“Good, then. I will make it clear to all of the families that Aria Grasso is my wife, and no deal or arrangement will be made to stop it or we’ll go to war.”
“You are one determined man,” he chuckles. We shake hands, sealing our verbal contract.
“I know what I want, and I seize it.”
“Very well. Let us join the rest of the men.”
We exit his study and walk back to the meeting room with our men following behind us. I refuse to look for my bride, making sure to hold up my end of the bargain. Tomorrow, I’ll make sure eyes are on her at all times, reporting back to me when I can’t observe her myself.
As we enter the room, Don Grasso takes his seat at the head of the table and says, “Mr. Bianchi would like to make a statement.”
I nod and clear my throat. “I’m going to be very clear, so there’s no mistaking me or the words coming out of my mouth. Aria Grasso will be my wife in two years’ time. There will be no offers for her hand by anyone in any family. No deals, no sneaking in to try to take my queen. I am clear?”
They all sit around the table, awed into silence. As my father’s second-in-command, I’m filling in for him today and am not the Don just yet, but I refuse to be looked on as weak by any of these men. “Well, gentleman, do we have an understanding?”
“Two years? You might change your mind by then.”
“You will learn that I don’t change my mind on anything. I’ve been given Don Grasso’s blessing under the guise that she remains unaware of the attachment. So, should anyone speak of it before it’s time, I will cut your tongue out personally. Do we understand each other, gentleman?”
A round of nods and agreements goes around the room, earning me a smile from Grasso himself. We continue the meeting without another interruption. Keeping the peace and keeping the cops out of our hair is the biggest priority for our families, so we do our best not to step on each other’s toes.
As I take my leave, I steel myself for walking away from my queen, but it’s a must. Tomorrow, I will take in her beauty even from a distance.
Chapter One
Domani
Present Day
Today’s the big day. A text on my phone tells me what I already know, Aria’s pissed. They’ve just broken the news to my queen that she’s marrying me. Distant stomping can be heard as she runs up to her room and slams the door. “Fucking asshole. I can’t believe it. Ugh,” she hisses to the sky. She flops down on her bed, screaming into her pillow. I watch her from my computer for the next thirty minutes, listening to the birthday girl’s rage all the while waiting for her to notice her birthday present on her dresser. The one I picked out myself. She rolls onto her side, spotting the box. Snatching it as she sits up in her bed, she opens the envelope and reads the card.
“To my queen,
I wish you a very happy birthday. The last one we will ever spend apart. -Domani”
“Pretty penmanship,” she remarks, setting it aside. Tugging on the red ribbon, she frees it and then opens the box. Inside is a bracelet with several charms, including a painter’s palette. A gasp and a squeal pass her lips briefly before she looks to the door and then back at the bracelet.
“Nice, but he can’t buy me,” she huffs, tossing it carelessly into the box and then onto her dresser. She can be upset, but I know in her heart she loves the gift. I’ve learned everything I could from my queen from a distance. Her love of painting being one of many interesting pieces that make up Aria Grasso, soon to be Aria Bianchi.
Anger from her slips away as she sits there and stews. Once again she picks up the piece and walks over to the trash. I think she’s gonna toss it which will get her ass reddened. It’s one thing if she didn’t like it, but she’s doing it to spite me. She drops the box in the bin, but quickly changes her mind and scoops it out. “He’s lucky I love it,” she mutters as she heads into her bathroom.
I hear the shower turn on, and I jump up to lock my office door. Damn she’s got me by the balls. I whip my cock out of my slacks, stroking the already semi-hard shaft. The sound of the water running stiffens my length even further, visualizing my future wife, my queen, naked. It’s only been two weeks since I had the cameras put in. Beating my meat, I bust my load quickly, swiping off the sticky mess with a pair of Aria’s panties that I confiscated from her room the day I set up the cameras.
I'm not a total sick fuck because I only did it the two weeks before she turned eighteen. Still, I never put one in her bathroom, although the listening device is activated next to the bathroom door for safety precautions. The thought of her falling and slipping has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. It’s fucking stupid how obsessed I am with her well-being. I’m about to tuck my dick back inside my trousers when the sounds change.
Moans come from her, catching me by surprise, getting me hard all over again. Immediately I call John, the guard who keeps watch outside her door. "Get the hell away from her door. I'll tell you when you can come back,” I snarl, teeth gnashing as I give my order.
"Yes, sir."
I end the call and return all my attention to Aria and the little performance she's giving me. Damn, it's music to my ears that goes on for a few minutes, but then suddenly stops with a frustrated sigh. She turns off the water and then exits the bathroom wrapped up in a fluffy white towel that covers her from her perfect tits down to the middle of her thighs.
My queen can't get herself off. I wonder if this is a new thing or if she's been strumming her kitty often. I watch the way she moves as she finds the clothes she's going to wear, tension visible in her shoulders.
A knock at the door causes her to jump. “What is it?”
“Sweetie, we’re going dress shopping in an hour,” she says through the door.
Swinging the door open in nothing but a towel is going to get her in a world of trouble. “This isn’t how I want to spend my birthday, mama.”
“It will be fine,” Signora Grasso says, nudging Aria back into the room before closing the door.
She walks to the dresser and drops her fucking towel, giving me her back and that juicy ass I want to redden and bite into. “Whatever. It’s not like I get a choice in anything. Fucking medieval family.” I watch her slide on a pair of lace black and red panties with little cherries on them. I’m about to come from the view, but I control the animalistic need to focus on my bride-to-be.
“Watch your mouth young lady. Besides, I’m sure you’ll find Domani to be an excellent husband.” Thank you, Signora Grasso.
“I have to get dressed. How much time do I have?” she asks, turning slightly with her hands on her hips, tits bouncing nicely from this side view.
“Twenty minutes. I’m glad you already showered.” Her mother walks back out of the room and Aria slams the door, clearly pissed about the arrangement, so she slips on the tiniest dress she can find, knowing that she's going to attract attention when she goes out to try on wedding dresses. She’s lucky she put on a bra before I find myself interrupting their shopping trip. Still, I'm about to snap and break some faces today, it seems. When I look at the dress again, it looks like the one she wore the day I first noticed her. Could it be? Does she know it?