Luca’s top lip quivered as his eyes flared with pure hatred. He made a fist on his thigh and drank from the glass in his hand, his attention shifting to Marcello.
“What do you want?” Marcello asked my father.
“My brother-in-law refuses to distribute our weapons in his shipping containers. He’s already moving drugs and guns for the Italians. The structure is in place at the ports.”
“We have no authority over Mac Corp,” Marcello told him.
“You have authority over the Cormacs,” Dad challenged. “That is my price.”
“And yours?” Marcello asked Sean.
“I want an interest-free loan from the Knights.”
“Fuck, no,” Luca said with venom in his tone.
“How much do you want?” Marcello asked.
“I said no,” Luca boomed.
He was the head of the family and the Grand Master of The Devil’s Knights. Marcello had to listen to him. They handled all financial decisions as a group. The Knights had to vote and agree on new clients.
Marcello raised his hand to stop his brother. “Let him speak.”
“Thirty million,” Sean said with a smirk.
“Done,” Marcello said without looking at Luca, who was furious.
“So,” my father said, his snifter in the air. “I think a toast is in order.”
Luca chugged the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, slammed it on the table, and stormed out of the room.
“Don’t worry about him,” Marcello said, patting my knee. “I’ll pay Sean out of my account. This will all blow over with Luca.”
“You’re giving up a lot for me,” I whispered. “Thirty million? That’s a shit ton of money.”
My father and Sean talked amongst themselves, celebrating their victory over the Salvatores.
Marcello moved his hand to the back of my head, pulling me closer. “No, baby. I’m gaining so much more than I’m losing.”
I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rhiannon
I wore a simple white dress that stopped mid-thigh, a short lace veil covering my eyes, and a pair of borrowed heels. Alex lent me the same shoes she wore for her wedding. In less than one hour, I was about to be one of them. Rhiannon Branwen Salvatore. It sounded weird when I said my new name aloud.
Marcello entered the bathroom, dressed in a black tuxedo and armed with a sexy smirk. His eyes met mine in the mirror, his gaze traveling over my wedding gown, dipping between my cleavage. He clutched my shoulder, his other hand slipping down the front of my dress.
Sucking my earlobe into his mouth, he massaged my breast and groaned. “You look so fucking hot, baby. How about we skip the reception and spend the rest of the night in bed?”
“Mmm… I like the sound of that.” I tilted my head back and rested it on his shoulder. “I’m so horny right now. I need you to take off the edge.”
He spun me around and lifted me onto the countertop. Moving between my thighs, he slid his fingers up my skin.
I licked my lips.
“What do you want, Rhi?”
“You.”
I shoved my dress up my legs, and his head lowered to take in the white lacy garter belt and thigh-highs, my panties nearly see-through.
“Our guests are waiting,” he warned.
I grabbed his hand and inched his fingers up my inner thigh. He stopped at the seam of my panties and bit his bottom lip, a sexy gesture that dampened the fabric. Pushing my panties to the side, I spread my legs wider to give him a better look.
He groaned in response.
I leaned back on my elbows, and his chest rose and fell as I sucked in shallow breaths. Those pretty blue eyes swept over me. The sadness I used to see in his eyes was slowly fading. With each day we were together, I saw different sides to Marcello. He started creating art again now that his father wasn’t here to interfere. We even made art together. Without having so many barriers between us, we could finally connect and be intimate and authentic.
Marcello pushed my legs together and yanked the panties off me.
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
He plunged two fingers inside me, satisfying the deep need within my core. “Then it must be really bad luck to fuck the bride before the wedding.”
I cried out his name, my legs trembling as he stretched me out with his skilled fingers. As he worked my inner walls, he rolled his thumb over my clit, making soft circular motions as he kissed me, threading his fingers through my hair.
My heart pounded so fast that each kiss drained the air from my lungs. Marcello made me feel alive. Like I could do anything with him, be anything with him.
“Feel good, princess?”
“Yes,” I whispered, lifting my hips to shove Marcello’s fingers deeper inside me. “Harder. I need to feel your cock.”
“Not yet.” He smirked. “Patience, baby. Orgasms come to good girls who wait.”
Marcello pushed down the front of my dress and sucked my nipple into his mouth. He tugged on it with his teeth, moans escaping my throat as he massaged my other breast. He twisted my nipple and withdrew his fingers, then added a third finger, slamming back into me so hard and fast I came undone.