Chapter 2

Well, this marriage was off to a shit start.

Id spent the last month and a half arguing with my cousins, Enzo and Cesare, over my plans to marry Antonia Carlotta Fichera.

Not that I blamed them.

My intended brides nickname was, after all, the Lucrezia of Sicily.

A virginal bride she was not, but I wasnt marrying her for love, so what did it matter?

This was a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.

Her father, Antonius Carlo Fichera, was a powerful capo in Dante Agnellos organization and would be instrumental in keeping the peace after we assassinated Salvatore Giovanni Mangana, Dantes former vice capo who had attacked my family, over a month ago. The last thing my family needed was any more drama from the Sicilian mafia and if my taking a less than desirable bride secured their safety, then so be it.

At first, I was surprised and relieved at my father and uncles show of support for my decision. I should have known better. Behind the scenes, they worked with Sebastian Diamanti to find alternative solutions, causing a delay in my return to Sicily.

There werent any.

Not short of a bloodbath taking out half of Dantes men, which would turn him from a reluctant enemy ally to a pure enemy.

So, with no more delays, I set sail for Sicily to claim my somewhat tarnished bride.

Might as well enjoy a pleasant cruise around the coast on the familys yacht before I faced the gallows.

On the upside, a woman as promiscuous as Antonia would be unlikely to object to my more unique demands in the bedroom.

Every cloud had a silver lining.

I was due to meet with her father tomorrow evening, so saw no reason not to enjoy myself at Palermos famous Carnevale festivities. Despite being assured by her father that my blushing bride was dutifully at home awaiting our reunion, I wasnt the least bit surprised to see her dancing in the middle of the raucous crowd.

I was surprised at how … different … she seemed.

True, I had only met Antonia briefly on Dantes yacht when I was helping my father and Liliana out of a rather delicate situation, but still…

After following in my fathers rather clandestine footsteps, someone in my profession needed to be a quick study of character. Which wasnt gleaned just from what someone said, or their actions. I had learned from my father to study everything.

Every micro expression.

Every movement.

Every detail.

And something was off about Antonia.

On the yacht, she displayed a brassy crassness typical of individuals with nothing meaningful to say or offer to society. Everything about the woman had screamed pay attention to me, from her heavy makeup to her tight dress and loud laugh.

She also had no problem hanging on the arm of one man while still trying to throw herself at me.

Something I intended to put a stop to.

While this was not a love match and I may have accepted that my bride came with a less-than-ideal reputation, that didnt mean I would accept her cuckolding me.

I refused to share my toys.

At least that was one perk of this messed-up arrangement.

Most men dreamed of getting a wife who acted like a whore in bed.

My challenge would be in restricting her to only my bed… which I planned to do with restraints if necessary. Her days of jumping on the nearest man were fucking over.

Tonight, as I gazed at her from afar before approaching, she was different.

She had little to no makeup on, and her blonde hair flowed freely down her back in soft waves. It seemed longer than I remembered and far more flattering than the crunchy, hair-sprayed style she wore on the yacht. I could just imagine wrapping my fist in tonights silky curls and pulling hard as I fucked her from behind.

Then there was her attire. Instead of taking advantage of the permissive atmosphere of Carnevale to wear something suggestive and revealing as I would have expected her to do, she wore a voluminous ruffled skirt and simple white, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse with no jewelry or other adornment. It would almost be considered modest, especially for this festive occasion.

I became transfixed when she danced.

Despite the fast-paced 6/8 time of the pizzica tarantelle, she seemed to move to a slower rhythm than the rest of the crowd. Her hips swayed to every third beat, instead of every other one, so her movements were more seductive.

I assumed it was an artifice to entice and flirt with the males in the crowd until her head fell back and I realized her eyes were closed. She seemed lost in the music, dancing solely for her own pleasure.

To my surprise, I experienced a surge of jealous rage when I realized several men had circled around her swaying form, like wolves drawn to a penned lamb.

Now was the time to stop this behavior.

My new bride might as well know now, I expected strict obedience from her.

The fact her obedience would also come with her complete submission as she was down on her knees pleasuring me added just a slight shimmer to that somewhat thin silver lining.

The moment I laid hands on her, my confusion over her changed demeanor only increased.

Gone was the thick, cloying, rose-scented perfume I remembered. It was replaced with something fresh and clean, with hints of grass and verbena.

Then there was the way her dark eyes widened at the sight of me, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks as her full lips parted on a gasp. As though I had startled a maiden in the woods.

And when I kissed her.

Fuck.

The woman had me believing I was the first man to kiss her.

Could Antonia have been manipulated, like my fathers new wife Liliana, into playing a role at that dinner? Was she more innocent than the rumors suggested?

I had almost believed that… then shed moaned into my kiss.

It was a soft, throaty moan.

If I were a gullible man, Id think she wasnt even aware she was doing it.

I wasnt fooled. Quite the opposite.

I realized this was why other men were drawn to her.

One of the oldest honey traps.

The ultimate femme fatale… the virgin whore.

Most men had a hard time resisting an innocent damsel in distress.

Myself included.

Id have to be careful around her.

She obviously enjoyed using her body and her skills to convince any man she was with into believing they were the only one. And I had almost fallen for the wide-eyed, sexually shocked look, and the way her pulse elevated when I tightened my grasp on her waist. Thank God the others were not here to see my almost-folly.

I would have to be more on my guard around her in the future, but first I had to find her. Again.

The minx escaped my grasp when we were shoved by some drunken revelers.

Before I could grab her, she had disappeared into the crowd.

Id just caught up with her and kissed her when she slapped me and managed to wriggle free a second time.

Snatching my mask from the ground, I secured it over my face.

Time to go bride hunting.