Sold to Mr. Giordano

Arielle

•HONEYMOON•Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

The reception is pleasing, I would’ve been very happy with the turn out of this wedding was actually something I wanted. Although I have shared a few moments with my new husband it is hardly a connection. How can you marry a man you hardly know? How can I be expected to love him? This wasn’t my choice—this wedding wasn’t my choice.”Beautiful ceremony,” Rocco sits next to me with champagne in his hand. “Would you like a glass?”

I snort. “You know I’m not legal.”

“And that has stopped you before? Come on, we’re Italian we have wine with every meal and champagne every celebration.”

“I meant, I can’t even legally drink yet I am married. I am a wife and I have to—” I cut myself off and clear my throat. “I have to tend to my husband and I can’t even legally drink.”

Rocco nearly rolls his eyes. “Lighten up, sister. Your husband wants a dance,” he nods his jaw in the direction of Antonio who is eyeing me from across the dance floor. “You still have two hours to enjoy before you tend to your husband,” he teases.

I stand and instead of walking toward the man who is basically shooting daggers with that gaze, I follow Arabella into the women’s room.

I grab her by her elbow and she yelps. “Arielle Jesus Christ you scared me.” She puts her hand over her heart.

“Sorry, I just need to talk to you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still nervous about tonight,” she frowns.

“I think I’m more scared about losing my freedom.”

“Xander would never, I mean sure you’ll have someone follow you everywhere, but he won’t lock you up in his penthouse.” She gently touches my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” There’s something in her expression—sadness. Is she thinking about her soon to be wedding with Luca?

Stick to the plan, do what Antonio wants to tonight.

“You’re right. I’ll be fine,” I nod my head and walk over to the sink to pour cold water on my face.

Arabella quickly grabs my wrist. “You’ll ruin your makeup!”

I give her a less than amused look. I needed help breathing, cold water on my face, fresh air, my dress unzipped…

You will soon enough.

“Go dance with you husband,” Arabella shushes me out of the bathroom and towards the dance floor.

Antonio has a drink in his hand, his posture demanding that I come to him or face consequences. He reeks of dominance and power. Charm, manipulation and danger radiating in his eyes. In a trance I go to him.

“You look amazing,” he whispers in my ear. His warm breath touching the shell of my ear and causes me to shiver. “The crowd wants to see us dance. May I?” He holds out his hand. You don’t deny your husband let alone the Capo.

My father and Luca stare me down and talk amongst themselves as if they are planning or laughing at what they know is to come in my marriage. Father smirks and I shudder, the face of a cold blooded murderer who feels no empathy for others. My father—the sociopath.

Luca eyes his bride licking his lips as if he were looking at his dinner. My stomach turns at the knowledge I have of his cruelty, one I don’t want him to share with my best friend and now cousin. I’ll have to do something to stop their wedding.

“You worry too much,” Antonio’s voice startles me. “You pay an awful lot of attention to our guests. I think it’s time you give your husband the proper attention he deserves.”

“He’ll get enough tonight,” I murder through gritted teeth.

For some reason that response pleases him. “Oh, I know I will.”

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself.”

“What? Going to put up a fight?” He bends down to whisper in my ear, “I love a good fight.”

I curl my lip in disgust and before I can open my mouth Angelo asks to cut in. His face is bruised and swollen but he still looks handsome in his pressed suit. He has a limp but that doesn’t stop him from taking my hand and sharing a dance with me.

“I wish there was something I could do to stop this,” he frowns.

I know he isn’t talking about the wedding that already happened, but what is going to happen tonight.

“Grin and bear right?” I tell myself not to cry even though I desperately want to.

 “It doesn’t have to hurt. If you don’t fight it won’t—”

I shake my head. “Don’t. It’s too weird to talk about that with you.”

“I’m just trying to help you. I seem to be the only one on your side,” he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and pulls me into a hug. “You say the word and I’ll get you out of Chicago. I don’t care if it’s right now, next week or ten years from now. I want you happy, Ary.”

