Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 13

apter 13

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ADRIAN

Rico’s uncles, who were underbosses like me, were the first to break the unspoken boundary. I’d never liked them, and I hated them even more now as their booming voices cut through the music.

“Bed her!” one shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Laughter and applause followed, and soon others joined in until it turned into a full chorus of men chanting.

Bed her! Bed her!

Valentina and I stood with her parents and my sister, and I felt her tense beside me. She clutched her wine glass a little too tightly and her smile wobbled as she tried to play it off. When her eyes darted toward Gemma, my sister gave her a reassuring squeeze and then wrapped her arms around me in a quick hug.

“Don’t make me kick your ass, big brother,” Gemma muttered with a grin only I could see. “Be good to that girl. She’s such a cutie.”

I pulled back, forcing a small smile, but I wasn’t about to stand here and talk about my wedding night with my

sister.

Across from us, Paul kept his expression carefully neutral, but his son wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings. Marco’s glare was bordering on threatening. At any other time, I would’ve taken offense at that kind of look. But tonight, I let it go. The kid had more guts than his father did, I’d give him that.

I turned to Valentina, needing to end this spectacle. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were lowered, but when I held out my hand, she slipped her small, clammy fingers into mine without hesitation.

“Are you ready to go upstairs?” I asked quietly, leaning down so only she could hear.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Then she gave the smallest nod.

I straightened and faced our families. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Just as Valentina and I were about to leave, her mother pulled her in for one last hug. Isabelle leaned down and whispered something in her ear that I couldn’t catch. Whatever it was, it painted Valentina’s cheeks in an instant red that spread all the way down her neck.

She kept her eyes on the floor as I took her hand. The stem of her wine glass was still pinched between her fingers, like she needed something to hold onto, and she let me guide her away without protest. We walked in silence through the ballroom, with the sound of music and laughter fading behind us.

I thought about saying something- anything—that might ease the weight of what was coming. But I wasn’t a man for soft words, and besides, there wasn’t much that could be said. Nothing was going to change the fact that a girl that left high school two years ago was about to become my wife in every sense of the word. So I kept my mouth shut.

She took a sip from her glass. It wasn’t the first time tonight, either. I’d been keeping count in the back of my mind, and this was at least her fifth glass. Maybe sixth.

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Chapter 13

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The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime, and we stepped inside. The silence between us had thickened, too heavy to ignore this time. I glanced down at her, at the way her fingers gripped the glass like it was her only anchor. “What did your mother say to you?” I asked, more to cut the tension than out of real curiosity.

Valentina’s lips twitched as if she were debating whether to answer. Instead of speaking, she lifted the glass again and took another sip.

That was enough. I reached over and plucked it from her hand. “If you’re drunk,” I muttered, eyeing the amber liquid. “I’ll have to fake those damned bloodstains myself.”

She blinked at me, startled, then said quickly, “It’s ginger ale.”

I raised a brow, bringing the rim of the glass to my own mouth. The sweetness hit my tongue, fizzy and harmless. For the first time that evening, I found myself caught off guard.

She fidgeted with the little white purse dangling from her shoulder. “I only had one glass of sparkling wine,” she said quickly, almost defensively. “At the reception. I didn’t want to be drunk.” She lifted her chin, and her wide chocolate brown eyes met mine.

I studied her for a moment, then asked again, quieter this time, “What did your mother say?”

She hesitated. Her lips pressed into a thin line as we walked the last stretch of hallway toward our suite. When I slid the key card into the lock, she finally answered. “That I should try to please you,” she admitted, rushing over the words like she was embarrassed, “and that I should try to hide how inexperienced I am.”

A shaky laugh slipped out of her. “Right now, I’m just trying not to faint from fear.”

Her eyes went wide when the words left her lips, as if she regretted the confession instantly.

I pushed the door open and gestured her inside. She obeyed, though her steps were hesitant, almost dragging. The suite was as lavish as expected. It had gleaming floors, two oversized sofas, and a dining table polished to perfection. It was all for show. We both knew the only room that mattered tonight was the one behind the closed door on the left.

I set her glass down on the table and turned back to her. She stood in the middle of the living area, looking so small and fragile in her heavy gown. That honesty she’d just shown me- the raw, unguarded fear- wasn’t something I’d expected.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Valentina,” I said in a voice lower than before. “We have all night.”

Her gaze flicked toward the bedroom door and lingered there. “Do you really think dragging it out will make it any easier?” she asked softly.

I wasn’t sure. Patience wasn’t my strength, and comfort wasn’t something I’d ever been good at giving. Still, I met her gaze. “Then tell me,” I said, “what would help ease your fears?”

She hesitated, weighing her words, then said quietly, “If it felt like I had a choice.”

I stepped closer, closing some of the distance between us. “You do have a choice,” I told her.

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Chapter 13

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Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and uncertain. “Do I?” she whispered. “Will you really allow me a choice?”

I wanted to say yes, I wanted her to believe it. But the truth was that I couldn’t show weakness, not to her, not to anyone. Not after the doubts Rico had already cast on me earlier. My life, my position, and even my children’s safety depended on me meeting expectations tonight. My wife’s soft eyes and trembling lips couldn’t undo that. Still, if she believed she had a choice, even if it was only the illusion of one, it might be enough.

“I know what’s expected, Adrian,” she murmured. “I know what it would mean for you, and for my father, if there aren’t sheets to show in the morning.” She swallowed hard.

I reached out and brushed my hand along her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin bleeding through the delicate fabric. “Then make it your choice,” I said softly.

Her eyes searched mine for several long seconds, trying to decide whether I meant it. Finally, she gave the faintest nod. “Okay.”

Relief loosened something tight in my chest. At least she was reasonable. At least she wasn’t fighting me on this. Already she seemed different from Serena. That, at least, was something.

Without waiting for me to guide her, Valentin turned and walked toward the bedroom. For the first time since I’d met her, I allowed myself to see her not as a girl forced into marriage but as a woman- my wife, the woman I would take to my bed. It wasn’t desire alone that pushed me forward; it was necessity, tradition and duty.

The bodice of her gown hugged her slim waist, and as she walked, the flowing skirt swayed with each step, emphasizing the curve of her hips. She paused at the threshold, glancing back over her shoulder. Despite her nerves, she managed a small smile, the kind that carried both bravery and innocence. The sight was unexpectedly disarming.

Inside the bedroom, she set her small white purse on the bench at the foot of the enormous king–sized bed. Her fingers lingered on it for a moment, as though she needed something familiar to anchor herself, and then she cleared her throat, cheeks pink with a fresh wave of embarrassment.

I closed the distance between us, catching the faint sweetness of her perfume- vanilla and strawberries. It made me wonder, briefly, if her taste matched the scent clinging to her skin. My gaze swept over the intricate lace of her bodice, the delicate embroidery tracing the line of her chest, the fabric straining gently over the swell of her breasts.

“I’ll have to cut you out of your dress.”

Her head jerked slightly. Surprise flashed in her eyes as I reached into the holster at my chest and drew out the blade. The steel gleamed under the soft lamplight.

It was yet another tradition we couldn’t escape.

18:45 Thu, Nov 6

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

VALENTINA

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