Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
The married ladies, Mama included, sat on chairs. It was custom that only virgins were allowed on these sheets. It didn’t stop my mama from letting me sit on the edge of the bed.
“Lady Ferrante.” He bowed his head. “Raffaella is being called for the speeches. They’re wheeling in the cake.”
“Oh, Fabio, she’s too tired.” She waved him off. “Leave us. But do send over some food and a hamper of tea.”
He didn’t move.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
“Her husband wants her there.”
Silence. Dark, ominous energy poisoned the air.
“Speeches?” Mama huffed sarcastically, keeping her poise. “They don’t even know each other. What is there to say? Besides, I do not take orders from peasants, and neither does my daughter.”
“The don asked to relay the message.” The soldier bowed his head lower, switching from Italian to Neapolitan. “He thinks it shows strength through unity. I’m sorry.” His throat bobbed. “She needs to come.”
And come, I did. I was ushered back downstairs, where my mother reluctantly disposed of me next to my new husband. He was surrounded by his father, brother, sister, and Irish soldiers, and spared me no look.
I noticed all three of the siblings had the same, impossibly rare hair. Blood-red burgundy, rich and dark like aged wine. Their father had ordinary, dark brown hair. They must have taken after their mother.
Was she here? If so, how come I hadn’t met her?
I knew nothing about my groom.
Only that he was wild and exquisitely violent.
That the men in my family found him incontrollable and infuriating because he didn’t fear them.
A few minutes later, Tiernan’s brother stood up and clinked a fork to his champagne flute. He made a speech I couldn’t lip-read, since his back was to me. He looked remarkably like my husband, and yet nothing like him at all. The same ruby hair and green eyes, athletic build, and aristocratic strong features.
But this was where the similarities ended. Whereas Tiernan dripped power and cruelty, his brother looked like a well-groomed accountant, one of the many you could find on Wall Street. He lacked that devil-may-care air, the easygoing charisma.
Since I couldn’t read Fintan’s lips, I turned to look at my family’s table. My mother’s face was gray and lifeless. My father and brothers’ masks of indifference were on, but I could see through their cracks. The throbbing vein in Luca’s forehead. The strain in Papa’s neck. Enzo’s slight scowl. Achilles’s insatiable thirst for revenge and gore.
Then it was my husband’s turn to deliver his words. He stood, grabbing me by the waist and yanking me up with him. I gasped at the sudden invasion. He wrapped his arm around my neck, tucking me under his armpit like I was his captive.
The crowd shifted uncomfortably.
He studied the room, his silence somehow louder than everyone else’s.
His lips moved, and my eyes clung to them.
“Look at her.” He snatched my jaw, tilting my face upward, exhibiting his trophy. “So clean. So pure. So innocent,” he taunted.
He smelled…warm. Alive… Like sex and violence and something else, not entirely terrible, but nevertheless catastrophic.
“The most beautiful woman on the continent. No close seconds. They call her a vision, a masterpiece, a myth. From now on, she only has one name—mine,” he growled, twisting my face by my chin to look him in the eye. A sadistic smirk touched his lips. “I cannot wait to devour my little forbidden fruit tonight. Touch the untouchable. Sully the pristine. Turn the elegant Ferrante princess into a Callaghan delinquent.”
The raucous laughter quaked the walls and settled in my stomach. My father choked on his glass of brandy, nostrils flaring. Luca’s hand settled on his gun in his holster, flicking his gaze to my father for the okay to start a war.
But it was my mother who threw me into a state of pure panic. She stood up and stalked outside, a veil of Camorra wives trailing behind to comfort her.
Crying wasn’t an option. I wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me break.
Mama and I had carefully made sure I didn’t show emotions, but our plan had backfired. Being allegedly a person with intellectual disabilities didn’t matter anymore. I was pregnant and wed. My walls of protection had shattered one after the other. I was unraveling like a loose thread in a sweater. I knew Tiernan would pull and tug until I was completely bare.
My husband dropped my chin. “Consider this your first and last warning.” He spoke to the room, but stared only at me. “Raffaella Callaghan is mine. Nobody is to look at my wife, speak about my wife, or breathe in her direction. She’s under my protection now. The first to cross the line will be the last. They’ll be made an example.” His gaze dragged across the room, which collectively held its breath. “There will be no body to bury, no ashes to spread, no memory to spare if you’re stupid enough to disrespect her. Us. Understood?”