she had taken a pillowcase from the bed and turned it into a veil. The flowers she was carrying had been swiped from one of Sofia’s floral arrangements.” Marco laughs. “Emilia’s teddy bear had married them, and we missed the whole ceremony.”

  Our guests erupt into laughter and small fragments from the past begin to move to the forefront of my mind. One piece joins to another piece until the fragments become bigger.

  “I remember our pretend wedding.”

  “I thought you had no memory of me at all.”

  “I didn’t think I did, but hearing your father talk about it makes little pieces of the past come back to me.”

  “What do you remember about it?”

  “Most of what he described. And I kissed you on the mouth.”

  Luca nods. “You did.”

  “You didn’t want to play wedding because you were older. You thought it was stupid, but you gave in and let me have my way because you didn’t want me to cry.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly how it happened.”

  “And now we are married.”

  “By a priest this time. Not a teddy bear.”

  “And it isn’t pretend. Our marriage is real.”

  Toasts, speeches, dinner, cake cutting, dancing. It’s after ten, and there’s no sign of the reception letting up anytime soon. There’s far too much alcohol left for anyone to leave.

  “I think I’ve had enough. I’m ready to go to the suite.”

  “That’s all you have to say.”

  “I need to say goodbye to my family before we go. I won’t get another opportunity since we’re catching an early flight in the morning.”

  “Meet back here?”

  “Sounds good.”

  My mother is dancing with Luigi Gaspari, patriarch of the Gaspari family. And they look as though they aren’t having too shabby of a time.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Luca and I are leaving. I wanted to say bye.”

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Absolutely. Congratulations on your marriage, young lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why are you leaving? It’s still early.”

  “I’m tired and we have an early flight.” Plus, I already know that I’m going to be nauseated when I wake up. It’s a recipe for a miserable morning.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to travel in your condition?”

  “I’m barely pregnant. It’s fine.”

  “I’m your mother. I worry.”

  “You don’t have to worry. Luca will take care of me.” There are a lot of uncertainties in my life, but that isn’t one of them.

  “Only because he wants to take care of his son who happens to be inside of you. Never forget that.”

  “Either way, he’ll keep me safe. You don’t have to worry.”

  My mother puts her arms around me and squeezes. “I love you, Emilia, and I’m so proud of you for being this family’s hero.”

  I’m not a hero. Not even close. I’m something else entirely.

  The captive who longs for her captor.

  An angel who craves her devil.

  A queen who needs her king.

  A woman who wants to consummate her marriage.

  My heart pumps wildly as the elevator lifts us to the hotel suite we’re staying in tonight. The nervous jitters that I’m feeling are unexpected. I’ve slept with Luca many times, so I already know there’ll be no surprises waiting for me, but there’s something more to tonight than simply sex.

  Luca is my husband and I am his wife. Tonight consummates our marriage, and it also seals our union. It will bond me to him forever, both in the eyes of God and the five families.

&nb
sp; Death will be my only escape.

  He unlocks the door and swings it inward, holding it open with his foot. “Not the threshold of our home but it’ll do.” Scooping me into his arms, he carries me inside the suite and doesn’t return my feet to the floor until we’re inside the bedroom.

  Looking around, I take in the elegance of the room and smile when I see the rose petals on the bed. “This is beautiful. Did you do this?”

  “Not me. It was your sisters and cousins.”

  “What about the chocolate strawberries and champagne?”

  “I get to take credit for that.”

  “It’s too bad I can’t have champagne.”

  “I think it would be okay to have a sip during a toast with your new husband.”

  “I’ve already had several sips.” So many that I had to start fake-drinking while everyone was making toasts so I wouldn’t call attention to myself for forgoing alcohol. That would be a dead giveaway about my pregnancy.

  “One more won’t hurt.”

  Luca takes the bottle from the ice bucket and opens it with a loud pop. “That one had some power behind it.”

  He pours two glasses, handing one to me.

  “To my wife, Mrs. Rossini, the sexiest woman in the world who was worth two decades of waiting.” He hesitates, looking at me with such devotion in his eyes. “Believe me when I say that you are the most important thing in my life. You and our child. Never doubt that for a moment.”

  “I believe you.” And I do. But not because I think Luca loves me. His feelings are a result of a sense of duty.

  I drink a sip from the glass, and Luca takes it from me, placing it on the desk. “Turn around.”

  Gathering the skirt of my dress, I spin on my toes and stop when my back is facing Luca.

  “My ballerina bride.”

  “I’m not much of a ballerina anymore.”

  Luca’s hands move to the back of my dress. Beginning at the top, he pops each button, loosening my dress around my body.

  “Are you angry at me for taking your passion away from you?”

  “I was at first, but now I get to be a mother instead of a ballerina. How can I be angry about that?”

  “Will you train our daughters to dance?”