“I know you do,” I give him a weak smile. “But that’s not your responsibility anymore. This is for the good of the mafia.”

 “But—”

Antonio chimes in taking my hand and leading me away from my brother. “You alright?” He asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply but keep my eyes locked on Angelo’s.

“It looked like he was upsetting you.”

“It’s my wedding day I think I have a pass at being emotional.”

His jaw ticks as if he’s annoyed at me, but I don’t ask why and he doesn’t tell me why either.

I begin to dread even more what is to come as guests leave one by one, then two by two until there is only immediate family remaining. My father is the one to announce the ending of the night and gives Antonio a wink that tells him he is free to take me to our honeymoon room.

Antonio interlocks his fingers with mine and escorts me out of the reception room, his bodyguards following suit. Outside a black car waits for us to take us to the suite Antonio or whoever booked for us. The entire car ride is silent, but I’m all too aware of how close we are. Our shoulders and thighs are touching and every time I inhale I get a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

Carmelo opens my side of the door and Antonio walks around offering me his arm. He’s quite the gentlemen when I’m not thinking of the heartless sociopath he is and how many people he’s murdered. My heart is racing as we went the elevator. Carmelo is the only one of his bodyguards to go up with us, the rest stand watch outside the buildings while Carmelo gets the wonderful position of watching the hotel floor.

The elevator dings and we stop on the top floor—the twenty-second floor to be exact. My knees nearly give out as he leads me down the hall. We stop at the only suite with double oak wood doors—the honeymoon suite of course. When we enter and Antonio turns on the lights the room is filled with red petals and on the table is a bottle of champagne along with two glasses. Out on the balcony I spot a jacuzzi and realize I don’t have a bathing suit… or do I? My mother had packed my weekend suitcase and whatever is inside is a mystery.

Carmelo drops both of our bags off in the room before shutting the door and leaving me to my demise. Antonio takes off his tux coat so he is left in his white button up, he loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves before walking over to the table to pour us both a glass of champagne.

“I’m not legal to drink,” I say meekly.

Antonio gives me an annoyed look and hands me the glass anyways. “For the nerves, you’re too tense.”

“Wouldn’t you be too?” I reluctantly take the glass from his hand.

Antonio shakes his head. “Relax, Arielle,” he pulls out the table chair for me to sit. He sits next to me and sips his drink while his eyes stare into mine and eat me alive. “There is a hot tub out on the balcony, would you like to go in?”

“I’m not sure I have a bathing suit.”

“Do you need one?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“Yes,” my cheeks turn red.

“You are my wife now. You don’t need a bathing suit. You have nothing to hide from me,” he adamantly shakes his head.

“Then no I would not like to go in,” I down the entirety of my champagne and then cross my arms.

“You’re stubborn,” he pursues his lips.

“I’m Italian,” I bite back.

He inhales out his nose, a condescending huff of a laugh. “Go look through your suitcase, put something on and meet me on the balcony,” he uses his hands to shush me out of his presence as he sips the rest of the champagne in his glass.

I take my suitcase into the oversized bathroom and unzip the bag. All I see are lingerie. Silk nightgowns, cupless bras, lace underwear, strappy complicated negligée…

I take out the lease offense thing—a solid black knee length nightgown and cross my arms around my stomach feeling self-conscious. I head out onto the balcony where Antonio is already waiting in the jacuzzi and has already poured us both our second glass—or at least my second glass.

I quickly step in, the faster I’m in the water the less time he has to stare at me in my little black piece. He waits until I am fully seated in the tub to hand me my glass. Both of his arms are stretch out hanging on the rim of the jacuzzi and he overlooks the balcony staring out into the night sky. It makes me wonder what he’s thinking about.

