Dark Throne: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals) Page 4

  I give him a nod. “If you’ll excuse me—I’ve got to greet my guests.”

  I go to brush past him, but as I do, he stops me, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his side.

  His words are hot against my ear. “Be a good girl and heed my warning from earlier. Stay away from my brothers, and my land.”

  “I will.”

  He releases me.

  A tremble runs through me.

  I shake it off, determined to enjoy this night. I pass by him, going back to the party, resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder, to take one more look at him in his suit.

  Stepping out onto the veranda, I’m relieved to find I’m alone. I close my eyes, standing there a moment, letting the night breeze caress my cheeks, cool my skin. I go to the stone railing, looking over our land in the silver moonlight. From here I can see the thick trees of the forest, the wall that protects us. The gates…and in the distance, I can see the ocean, the waves sparkling, reflecting the light from the night sky.

  I finally feel calm enough to think. Why does Luca have this effect on me? It’s like his presence alone increases my body temperature, melting me into a helpless puddle. Just remembering the feel of his hand around my arm makes my head go light. I wrap my hands around the stone railing, gripping it for mooring. I look down at the ring, wanting to tear it off, to toss it away. But it’s too pretty, too perfect with its dainty simplicity. I love it.

  How did he know what I would have chosen for myself?

  I leave the ring on. I go back to my party. Everyone’s taken their masks off by now, so there’s no worry over Luca having mine.

  I look for Cecily but I can’t find her. Without her brothers here, I’ve no doubt she’s off in some corner, working on her flirting skills. I go from friend to friend, accepting warm birthday wishes from each of them. We eat and dance, and after an hour, I’ve almost forgotten my unwanted guests.

  Until I find my best friend, her back up against a wall, her hands behind her, her chin tilted just so.

  Her flirting stance.

  She’s talking to the oldest of the Romano brothers, Lance. He’s ten years older than her, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark soul. Brutal and deadly, just like Luca. He’s got his hand pressed into the wall above her head, his thick, muscular body surrounding hers.

  A wolf ready to devour his prey.

  And yet now, she’s twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she lets out a tinkling laugh.

  I almost wish her brothers were here right now, to pull her from the arms of this predator.

  I’ll do it myself.

  I’m not scared of the Romanos.

  Well, not all of them.

  I cross the floor, shouldering past Lance’s massive body, moving in between them. “Please excuse us, sir.” I grab Cecily’s arm, pulling her away.

  “Oh!” She scurries to keep up with me as I drag her across the room, her gaze turning over her shoulder to stare at Lance. “What are you doing? You’re as bad as my brothers!”

  When we’re safe by the cake table, my three-tiered pink and white perfection filling the air with a sugary vanilla scent, I answer her. “Saving you. Trust me, you do not want to get involved with them.”

  She gives a shrug, standing on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of him over my shoulder. “He’s kind of cute, though.”

  “And kind of deadly. Steer clear.”

  I grab her shoulders, turning her away from Lance and toward the cake. Cecily can always be distracted by sweets.

  She swipes a finger on the bottom edge of the piped pink frosting, bringing to her lips and tasting. “Buttercream?”

  “Yes. Sophia’s secret recipe.” I follow suit, tasting the delicious icing.

  “Don’t touch that cake!” Sophia comes flying from the corner, chasing us off, flapping a blue checkered kitchen towel in our direction.

  We break into a fit of giggles as we run from her. I’m not watching where I’m going and I’m stunned when I run into a wall of muscle. “Oomph!”

  I feel a splash on my arm, a spilled drink. I freeze, looking up to find Luca.

  He’s holding a—now—half empty glass of champagne, a dark patch of alcohol dampening his suit. His startled gaze trails down to his drink, then crawls back to my face. “Cecily, you’ll have to excuse us just once more.”

  My friend looks at me, her eyes wide, her hand over her mouth.

  This time I only need to give her a nod of dismissal and she flits away.

