“You’re mine now,” she whispers.
She pulls back with a smile that the whole crowd can see, and the guests break into polite applause.
I grin, because I’m supposed to, but also because damn, that was bold. A woman who skips the kiss at her own wedding and tells the man instead that he belongs to her... I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her, and I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or worried.
I made the right choice. At least I think I did. It’s better than death in a cell, and now there’s a beautiful, dangerous woman calling me hers and a whole empire I get to be the face of. There are worse fates. Most men would kill for less.
But I’ve never in my life let anyone own me for long. Not really. I bowed to my father for years, and the whole time I was learning how to find a way to manipulate him, even if it was just to make him snap at me when I needed him to. There’s always a way out of a thing if you’re patient and you pay attention and don’t let the other person know what you’re doing. Amalia thinks she’s bought herself a husband she can keep on a short leash and dispose of if he fails her. And I’ll let her think she has. For now.
If I ever decide I want what’s hers instead of the scraps she’s handing me, I just have to play my cards right. Of course, once it’s time.
It’d be tricky. Her men are loyal to her, because of her blood and all that, but they’re still men, and a lot of them already chafe at the idea of a woman at the top. If the right ones started thinking the husband might make a better boss than the wife, well... I’d just have to let them get to that conclusion on their own while I smiled and played my part.
I glance at Amalia as she accepts congratulations from men who’d put a bullet in her the second they smelled weakness, but there’s no fear or anything in her eyes. And she doesn’t cower. Fearless.
She catches me looking and arches an eyebrow, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking and finds it amusing.
She can’t, of course, but still.
I give her my best charming smile and offer her my arm, like the dutiful husband she expects, and she takes it.
“Smile for them,” she says under her breath as we turn to face the guests.
I spread my lips into a smile.
Oh yeah, this is definitely going to be fun.
Chapter 5
AMALIA
THE PHOTOS OF MY WEDDINGwent out everywhere I wanted them to go. Every family I hoped would notice did, including the men who circled my father like rabid dogs and the ones who whispered that a woman couldn’t hold what he left behind. Now they’re all talking about my marriage and nothing else.
I love it. They’re calling it bold, and they’re right.
Marrying Matteo was the right move, and the proof is in every reply on my phone screen. Half of them congratulate me with words they don’t mean, and the other half don’t bother hiding that they’re rattled. A stranger now has the Petrelli name, and no one knows what to make of him. He’s not from around here, so there’s no history to dig through or an old grudge. They only know one thing about him—that he’s from a mafia family.
I bet they’ll wait. None of them will move against me while they don’t understand what they’re up against, because a confused man treads carefully, and he holds back until he knows the ground under his feet. They’ll watch Matteo and try to figure out what kind of threat he is before they risk anything. That buys me space to breathe, which is all I’ve ever needed.
And now I have time to go after the thing I actually want.
Dominic.
I lean back in the chair and run my finger along the edge of the desk. He’s the reason Tomasso is in the ground. He put a bullet in the only man who ever treated me like I had a brain in my head, and he’s been circling our family for years like he’s owed something. Well, I’m going to collect from him instead.Every piece is finally lining up so I can take him apart, just like he deserves.
I set the phone down and look around my office. A grin pulls at my lips, because I know exactly what my father would think of this.
He’d lose his mind. A woman in his chair, leading the family. He spent his whole life telling me a daughter’s place was anywhere but the head of the table, and that leading was a thing men did while women watched. I look up at the ceiling and grin wider, as if he can see me from wherever he ended up.
“Look at me now,” I say. Then I remember where he probably is, so I look down at the floor instead. “Oh, right. You’re down there.” I tap my fingers on the desk. “Hope it’s nice and warm.”
A knock comes, and Marco leans in. “Boss,” he says.
“Come in.”
He shuts the door behind him and stops in front of the desk. I can tell by the set of his shoulders that he’s got something on his mind, and I’d bet money it’s the same thing it always is.
“Dominic,” he says. “Where are we?”