I help Pippa into the limo, then follow behind her, shoving the massive amount of fabric from her dress in before I sit down next to her. She doesn’t say a word as the driver closes the door behind us, then doesn’t speak until he’s in the front seat.
The car begins to move and I watch as her gaze moves from the driver’s partition to me, then back to the driver again.
“The partition is up,” I inform her. “You may speak freely.”
I watch as she frowns, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. She doesn’t speak right away and I want to demand that she tell me what she’s thinking, but I decide to wait it out. She looks down at her lap, then I watch as she straightens her fingers, her ring shining in the sunlight that’s streaming through the window.
“Massimo,” she whispers. “That’s your name? The one you go by?”
My lips twitch and I nod once. “Gavino and my friends sometimes call me Mass. But yes, in general, I go by Massimo.”
“Massimo Ferrucci,” she exhales.
“Pippa Ferrucci,” I say.
Her gaze flicks up to meet mine and she just watches me for a moment, her eyes searching mine and she has a million questions floating around in her head. I wait for her to ask them though. I’ll answer what I can for her, what I am willing to. She won’t get every single answer to every question that she has I’m sure.
“You’re Made?” she asks.
“That bothers you,” I say.
It’s not a question. I know that it does. She nods, then she lifts her hand and I feel her soft fingertips touch my lips. I hold my breath as her fingers trace my mouth, her eyes searching mine.
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to want this. I never wanted to marry a man in the famiglia. I never wanted to marry a man like my father,” she says. “But here I am.”
Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around her wrist. Squeezing her firmly, I hold her hand right where it is, freezing it in place. I want to feel her touch against my skin, it’s fucking outstanding.
“Here you are, dolcezza,” I agree.
We stay exactly in that same position, watching one another. She’s sizing me up, trying to figure me out. She won’t. But I have her figured out. Aside from being hesitant, she feels as though she had no choice but to marry me. She’s also scared. I don’t blame her, I would be if I were her too.
I’m selfish. I’m demanding—I’ll be both, her time and her body.
I own her now. A possession that I never thought I would have. She’s landed in my lap and I’m never going to let her go. I’ll never lose her, I won’t fucking allow it. I’ll protect her until my dying breath. Pippa is who I never thought I could have and who I always dreamed of.
The limo stops, but I don’t make a single move to get out of the car. The driver doesn’t open my door either. He knows to wait for my signal, to wait for me to open my door myself. I instructed him before the ceremony.
“Are you disappointed?” I ask.
I watch as her brows furrow. She thinks about my question, then she inhales a deep breath as she leans in closer to me, shifting her hand away from my mouth, I wait as she moves so that her lips are almost touching my own.
“I don’t know, yet,” she whispers. “I suppose I’ll have to wait to see when you hurt me, and how badly it feels. Because I know that Made Men hurt their wives. I just don’t know to the extent that you will deliver your painful blows.”
Shaking my head once, I lean forward, gently nipping her bottom lip with my teeth. Reaching for the handle of the car door, I tug it open. The driver stands to the side, holding the door open for us.
Slipping out of the limo, I don’t answer her. I’m not going to make her blind promises. I will hurt her, there is no doubt. There is no way for me to say that I won’t. There is also no way for me to know the extent of the pain that I will eventually cause her.
For now, we’ll eat, we’ll dance and we will celebrate our union with friends and family, along with famiglia. Later, I’ll take her virginity, finally owning her body for myself, something that I have dreamed of since the moment I first laid eyes on her.
PIPPA
Massimo walks away from me after we’ve eaten, danced our first dance, and cut our cake. I watch as he makes his way over to Gavino and his small circle of men. Pressing my lips together, I’m unable to take my eyes off of him.
I supposed I didn’t realize it three years ago when I was taken to see my sister. Massimo isn’t just a Made Man. He is one of the men at Gavino’s side. One of his top men.
“You’re beautiful,” a voice says from my side.
Turning my head, I smile at my sister. Rosana is stunning in a pale pink tea-length dress. Her black hair is straight down her back, her makeup subtle and perfect for her age. She’s even wearing small heeled strappy sandals. She looks like the little lady that she is on the cusp of womanhood.
“Thank you,” I breathe as I reach for her and wrap my arms around her body.
She returns my hug, her arms tightening around me. “I feel like I’m losing another of my sisters,” she whispers.
My arms flex. “Never,” I swear. “Never.”
“Rosana,” Irene snaps.
Her body flinches. I want to keep her right here with me. She lifts her head, her eyes looking up at me, watery and on the verge of losing it right here. Shaking my head, I release her, knowing that my aunt will be a bitch if I try to keep her with me.
“You know how
