Slowly, my muscles slackened. Aria’s breathing never hitched. It was calm, soft, her sleep unperturbed. No horrors in her past haunted her nights. Knowing what kind of man I was, I hoped her sleep would stay as innocent as it was.CHAPTER 7Something soft tickled my fucking nose. My eyes shot open, and I stared at hair the color of spun gold. I was spooning Aria’s small body, my arm wrapped around her narrow waist, and she was completely relaxed in my embrace. I had slept with her body against mine. I’d never let a woman sleep in my bed. I’d thought it would take months before I’d get a decent night of sleep now that I was forced to share a bed with my wife.
Fuck. Aria was my wife.
And still a fucking virgin.
I propped myself up on my elbow. She didn’t stir. Her pale eyelashes rested on her porcelain skin, lips slightly parted. Fucking perfection, that’s what she was.
Her stomach lifted and fell under my palm as she breathed peacefully. I could feel her warmth through the little nothing she was wearing. I wanted to slide my hand down between her legs, wanted to feel the heat there. Wanted to bury my fingers in her—and my cock. Fuck. My cock sprang to life.
I wanted to claim her, because it was my right.
She was mine.
My wife. And because of that. I wanted to protect her, even from myself—the hardest task of all.
Aria’s breathing changed, her stomach tightened under my palm, then her entire body stiffened. She was scared of me, of what I might do.
“Good, you’re awake,” I murmured.
She stiffened even further and, slowly, her eyes peeled open. Gripping her hip, I rolled her over so I could get a better look at her face. Even without a hint of makeup, with tousled hair and sleepy, Aria was stunning. Her eyes lingered on my chest, a blush spreading on her cheeks. While I’d never fallen asleep beside a woman, I’d spent more than enough time in bed with them, but for Aria, this was the first time she was so close to a man. The early morning sun let her hair glow in golden hues. I reached for a strand, marveling at the silkiness. Everything about her was soft, smooth, silky—beckoning to be touched, to be claimed.
“It won’t be long until my stepmother, my aunts, and the other married women of my family knock at our door to gather up the sheets and carry them into the dining room where undoubtedly everyone else is already waiting for the fucking spectacle to begin.”
Her blush deepened, acute embarrassment flickering in her eyes. The epitome of innocence, so different from me and yet at my mercy. She glanced down at the cut on my forearm.
I nodded. “My blood will give them what they want. It’ll be the foundation of our story, but we’ll be expected to fill in the details. I know I’m a convincing liar, but will you be able to lie to everyone’s faces, even your mother’s, when you tell them about our wedding night? Nobody can know what happened. It would make me look weak.”
Weak. People said many things about me. Weak wasn’t one of them. I had no trouble doing what was necessary, no trouble hurting and breaking others. I shouldn’t have hesitated claiming Aria, shouldn’t have been bothered by her terror and tears. I should have pushed her down on her knees so I didn’t have to see her fear and fucked her from behind. That’s what people expected from me.
“Weak because you didn’t want to rape your wife?” she asked, her voice shaking.
My fingers tensed on Aria’s waist. Rape— we both knew nobody in our world would see it that way. No matter how brutally I fucked Aria, they’d see it as my privilege, my right.
My lips pulled into a tight smile. “Weak for not taking what was mine for the taking. The tradition of bloody sheets in the Sicilian mafia is as much a proof of the bride’s purity as of the husband’s relentlessness. So what do you think it will say about me that I had you lying half-naked in my bed, vulnerable and mine, and yet here you are untouched as you were before our wedding?”
Fear simmered in Aria’s eyes. “Nobody will know. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Why should I trust you? I don’t make a habit of trusting people, especially people who hate me.”
Aria touched the wound on my forearm, her eyes softer than before. “I don’t hate you.”
She had every reason to hate me because I owned her, because I would never release her now that she was mine. She’d be trapped in an expensive golden cage, safe from violence because I vowed it to myself, but condemned to live without love and tenderness.
“And you can trust me because I am your wife. I didn’t choose this marriage, but I can at least choose to make the best out of our bond. I have nothing to gain from betraying your trust, but everything to gain by showing you that I’m loyal.”