Antonio doesn’t say anything and it’s actually quite relaxing, the champagne, the hot water and massaging jets, the sounds of city traffic which I’m accustomed too. Antonio surprised me though, I thought he’d be eager to get into my pants. I even thought he’d make a move in the jacuzzi but no, nothing. He seems to be relaxing just as much as I’m trying to. He shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. I decide to do the same.

I must’ve dozed because the next thing I feel is Antonio wrapping his arms around me and lifting me out of the hot tub.

“What’re you doing?” I murmur sleepily against his bare broad chest. He has a thin amount of dark chest hair that tickles my nose slightly, my eyes also wander to the black ink down both of his arms.

“You fell asleep and you were also pruning,” he leads me into the bathroom and set me down on the edge of the tub. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” His fingers find the hem of the nightgown and he begins to pull up.

I widen awake and smack his hand away. “I can dress myself,” I scold him.

He knits his eyebrows together and fury burns in his eyes. “Don’t do that again,” he orders.

I swallow hard and shake my head. “Please, I-I know this is inevitable but let me go at my own pace. Please,” I hate how I beg.

Antonio nods and pulls back, I don’t know why but having him watch me take my nightgown off feels worse than if he were taking it off himself. My hands shake with anxiety as I lift the damp nightgown off my body and quick covers my hands over my exposed breasts while I hunch over to cover my more intimate area. Antonio runs the bath water and fills it up with a bottle of bubble bath soap he grabbed out of my suitcase.

I begin to shiver as I watch him check the waters before scooping me up and placing me into the full bathtub. The warm water feeling like heaven against my skin. I let out a soft moan and sink down until the water covers me from the neck down. The bubbles in the

I hear shuffling and when I peel an eye open Antonio is facing the other way. He’s naked and I get a view of his sculpted, perfect ass. He turns around and quickly I close my eyes once more so I don’t catch glimpse of his manhood. My body is moved forward as Antonio climbs in the tub behind me. My breathing picks up and bit my bottom lip to keep myself from protesting.

Everything will be okay.

Antonio fits behind me like a puzzle piece, his legs are spread and he pushed me against his chest so I’m lying perfectly against him. I rest my hands on his thighs which are on both sides of me. His arms wrap under my breast to hold me close and to keep my head above water.

I stiffen when I feel his hardness pressed against my back, but I can’t move, his arm is secured around me. I keep my eyes closed hoping that maybe he’ll take it as a sign that I just want to relax—or that I’m too tired.

He moves and I hear the pop of a bottle opening—a shampoo bottle. He lathers the soap in my long hair and I nearly melt by the scalp massage he provides.

How could such an innocent act such as washing my hair feel so intimate?

My nails slightly dig into the flesh on his legs as pleasure shoots through me and my body becomes warm. His fingertips dig into my head and rub as he cleans every strand of my thick hair. I lean against his chest and focus on controlling my breathing. I didn’t expect to want him.

But I don’t. I don’t want him. Sure of course there is the closeness every human craves and certainly a massage is not helping my case. I don’t want to, I don’t want to because I’m not one of those girls who can just give up my virginity to anyone. Sure, Antonio is my husband, but I don’t know him. I don’t love him and he certainly doesn’t love me either.

Antonio cups his hands under the water and uses it as a cup to pour water over my head. After a few times of doing this he gives up and tells me to dip my hair into the water to rinse off the remaining soap. I do as I’m told and he hold me steady so my face doesn’t drop below the surface. His hand gently holds the back of my head and pulls me back up when he deems the soap is all gone.

He hugs me against his body once more and I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. The silence between us, oddly enough, is soothing. It’s comforting that there seems to be no pressure to put out—at least not right now—that him and I can just lay here in the warm water, in each other’s arms, and relax. Forget about all the troubles of the past few weeks that should’ve turned my hair gray.

We must’ve been in the bath for an hour, Antonio had to add warm water at least three times to keep it at it’s perfect temperature. He unplugged the drain and let the water disappear. I stayed in as the water slowly went down as he got up to grab two fluffy towels from the bench. He hands me a towel to dry off and then he uses his to dry his hair.

