Page 21 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

I waited a long time. My husband never came.

Chapter Seven

Dante

The door at the end of the hallway stood ajar, warm yellow light spilling through the crack. I stood there for a long time.

Alfredo had sent all the guests home. The whole manor had gone quiet, just the occasional clatter of servants clearing dishes downstairs. The champagne from the reception still lingered on my tongue, bitter as hell.

When I pushed the door open, Elena was sitting on the edge of the bed. She'd changed out of that ruined dress, wearing a soft nightgown now, hair loose over her shoulders. She looked fragile. Beautiful.

She lifted her head when she heard me. Her eyes held something complicated—fear, maybe hope, and a kind of prepared calm.

Her hands rested on her knees. Fingers twisting, then releasing.

"You came back." Barely a whisper.

I didn't answer. Just closed the door behind me. The lock clicked loud in the quiet room. Her shoulders flinched.

"Scared?" I laughed, unbuttoning my shirt, pulling my tie loose. "You had plenty of nerve this afternoon going after Miss Vitali. What's the act now? Think playing scared will make me drop my guard?"

I kept at it, watching her face drain white. Felt good, honestly. I walked to the window. Outside, the manor had sunk into darkness, garden lights shimmering on the pool like scattered gold.

"Salvador must think he made the perfect choice." My voice was ice. I watched her reflection in the glass.

She looked up. Confused. "What?"

"You were perfect today, Elena. Toasting, smiling, working every person in that room. Salvador must be thrilled." The words came out poisonous. "Makes me wonder—are you trying to marry me, or marry him?"

That got her on her feet. I saw her fists clench, then force themselves open. That restraint only pissed me off more. How long was she going to keep this up?

Every muscle in my body tensed. I crossed to her, leaned down, one hand on the headboard behind her.

She had to tilt her head back to look at me. Those eyes, so close. Lashes trembling. Corners already red.

"You worked so hard to get into this bed." My voice dropped. "Well, you made it. But I'm telling you now—there won't be a next time."

Something shifted in her. Panic, maybe. She threw her arms around my neck, pressed her soft body against mine. She closed her eyes, lashes fluttering, tried to kiss me.

"Are you insane?" I shoved her back hard. She came at me again, reaching for my hand.

I caught her scent. Memories slammed into me—red sheets, that chaotic night with Elena, everything flooding back at once.

"I..." She stammered, looking terrified but forcing herself forward. "I want to have your child."

My child?

"You've got a death wish."

The words came out cold. I saw the bathroom. Grabbed her arm and hauled her up. She stumbled, couldn't keep her footing, fell once as I dragged her forward. Didn't care.

I kicked the bathroom door open and threw her inside. She hit the marble counter. Pain flashed across her face.

"That's all your sick little mind thinks about." I looked down at her. "You can stay in here tonight and think about what you've done. You come out, I'll kill you."

I slammed the door. The lock clicked shut.

The bed was covered in those disgusting flowers. I couldn't stand it. Dropped onto the couch instead. Found a bottle on the table, tilted it back, drank deep.