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I’ve loved Domenico De Kysa my whole life. He is my best friend, always has been and always will be. Which is why I’ve shared all my firsts with him. My first kiss. My first time. My everything.
“There is no end for us,” he says with certainty. “It would be like trying to stop the tides. Impossible. My reason for breathing is you.”
“Put these on. We’re not all hung like that… You’ll make us old men feel inadequate.”
He got it like that 😳😏
In a rush of urgency, he takes my hand. “I’ll find you. I promise. On your eighteenth birthday, I will find you. No matter where you are. We will be together again.”
“What do you have to smile about?” “I think I have a solution.” “Yeah, what is it?” I raise my glass to my lips and smirk. “I’m going to make Bella Isle Ciccula my wife.”
My life is an adventure full of friends, art, and cocktails. And I will never let another knock take my confidence away from me again.
“Why me? If you need a wife so badly, why didn’t you pick from the legion of women clamoring for the attention of the Heartless King from the North?” I glare at him. “Why pick the girl whose heart you broke?” The words tumble out, thoughtlessly, and I regret them immediately. The last thing I need is for him to think he has any kind of power over me. Or that him failing to show up on my eighteenth birthday actually meant something to me. Yet there they are, out in the open. The admission that he did indeed break my heart.
A hint of amusement sparkles in his eyes. “I can see you’re going to be a giant pain in my ass,” he says calmly. “Good!” I snap, turning away from him and walking toward the door. “Because I’d hate for that to be a fucking surprise.”
Why pick the girl whose heart you broke? Anger crawls up my spine at the memory, and my smile vanishes. Because I learned the truth.
“What happened to you?” I call out. “What happened to the boy I grew up with?”
I was mourning the loss of the Nico I knew back in Italy. My Nico. The boy who loved me more than his own breath and would never fuck with my life like this. The boy who encouraged me to paint and draw and go after my dreams.
“I know. But I thought you were coming back. Then Nico went to America to find you—”
The expression on her face tells me she hates me. But the kiss on my lips tells me she is not all barbed wire and thorns.
“I’m not going to flee the country.” She folds her arms. “You see, I’ve had time to think while I’ve been locked up in here, and I think I’d much rather stick around and make sure your life is hell. And what better way to do that than to marry you?”
I gasp dramatically and clutch it to my chest. “Never! It’s perfect. Just like my fiancé… even if he is a Mafia murder man.” “What’s with the split personality?” he asks gruffly.
😂😂
Like I did it because I didn’t want anyone else watching her because I’m a possessive asshole who doesn’t want someone else knowing the intimate details of her life as well as I do.
She has defied every wish I had asked of her tonight. The dress. The hair. The jewelry. And she looks stunning.
“I also know that if I was to slip my fingers beneath those tiny little panties you like to wear, I’d find an ocean between your thighs.”
“I will kill any man who dares to put his hands on you. Nobody touches what is mine.”
Her curls have always fascinated me. As a young man falling in love, I had loved her hair, the color, the scent, the softness of it as I buried my face into it when we made love.
It’s the masculine clearing of a throat that stops us both. Kiss drunk, we both swing our faces in the direction of the couch where Massimo sits with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I would’ve announced my presence earlier, but when the two of you argue, no one else can get a word in… and that slap...” He lets out a whistle. “I have to admit, it was kinda hot to watch.”
“You can’t run from this,” I say. “And you can’t keep me locked up in this devil’s den like a prisoner.”
I’m not a small person. I’m five seven with double ds and hips made for childbearing.
“Your figure is beautiful to work with,” she says, standing back to observe her handiwork. Her eyes float over my body as she studies me in the dress like I study my canvases. “The fabric loves your curves.”
Magda was right. The La Perla set is stunning. I look and feel the sexiest I’ve ever felt.
“What the fuck?” Lust shimmers in his expression, fusing with his anger. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?”
I pose so he can see how great my ass looks. I may not be thin and slender, but I don’t need to be. My juicy ass looks great in this silky-smooth thong. And the thighs that I’m a little too critical of because they carry a bit more weight than I want, they look amazing.
