Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Azra, Matteo,” he greets, as if welcoming us home after our honeymoon instead of watching a goon paid to kill pull away his only daughter from her husband. “Although the route to matrimony was curvier than your mother’s naturally dried hair, traditions must take place.”
My stomach gurgles. I completely forgot about the tradition I assumed I’d skip since no one in my family knew about my plans to marry. Even their attendance at my vows didn’t remind me.
Nobody from my family attended the reception, so I thought I’d be in the clear.
It was foolish of me. My father sees the sheet-staining ritual as a more vital part of a wedding than giving away his only daughter. It’s a symbolic test of unity and legitimacy—the ultimate test of loyalty.
My father’s favorite kind of trial.
I force my voice to stay steady. “Why? If you believe Matteo’s claim that we broke the non-penetration clause, why do we need to stain the sheets? It’s pointless if I am no longer a virgin.”
He ignores me completely.
He only focuses on Matteo.
“There are no ill feelings,” he says, smiling like a snake. “But we’ve been deceived before. Without proof that this coupling is legitimate, I have no reason not to ignore the utter disrespect spat in my face today.” His first words are for Matteo, but his final sneered ones are for me.
Hearing the threat in his tone in the same manner as me, Matteo stiffens but holds his ground. “We’re not doing anything—”
“You will complete the bloody-sheets ritual,” my father says, cutting him off. “In front of these men.”
Matteo’s jaw clenches. “No.”
My father’s smile widens. “Henry isn’t my boss, son. I do not answer to him. Which means I can dispose of you both without consequence.” My lower lip quivers. “Though her death will be a little more delayed since I promised these men time with her to do with as they pleased if you did not follow my order.”
“Fucking touch her and I will kill you.” Matteo’s threat isn’t solely for my father. It’s also for the men circling us like sharks.
“If only you could,” my father says, voice mocking. “Do you not recognize the faces of the men around you? They’re part of the Cosa Nostra, which means you can’t touch them.”
“If they touch my wife, I am well within my rights to kill them.”
“That will be a little hard to do when you’re choking on your last breath,” my father snaps back, his anger rising. He is not used to barking orders and not having them followed. Matteo is the first man I’ve seen go against him.
“Baba,” I murmur, silently pleading. “Please.”
I know my father.
He doesn’t bluff.
He doesn’t threaten.
He only issues promises he plans to keep.
And that is the sole reason I say, “We’ll do it.”
Matteo whips around. “No. You don’t need to do this.”
“It’s fine,” I say quietly. “I want to.”
I don’t, but I need him to leave this room breathing, and this is the only way I can guarantee that.
My father steps aside, revealing a white ceremonial cloth laid out across the foot of the mattress. “A simple smear of blood will prove your unity, and no one will question it again.”
Matteo looks at me, eyes burning. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” I whisper, pulling away from the man holding me captive.
He lets me go, but I hear his throat work hard to swallow when Matteo glares at him. My father was smart to seek the help of Matteo’s rivals for this. If Matteo loses his temper, he’ll be dead.
This is a lose-lose situation for him.
The remembrance of how he instantly backed down when I placed my body on the line sees me snatching up his hand and guiding him into the hub of the room. Although I haven’t seen my mother in hours, there are signs she has been here. Oils perfect for perineal repair sit on the bedside table, alongside a bottle of lubricant.
Matteo’s steps taper when he spots the same products. “Fuck, micina. I don’t think I can do this.”
One man cocks his gun, and my throat dries enough for my words to come out clear. “Why? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been dying for this since you drove me to Lombardo’s.”
Matteo steps ahead of me again, fury radiating off him. “This isn’t right. I will not disrespect you like this. I can take them.”
His last words are whispers, but my father still hears them. “And she will be dead before you spin around.” I plead for my father to pretend for even a second that he loves me when he lines up the scope of his weapon with the crinkle between my brows. “This also isn’t about disrespecting her. It’s tradition. You married into our world, so you will respect our traditions.”
Matteo’s voice is low and dangerous. “I’ll respect her… and only her.”