  Probably off to find Lance.

  Luca’s heavy gaze slides over my curves. “Naughty little girl. Running about like a child, bumping into her guests and making them spill drinks on their suits. Someone really ought to teach you some manners, princess.”

  My blood boils hot with vengeance, remembering the shame I felt at his hands as he took me over his knee.

  This is my house. My party. And I didn’t invite any dumb bears.

  Without thinking of the repercussions of my actions, my hand shoots out, knocking his glass so the rest of the liquid splashes out onto his chest.

  I give a little shrug and a smirk. “Oops.”

  His face turns to stone, his eyes to ice.

  The look he gives me makes my knees go weak.

  What have I done?

  He sets his glass down on a table at his side. He grabs my arm, pulling me from the room. “Come with me.”

  I struggle, frantically looking over my shoulder for someone to save me.

  The band plays.

  No one sees, no one comes to my rescue.

  My heart beats loud in my ears as he guides me down the hall. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Obviously, my warning to behave wasn’t enough. You want to disrespect me? Then bear the shame of being taken from your party to be punished.”

  His grip on my arm tightens.

  I’m suddenly scared, not wanting to go into the hall with him. I try apologizing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Sometimes, sorry isn’t good enough. Sometimes, bad little girls need to be taught to be good.” He pulls me into the depths of the dark, empty hall. “Sometimes, naughty girls get punished.”

  I brace myself, expecting him to prop his knee up and throw me over it for another taste of his discipline.

  But he doesn’t.

  He pulls my body into his.

  I’m shocked as he presses his mouth against mine. He’s…kissing…me. It’s a hard, punishing kiss, same as the one he stole on the road. I want to fight, but his strong hands press into my back, and I can feel the heat of his flesh through the thin silk of my dress.

  He’s controlling, possessive. He kisses me like I’m a conquest he’s won.

  And has he?

  He has.

  My body melts into him and I find myself kissing him back, eager for more.

  His hand slides over my breast, cupping it roughly, squeezing it harshly. My nipples tighten under his touch and my breasts ache.

  If this is his punishment, I’ll never obey him again.

  But now he’s taking my taut nipple between his fingers and pinching hard, so hard that I break away from our kiss with a gasp.

  His mouth finds my ear, his words are harsh against my skin. “Does the princess want the big bad wolf between her naughty thighs?”

  I come to my senses, trying to push him away, but he’s too strong. “No. You disgust me. And you’re more of a pig than a wolf.”

  He gives a dark chuckle, making my stomach knot, wondering what he has in store for me. His hand slides around my hip, gathering the cheek of my ass in his hand. He grabs my flesh, pulling it high, making a burning pain shoot through my ass as he parts my cheeks.

  Stirring a warming between my legs.

  “I beg to differ. I’ve very much the wolf. With sharp teeth.” He nips at my neck, trailing a line with the tip of his tongue up to my ear where he bites at my lobe. “All the better to eat you with.”

  An achy pulsing grows heav
y between my thighs as I succumb to his very wish, imagining his hot, wet tongue kissing me there. I let out a low moan.

  “I’d bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have this wolf eat you? Then fuck you till you’re crying out for more.” His palm slides back over my hips, down my belly.

  Down…between my thighs.

  He cups my aching sex in his hand. “But you’d have to beg me, little girl. Use your pretty manners and beg so sweetly.”

  His fingers curve around my pussy, his palm pressing against my aching clit, his fingers over the silk of my dress, toughing lightly just at my opening. He stills, leaving his hand there with just that faint amount of pressure against my sex, and he waits.

  My breaths come in short pants. I’m feverish, my skin flushed. My head goes light and dizzy. My hands grab his arms, holding onto him like an anchor.

  Despite my loathing, I need friction, I need release. And I need it to be from his hand.

  I dig my fingers into him. “Do it.”