He looms up behind me. A powerful force, a muscular frame, eyes that burn with anger and lust and all the things he wants to do to me while I wear this lingerie. It doesn’t scare me. It excites me.
“Is that why you defy me? To get my attention?” Holy fuck, do I? “No,” I whisper.
“You should be careful what you wish for, little one, because when I lose control I can be very imaginative with my punishment.”
“Fuck.” His amused glazed eyes find mine. “No wonder you enjoy arguing with me. Look at how wet it makes you.”
“That’s it, little hell cat. Take it from me. Take your pleasure.” He groans and its primal. “Are you going to come for me?” “Not… for you.” I crush my teeth into my lower lip. “I’m going to come… for me.” Nico smiles wickedly. “Then we both win.”
“You wear things like this for me, and I’ll make sure you come every single day for the rest of your life.”
“I don’t wear this kind of thing every day,” I say, still high. “This is supposed to be for my wedding day.” He smiles into my neck. “Then I promise you our wedding night is going to blow your mind. This outfit makes me want to get very creative.”
“I’m not wearing it for you, I’m wearing it for me,” I say, my body still flushed from coming. “I might not get a say about my fate. But I can at least walk to my sacrificial altar wearing La Perla.” “And so my queen should.”
One thing I do know for sure is she’ll probably be the death of me.
Massimo doesn’t show any restraint. He gives her a wolf whistle. “Goddamn, Bella. You look fucking hot.”
😂😂
“Are you asking if people like to watch, or if people like being watched as they fuck?” The way he says fuck—it’s like he is fucking the word with his own tongue, and it sends a bolt of excitement running up my spine.
“I remembered everything, Bella. The way you moved. The way you felt. The way you tasted. The way you told me how much you loved me.”
I rise on my tiptoes to press my forehead to his. “I have agreed to marry you. I will live with you. I will play the role of your wife in public as I am expected to. I will respect and honor our agreement. But if you ever put your hands on me again, Don De Kysa, then as your queen, I will destroy you.”
“You’re supposed to carry me over the threshold, not throw me.” I laugh, splayed across the marble floor in a twenty-five-thousand-dollar Magda Bianchon.
“Because I’m still not convinced all the blood hasn’t left the head on your shoulders to fund the permanent hard-on you have in your pants for your new wife. You can lie to me all you want, Don De Kysa, but she’s having an effect on you whether you like it or not.” He grins, and it’s laced with mischief. “Me personally, I’m kinda digging it. You’re not nearly the asshole you usually are.”
Brother Knows😏
“Welcome home, husband.” I know it’s probably a trap. Bella should come with a warning. She probably has plans to distract me with sex so she can plunge a knife into my back. But damn if I care. I rip off my tie and discard it as I let the doors close behind me. “Hello, wife.”
“And I still can’t believe you’re the famous Mrs. De Kysa everyone is talking about. When I first heard you’d married that delectable billionaire with those smoldering good looks and all that facial hair, I thought well done, Baby Belle, well done. You married the king.”
LaLa🗣️🎤
“I don’t have a word for how I feel about you, wife. But whatever it is, it’s fucking potent and addictive, and I can’t get enough of it.”
“No.” I want to tell her that the worst has already happened to me, so I have nothing left to fear. That losing her was the darkest feeling I’d ever known. Even now, after all the bloodshed and violent business undertakings where people have attempted to take my life, losing her was the worst.
The twinkle in her eyes and the soft smile on her lips kicks something to life in my heart. Lifting her face, she brushes her lips across mine. “You might drive me crazy, but I kinda like you.” “No, you don’t. You love me. Admit it.”
“You don’t think I could make you come in a room full of these people?” “I’d like to see you try.” I think this is the moment I realize I’m truly in love with her.
I gaze at her beautiful face and run my knuckles across the smooth planes of her cheek. I hate that the little shit attempted to diminish her shine by putting her down. He never saw her as an equal. Never saw her as the queen she is.
