Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 34

零元

Marco and I met at a small Italian place tucked away on a quiet side street. The place had been around longer than either of us, and its red–and–white checkered tablecloths were faded from years of wine spills and sunlight. The air was thick with garlic and simmering tomatoes, and the waiters knew not to linger too long at our booth.

Marco was already there when I walked in, seated in our usual corner. He looked too casual for my liking, one arm stretched along the back of the bench, a glass of red untouched in front of him. I gave him a curt nod before sliding into the seat across from him.

“Any news on the chapter?” I asked, going straight to the point.

He studied me for a long moment instead of answering. The silence dragged until he finally spoke. “How’s Valentina?” His tone wasn’t neutral- there was weight to it, a warning I didn’t appreciate.

“She’s well,” I said flatly. “And she’s my wife now, Marco. That makes her my concern. Not yours.”

He leaned forward just slightly, keeping his gaze level with mine. “I can accept that, so long as you can promise she won’t end up like Serena.”

The words detonated between us. My body reacted before my mind caught up. I surged forward, seizing him by the throat and driving him back against the bench. His glass rattled on the table, nearly tipping. His face flushed red as my grip tightened, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, defiant.

“Careful, Marco,” I warned in a dangerously low voice. “In Chicago, my word is law. Whatever protection your father gives you in his city doesn’t reach this one. Here, it’s me you answer to.”

“I don’t need my father’s protection,” he grounded out, though my fingers were still pressing hard into his windpipe. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’m under you by choice. But Valentina is my little sister, and I’m not going to stop trying to protect her.”

For a moment, I considered squeezing harder to remind him who he was talking to. But I forced myself to release him instead. He coughed, massaging his throat as I sat back, adjusting my tie and smoothing the front of my jacket as though nothing had happened.

“Valentina is safe with me,” I said coolly. “She doesn’t need your protection.”

Marco gave a rough laugh that ended in another cough. “No wonder Rico likes you. You and him, you’ve got the same little habits. The same temper.”

I ignored the jab. “The bikers. They’re moving again. Look what they pulled in Jersey and New York. They won’t stop there. We’ll have to keep a closer eye.”

“I’m already doing that,” he muttered, straightening in his seat. “It’s not easy establishing contacts. They don’t exactly welcome outsiders.”

I picked up his glass, swirled the wine once, and set it back down in front of him. “Then try harder. That’s why you’re here.”

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We talked only about business after that, even if it was clear that Marco wasn’t happy about it. Too many people were trying to meddle in my marriage, and I didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

It was almost midnight when I unlocked the front door and entered the entrance hall Light from the living room caught my attention. Elia wouldn’t be waiting in there. The guards had their own small house on the premises where they could spend the night.

Something suddenly darted toward me. It took me a moment to understand that it was the dog. She yapped, and I braced myself to grab her again before she destroyed another pair of my pants.

“No. Milo. Come here!” Valentina ordered. She appeared in the doorway to the living room, only dressed in a silken nightgown. She was barefoot and her hair was tousled as if she’d fallen asleep on the sofa.

To my surprise, the dog stopped its attack and trotted over to my young wife. She bent down and patted it. That was when I realized that most of its fur was gone.

“You took it to a hairdresser?”

Valentina laughed. The sound was light and effortless, and her eyes were bright as she straightened. “No, I don’t know any dog stylists. I cut her fur myself. She had too many knots. Brushing wasn’t working.”

I gave a short nod. Truthfully, I didn’t care much about the dog. If it weren’t for Stefan’s attachment to it, I would have gotten rid of the thing long ago. Every time I looked at it, memories I didn’t need resurfaced- memories I’d rather keep buried.

Still, the little thing sat pressed against Valentina’s leg as if it belonged there, as if I were the one trespassing in my own home. My attention shifted upward, to her. She was leaning casually against the doorframe, hair falling loose over her shoulders, robe slipping just enough to hint at the nightgown beneath. Lovely- too lovely for this hour.

“What are you doing up?” I asked, scanning the room for some sign of trouble.

She frowned slightly, pushing off the frame. “I was waiting for you to come home.”

I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the rack, buying myself a second before turning back. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head and closed the distance between us, soft and unhurried. Barefoot and draped in thin fabric, she looked impossibly young standing in front of me. The robe did little to hide her curves, and the sight of her pale skin covered in goose bumps made my throat tighten.

Her hand pressed lightly against my chest. The contact was tentative but firm enough to ground me. “God, it’s freezing outside,” she murmured, shivering.

“It’s winter,” I said automatically, though the words were meaningless. The truth was, her closeness had scattered my thoughts. “Answer my question, Valentina. Did something happen?”

She

gave a small, uncertain smile. “Nothing happened, Adrian. But I want to be here when you come back from work. Isn’t that what a wife does?”

For a moment, I just stared at her. Since I’d left my parents‘ house at eighteen, nobody had ever waited up for me. Serena never had, unless she had bad news or a complaint to deliver. So the sight of Valentina, looking at

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me with quiet expectancy, threw me off balance.

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“You don’t have to.” I said finally, my voice rougher than intended. “I work late. Long hours. You shouldn’t feel obliged to stay up.”