  His mouth moves to my ear, his breath hot against my flesh. “Naughty girl. Say please.” His fingers move just the littlest bit, tickling my delicate flesh over the silk.

  A whine rises in my throat. “Please, you big brute. Touch me.”

  A hand slips up my throat, cupping my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his, the other hand begins stroking the seam of my pussy.

  His eyes flash. “Look away from me and I stop.”

  My breath catches in my throat. His demands are so dark, so controlling, yet when I gaze in his eyes, when I obey his words, more moisture pools between my thighs.

  “Good girl.” His gaze heavy on my face, he slides his fingers up and down the silky material of my dress, his fingers slipping up and down over my seam, his pressure increasing with each swipe.

  I cling to him as the pleasure shoots through me, making me tremble. I long to close my eyes, to hide my face, but then, that would end his touch. So, I swallow down my humiliation and shame and I keep my gaze locked with his.

  He adds pressure, parting my lips through my clothing and rubbing his fingers against my clit. I let out a moan, my head lolling back, my eyes closing.

  His hand tightens around my chin, while the touching below my waist stops. “Eyes on me.”

  My head snaps forward and I open my eyes again, quickly learning to bend to his will as I focus on his lust-filled gaze.

  I’m rewarded for my obedience.

  His fingers move once more.

  He rubs me, soft then hard, up and down, over and over until I’m standing on tiptoe, my back arching, my breath catching. The shame fills me, almost breaking me as I stare into his eyes. I need those fingers to keep moving.

  I’m so close…

  His hold on my chin tightens. The pad of his thumb runs down my cheek. “Are you my bad girl?”

  Something shifts between us. An understanding.

  His will is my command. And…I want it this way.

  I breathe out my one word answer. “Yes.”

  “And do you want to come?”

  I hold his burning eyes as the climax tears through me. “Yes, please, yes…” my whispered words catch in my throat as his fingers move harder and faster.

  I watch his face as he draws the orgasm from my body.

  With my eyes locked on his, I come with a bursting shudder.

  The humiliation is as deep as the pleasure. I can’t break the two apart.

  I whimper his name in the throes of my climax. “Luca.”

  I tremble, I shudder as the final wave rips through me. My face drops to his shoulder, my hands still holding him.

  I stand there, a disaster. I’ve come and yet there’s not an ounce of satisfaction running through my blood.

  I only want more.

  I want only him.

  And he knows this.

  I pull away from him.

  His face is that of a victor. A tormentor winning his prize…

  My shame was his prize.

  His hands move to my hips. He brings me into him, my aching breasts push against his chest. His lips meet mine for one more harsh kiss.

  “Happy Birthday. Princess.”

  He lets me go.

  I stand, on wobbling legs.

  Pressing his palm into my lower back, he guides me back to the party.

  I hate him.

  Don’t I?

  This war is not over. I will seek my revenge.

  I return to the ballroom with damp panties and a hot face.

  Cecily comes to my side, taking my arm in hers. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Her eyes widen as she pulls me into the shadows. We watch Luca exit the ballroom without a backward glance. “What happened?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I give her a tight smile. “Let’s go back to the party.”

  We dance with our friends, eat our fill, my body still humming from Luca’s touches. At eleven on the dot, Vincent ends the party, sending the last of the guests home. And I’m glad. I need a moment alone.

  As I lay in bed, instead of visions of the ball flashing in my mind, I find images of his face. Clips of his words. The feel of his hands on my breast, his fingers sliding between my thighs.

  I slip the ring from my finger, twirling it under the light of my bedside table lamp. As I turn it, a scrolling inscription on the inside of the band catches my eye.

  He’s had the ring engraved.

  It’s engraved and it came all the way from New York.

  He purchased this ring long before today.

  This is a gift he planned.

  I bring it closer. A cold shiver runs down my spine as I read the tiny curling words.

  You will be mine.

  4

  Luca

  I’ll spank her ass, I’ll make her beg, I’ll torment the hell out of her.