I keep my eyes high trying not to look at the thing that was pressed hard against me our entire bath. To my utter relief he does the same as I run the towel over my arms and squeeze out excess water still absorbed in my hair. Antonio turns away from my nakedness and goes through my suitcase. He pulls out a silk light blue nightgown with thin straps and hands it me. As soon as I grab the material, he heads off to his own suitcase to grab a pair of boxers.

We return to the main part of suite and all I can do is stare at the bed, I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before and as much as I would be content with crawling in and falling asleep right away, I know Antonio has other plans. Antonio leaves my side to pour himself a glass of Jack Daniels he found in the mini bar. He downs it in one gulp and sets the glass on top of the counter.

Nervously I make my way to him, I stand in front of him. He’s so tall and the girly scent of the bubbles did nothing to hide his wonderful masculine musk. I slowly bring my palms to rest on his pecs and force myself to gather enough courage to get on my tippy-toes and press my lips against his.

The kiss is anything but brief, all I’ve ever had was the kiss at our wedding and that was simple—brief. This… this was hunger. Insatiable hunger and as my mouth falls open his tongue sweeps in and causes me to moan. His arms wrap tighter around me and he lifts me up, my legs wrap around his hips and only then does he move us toward the bed.

The soft cotton material of the comfort hits my back and Antonio hovers over me. His lips move from my lips to my neck sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin in the juncture of my neck and shoulder. My hands find his back and I let my nails dig into his already scared skin. Scars from knives and bullet wounds…

He’s a killer.

I gently push on his chest and Antonio pulls back to look me in the eyes. He gives me a confused look. His breathing is erratic and his dark eyes are dilated and filled with lust. Not to mention the tent formed in the boxers tells me he was hoping this would go somewhere that I know I’m not ready for.

“I’m sorry,” I shake my head. “I-I… I can’t,” I frown.

Antonio’s jaw ticks and a wave of frustrations sends him flying off the bed. He runs his hands through his wet dark curls and then rubs harshly at his face. Just when he looks defeated, he turns his emotions upside and points his finger viciously at me. “You,” he growls. “You are my wife. That means you are my property and it is our wedding night, I expect you to act like a grown woman and do what is expected of you.”

My mouth hangs open but all I can manage to say is “I-I…”

“Fuck!” He shouts and kicks over a chair. “I thought… I thought we were—” he clenches his fists and takes a deep breath. “Fine. Fine.”

“What do you mean fine?” I gulp.

“You don’t want to, then I’m not going to force you,” he crawls into bed and turns off the bedside lamp signifying he’s going to sleep.

Still speechless I want to grab his shoulder, make him look at me and apologize. But why should I apologize? And what for?

I turn off the lamp on my side and crawl under the covers. Staring off into darkness feels… strange. I feel lonely despite the body next to me and feel a pain in the center of my chest.

 All I had in mind was he is a Capo and my husband. He promised of not loving me but atleast I can do what he is asking me to. I remember how Arabella is about to jump in an unloved marriage. In case of that I need to fix my own marriage life then maybe I will be able to help her. After thinking a lot…

Under the covers I grab his body rolling him so he lays in his back, I crawl on top of him so our bodies are pressed together. The feel of him underneath me… frightens and excites me. I bring my lips to his neck like he did to mine hoping he’ll find the same pleasure I found. He hands tighten on the back of my nightgown and I feel him harden against my thigh.

“Arielle,” his voice is guttural.

“We should… probably consummate our marriage,” I swallow hard.

Antonio’s eyes bore into mine looking for any signs of uncertainty. I hide it as best as I can as I bite my bottom lip and pray it’ll be over quick.

“You’re sure? Because once we start, there’s no going back,” the rumbling vibrations of his deep voice as he talks against the skin on my neck sends electricity down to my core.

I nod handing myself over to the lust-filled devil.