I pressed my hand gently against her lower back and guided her toward the staircase. “Let’s get you to bed”

She noted her chin up, eyes sparking with defiance. “I’m not a child, Adrian.”

The dog padded after us as Valentina stepped onto the stairs. I blocked its path with one arm.

“Why isn’t it locked in its room? It isn’t allowed upstairs.”

Valentina looked at me calmly, her hand resting on the banister. “Milo won’t stay in that room anymore.”

My brows arched at her audacity. Standing on the first step, she was nearly eye level with me, and she didn’t back down. “I don’t recall making that decision.”

“You didn’t,” she replied evenly. “but I did”

I gripped her hip, digging my fingers into the fabric of her robe. “I’m the master of this house.” Her strawberry–sweet scent drifted up, clouding my head and making it harder to hold on to my irritation.

She tipped her chin up. “Do you really expect me to ask for permission over every little thing? I can handle Milo. Adrian. Let me handle her.

“It won’t go upstairs,” I said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.

To my surprise, she didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded, turned, and gave the dog a quiet command. Milo paused, then trotted obediently back into the living room. Valentina’s voice softened as she added, “Her basket is in there. It’s supposed to be her safe haven.”

I shook my head, too drained to fight over a damn dog. Without another word, I started up the stairs. Valentina followed, her footsteps light but her silence heavy. I could feel her thoughts buzzing, feel her need to speak pressing against the quiet.

We entered the bedroom, and I closed the door behind us. “How did things go with my children?” I asked, keeping my tone clipped.

“Good,” she said quickly. “I went shopping with them. We’re getting to know each other. I’m trying to become their friend-*

“They don’t need a friend,” I cut in. “They need a mother. Someone who provides guidance and leads the way?

Her eyes flashed. “If that’s all they needed, you wouldn’t have married me. You’re already good at leading.”

I froze. Her boldness had taken me off guard. People usually bent under the weight of my presence. They didn’t talk back. Valentina did- again and again. And it lit a slow fire under my skin.

“I’m taking a shower,” I said coldly. “Go to bed. Try to sleep.” I didn’t wait for her reply. The bathroom door

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shut firmly behind me.

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Steam filled the room as I scrubbed away the day, taking my time, hoping by the time I returned she’d be asleep. She wanted to know me, to dig deeper. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give her that chance.

When I finally stepped out, clean and dressed for bed, she wasn’t asleep at all. She stood by the window, her slim frame outlined by the faint glow of the night sky. I stifled a sigh.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

She let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Because I think we need to talk. We are married.”

“I don’t see what we need to talk about.”

She stomped toward me, stopping so close that the strawberry scent flooded my nose again. “A lot. I want this marriage to work, but that won’t happen if we don’t spend time together. Do you usually come home this late?”

“Yes, frequently. I’m Underboss, Valentina.”

“My father is Underboss too, and so are many of my uncles, and trust me, they have more than enough time to waste on golf courses or on top of their mistresses.”

A laugh wedged itself in my throat, but I suppressed it. “My work ethic is very different from theirs.”

“As your wife I have a right to make demands so this marriage can work, and I’m asking you to be home for dinner so the kids and I can spend time with you.”

My anger rose again, even as a small part of me was pleased that she wanted to spend time with me. “This marriage is one of convenience.”

Her eyes flashed. “I suppose it’s very convenient for you to have me as your nanny and for your personal sex toy without the burden of having to talk to me.”

She was infuriating. I pulled her against me, my mouth so close to hers, for a moment I almost forgot myself. “We’ve had sex once, girl, so the pleasure factor in our marriage has been very limited and your claim doesn’t make any sense, and as far as your nanny qualities go, I’m not convinced.”

Her nose tilted up. “Then give me back to my parents, if I’m not satisfactory. Didn’t you stipulate some kind of return in the deal?”

“Over my dead body,” I growled and jerked her against me. I kissed her harshly, losing myself in that godforsaken sweetness that robbed me of my senses. I couldn’t control myself around her. I didn’t want to.

Remembering my promise, I ripped away from her and staggered a few steps back. I wouldn’t force her. “This wasn’t meant to happen.”

Valentina’s face was flushed. “Why not?”

Her question threw me off. “I told you I won’t sleep with you until you want me to.”

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She swallowed then smiled bashfully. And I knew what she’d say from the look of desire in her eyes before she uttered the words. “What if I want you to?” Her voice was low and hesitant.

My pulse throbbed in my temple from our altercation. It had excited me more than a little, but her words blasted the last shreds of my composure.

Despite the truth in her words, I couldn’t believe them. My muscles tensed. When I’d exited the bathroom, 1 felt exhausted. But now, any tiredness was replaced by eagerness, but my suspicion remained. “You want me

to?”

My voice was low, drenched with desire and warning. I took a step closer. Valentina shivered and her nipples puckered. Was she aroused or scared? Probably both.

She nodded. “I want you to.”

Another step closer. Blood pooled in my cock at her words. Still, my doubt remained. “Why? Last time was painful for you.”

“Not everything,” she admitted, blushing. “Not your mouth.”

My eyes darted to the apex of her thighs, hidden by her nightgown, remembering her taste and her scent. “Fuck.”

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