  I’ll do whatever it takes to make her obey me.

  It’s the only way I know to keep her safe.

  Esme’s been impulsive for as long as I’ve known her. She’s sweet and shy and would give you the clothing off her back, her last meal, her last dollar, if you needed it.

  She has all the wealth of the world, but it’s the simple things in life that make her happy. Baking a cake, a walk in the woods, having a meal with a friend…

  A simple gold band.

  Most girls in her position would be stuck up, snobby, blowing through their father’s cash. Buying fancy clothes, driving fast cars. Not Esme. She has all she needs in her family.

  She’s fucking…sweet.

  But she doesn’t think before she acts.

  And in our world, that can land you in a world of hurt.

  Real pain, real danger, not just a few smacks on her perfect ass.

  My cock twitches in my trousers as I remember the feel of her weight over my lap in the courtyard. The squirming of her hips, making her belly press against my crotch as I brought my hand down over those little heart panties.

  The softness between her thighs under all that silk tonight, her gaze locked on mine as I made her come.

  I can still smell the scent of her on my fingers.

  I walk back to our estate, alone in the dark. Lance stayed behind to flirt with the women. My two younger brothers, Rocco and Sergio, left before me.

  They only see Esme as a piece in our games. A pawn to use to secure a war with her father. If they had caught her on our property…I’m not sure what they would have done.

  Or what I would have had to do to them.

  They are too young to have a say in family matters, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that fact. Vengeance over Vincent Russo showing up on our turf, making a name for himself high on the castle on the hill of our village—before they were even born—runs through their veins.

  But not mine.

  I seek peace. I long to unify our families. Sure, Romano blood runs deep through me, cold, calculating, and dark, but I know the power Vincent Russo holds. It would be foolish to put our p
ride before our wisdom and try to take him down.

  My father, John, agrees with me and Lance on all things, either because he thinks I’m wise, or he’s lacking the energy to make his own decisions, I’m not sure. They’d like to see peace as well, especially my father, who seems so tired these days. The younger two of my brothers are the hold up, as stubborn as they are strong. Until they see our way and I’m sure the little punks won’t try to pull something stupid, I’ve got to keep Esme safe from them.

  As always, she’s the biggest threat to her own safety.

  I reach the arched gate that leads to the courtyard and chuckle as I remember her falling onto the stones this afternoon, spying on me as I read. Her cheeks went pink, her eyes wide as I crossed the courtyard to reach her.

  I can’t explain it. There’s just something in me that’s always been drawn to the little blonde-haired girl. As children, I teased her, mercilessly, longing to make her squeal.

  Now?

  I no longer want to make her squeal.

  I want to make her moan, to make her scream, to make her cry out my name.

  I long to hear Luca roll from her lips.

  I’ve always, always, harbored the desire to protect her.

  She thought I was a bully. Using my strength to intimidate the other boys in my grade. If she knew the things they’d said about her, the things they said they wanted to do her blooming body, she’d understand the black eyes, the bloody noses I’d given them.

  Every boy in the village wanted a taste of Esme.

  At thirteen, she had the curves of a woman. She loved to flirt, to chase the boys. I always knew her banter was in fun, but some of the boys saw it as a sign of her being loose, making her the target of their filthy talk.

  They should have known better to speak of her the way they did. I made it clear she was out of bounds. They all backed off.

  They thought I wanted her for myself.

  I only wanted to protect her.

  From time to time, I’d wonder if that deep desire to protect her came from a place of longing. My want to ensure her safety grew as I waited for her to become a woman.

  I kept my feelings at bay.

  I open the gate slowly, as not to make it creak and disturb the grumpy old orange tabby, Buckles, who sleeps in the garden. As I step into the courtyard, I hear hushed voices. It’s Rocco and Sergio, having arrived home before me. Their voices grow heated as they plot, I assume, set on a Russo takedown.