Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I did.”
“On short notice?”
“Yes.”
He paid them well, then. Not a shocker.
“So we’re alone.”
“Well, no. There’s staff.”
Ah, right.
As we approach the entrance, the gleaming glass doors glide open for us. I stifle a squeal of delight when I see a dolphin-shaped water fountain in the lobby, spouting water high into the air. It’s backlit with LED lights, making the whole display light up like constellations in a night sky.
My husband leads me in past the fountain.
Gah. Husband. I wonder how long it’ll take to get used to that.
“Where to?” he asks the guard.
“This way, sir.”
I swear I see the shadow of someone or something pass into a room to our far right, but when I look for confirmation from Salvatore, he isn’t showing any signs of having seen anything. Huh. I chalk it up to my too-vivid imagination. He did say there was staff here. Maybe someone forgot the bubble bath or something.
The men bring our luggage into the room then silently leave. Salvatore thanks them, but they only respond with curt nods. Seems most of his men are well-trained and know that he wants to be alone right now.
Alone with me, that is.
My heart beats faster.
The room isn’t anywhere near as large as my room in Tampa, but this one’s well-appointed and luxurious. In the very center of the room’s a large, circular bed.
“I’ve never seen a bed in the shape of a circle before,” I squeal. “Oh my God. It’s like the Poconos. Tell me, do we have a champagne glass-shaped jacuzzi, too?”
He quirks a brow at me. “Why don’t you go see? I haven’t been here before.”
Everything’s white and gold and gleaming, speaking of luxury and comfort. It smells clean and inviting, with soft hints of lavender and vanilla.
I push the door to the bathroom open.
“No flute-shaped jacuzzi,” I yell over my shoulder, in case he wants an update. “But mamma mia, is there ever a jacuzzi!”
It’s as big as a small swimming pool. I want to strip my clothes off and dive right in. Fill it with bubbles until they nearly spill over onto the floor and hit my chin. “Salvatore!” I shout.
“Yes?” I squeal when I hear him right behind me. I cover my mouth with my hand and stifle a giggle.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Didn’t know you were that close. There’s a bidet in here.”
He looks to where I’m pointing. “So there is.” He speaks with practiced patience, clearly not as invested in all this as I am.
I open the large mirrored cabinet over the sink and finger the paper-wrapped toiletries. I’ve been raised wealthy, and hardly deprived my entire childhood, but the raw excitement of the newness of it all thrills me. My pulse races with every luxuriant scent and detail, from the ridiculously plush towels that feel like clouds, to the washcloths with ribboned edges, to the light blue bottles of toiletries reminiscent of a spa.
“I want to take a bath,” I breathe. “Oh my God, it looks amazing.”
“You’ll have time for that later.”
I look up at him when his words fall heavily. I blink, processing what he’s saying.
Later.
Now, we have other things to do.
Things like… consummate the marriage.
Give him my virginity.
Learn to obey him or suffer the consequences.
Easy peasy. Eep.
I turn to face him. I can’t use the hunger excuse.
“I’m a little tired.” Lame.
He’s leaning against the doorframe casually, his large hands shoved in his pockets. I look away quickly. The pose, the look in his blue eyes, the way his suit hugs him to perfection, makes him look as if he stepped out of a magazine for men. One might even call him charming.
“You’ll have plenty of time to sleep later.”
Figures.
Yeah, I’m not ready for this part of the ceremony yet, but I also know I don’t have much of a choice. Consummating an Italian mob wedding is at the very top of the rules list, as inflexible as the sun rising.
“Shouldn’t there be… I dunno, wine involved with the next step?”
“The next step?” he asks, his voice as smooth as satin but eerily quiet.
“I… if you’re… if it’s time to…” My cheeks flush hot and the words get stuck in my throat.
“Fuck you?”
“Salvatore,” I chide, clutching my throat. “You make it sound so…”
“Crude?” he supplies once again.
“Yes!” I am literally burning up.
“You’re pretty when you blush,” he says approvingly. “I thought I’d have to work a lot harder to get that color in your cheeks.” Tipping his head further to the side, he eyes my ass. “And I can’t wait to color those cheeks.”
Oh, very clever, Mr. Capo. I swallow my outrage, quickly recognizing it has no place here.
“You’d like wine first?” he asks curiously.
“At least,” I croak, then quickly wish I could take my words back when his eyes narrow dangerously.
“At least? Is there something else you’d rather use to take the edge off?”