Merciless devil sons of.., p.6
Merciless Devil (Sons of Valentino #2), page 6
Shaking off the depressing thoughts, I push to my feet, tugging Savvy up with me. “Thank fuck that shit’s over. Now the fun part begins.”
“The fun part?” She raises a brow.
I look down to our joined hands. She hasn’t pulled away yet. She’s always the first to pull away. I’ll never let go of her willingly. If she doesn’t let go, we’ll be joined for life. She must notice where my mind is because, just as that thought flits between my ears, she yanks her hand free.
“The drinking part! That’s why people come to weddings, Savvy, the free booze.” I smile, even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.
“Right, because you can’t afford booze otherwise.”
We walk out of the church. I lead her over to the car Rocco and Joey are positioned outside of. As we approach, Rocco opens the back door. I wait for Savvy to climb in before I jump in next to her. I had Joey prepare an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. I hate the shit, but I know Savvy loves it.
“Are we celebrating?” she asks.
“Yep.” I pick up the bottle, unwrapping the foil from the top.
“What are we celebrating?”
Popping the cork, I hold the bottle out so I don’t get the shit all over me. I fill a flute to the midway point and hand it to her before pouring myself one too. Then I raise my glass to her and toast, “To undying love.”
Her eyes gloss over. “To undying love,” she whispers back, quickly bringing the brim to her lips.
“So, ya think we’ll have a church wedding when we finally get our shit together?” I ask her.
“What happened to Elvis? He was growing on me.” She laughs.
This is what we do. We joke about us ending up together; we avoid the feelings we actually have for each other because it’s easier. I’m not prepared to lose her, and she’s not ready for anything other than friendship. At this point, I don’t think she ever will be. Still, there’s that little flicker of fucking hope that won’t let me give up on her.
“We are in Vegas, Savvy. Say the word and I’ll have a ring on your finger quicker than you can blink, babe.” I tap my glass against hers, then swallow the remaining liquid.
“How about we just go and celebrate our friends, and we can worry about our lives another night,” she says, looking out the window while avoiding my gaze.
“Sure, sounds like a fucking blast,” I mutter.
“You’re wasted, like really, really wasted,” Savvy yells into my ear. Why she’s yelling, I have no idea. The party’s finishing up. The happy couple has left for their honeymoon.
“So are you.” I pop her on her nose.
“Let’s do it,” she says.
“Do what?”
“The Elvis thing, let’s do it. Right now.”
“Are you asking me to marry you, Savannah? Because if you are, the answer is yes. It will always be a big fat yes!”
“Then, yes—wait.” She presses a hand to my chest. “We need a license or something, don’t we?”
I pull out the piece of paper that’s been burning a hole in my pocket since we arrived. Call me wishful. Fucking pathetic. Whatever. I don’t give a shit. I’ve been carrying around a marriage license for Savvy and me all fucking weekend.
Did I forge her signature to get it? Fuck yes, I did.
Do I regret doing that? Not a fucking chance.
“I have one.” I hold the document higher when she goes to reach for it. “Uh, I think I’ll keep this.” I laugh before tucking it back into my pocket.
“So, are we doing this? Are you actually going to marry me, Matteo Valentino?”
“You know I’d marry you in a heartbeat, Savvy, but why now? I hope you’re aware that, if we do this, there’s no going back.” I pull her into my body.
“I don’t want to go back. I want to marry you because you are my soul mate, Matteo. I don’t want to waste time. I don’t want to look back years from now and wonder what if, you know?”
I look into her eyes. We’re both wasted. “This is a bad idea. We’re drunk. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” I suggest.
“Are you scared, Tao? Because I don’t think I can marry a scaredy-cat anyway.”
I laugh, a full belly laugh. The kind only she can manage to get out of me.
Half an hour later, we find ourselves standing in front of an Elvis impersonator. “Place the ring on her finger and repeat after me.”
I slide the cheap wedding band onto her finger. “I promise I’ll buy you a new one,” I tell her.
“I don’t need a fancy ring. I love this one. I’m never taking it off.” She smiles and stumbles on her feet slightly.
“Okay. I, state your name…” Elvis instructs.
“I, Matteo John Valentino…”
“Take, state her name….”
“Take Savannah Marie St. James…”
“As my lawfully wedded wife.”
I repeat Elvis’s words.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I don’t have to be told twice. I’ve been waiting for this moment for fucking years. My lips slam onto hers. Savvy’s mouth opens for me. I pick her up bridal-style and carry her out of the chapel.
By the time we exit the elevator, her dress is hitting the floor. I take her hand and we both stumble into the bedroom. She starts to unbutton my shirt. I decide it’s taking too long and rip it open, pulling the fabric down my arms and throwing it across the room. Next I undo my belt and the top button of my pants. Then I take a step back and look at her. My bride.
“Una fottuta bellezza senza sforzo,” I say. “I fucking love you, Savannah Valentino.”
She laughs. “Probably not as much as I love you,” she says, climbing onto the bed.
I follow her, straddling her hips. My hands roam up and down her body. A body that is finally mine, a body that I plan to worship all fucking night. Cupping her naked breasts in my hands, I lean down, placing a gentle kiss to the top of each one. “These are mine now, Savvy.”
“Ah, pretty sure they’re still mine.”
I shake my head. “Nope, mine. And this…” I kiss my way down her stomach, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Mine.”
“Yeah? What else is yours?”
I smirk. Sitting upright again, I slide her panties down her thighs. She helps kick them off before opening her legs wide, placing one on each side of my own. My mouth waters as I stare down at her pussy. “This.” I run a single finger up her wet slit. “Has always been fucking mine.”
“Mmm, maybe you should do something with it then.” She smiles as she reaches for the zipper on my pants. Sliding it lower, she digs her hand inside and wraps it around my cock.
“Fuck, hold that thought.” I push to my feet and drop my pants to the floor, kicking my shoes and socks off along the way. My palm fists my cock as I kneel back on the bed before positioning myself between her thighs. “Are you sure you want this, Savvy?” I ask her, pumping myself a few times.
“Are you sure you want this?” she asks, running her own hands up and down her body.
“There’s never been a doubt in my mind, babe.” I want to fucking lick, bite, and suck every inch of her skin. But, more than that, I want to bury my dick inside that sweet fucking pussy of hers. I push in slowly. My eyes roll to the back of my head. Leaning down, I capture her lips with mine. “Fuck, Savvy, you’re so fucking perfect.” I slam home. She’s so fucking wet and ready for me.
“Fuck me, Matteo,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist.
“I don’t want to fuck you. I want to make love to you,” I tell her. “I want this to last forever.”
“And you can, next time. Right now, I need you to make me come. Please.” Her hands circle around my neck, pulling my mouth back onto hers.
“With fucking pleasure,” I grit out between kisses. Pushing up on my knees, I lift her legs and rest her ankles on my shoulders before leaning forward again. I can feel my cock go even deeper inside her. Her back arches off the bed and I swear she looks like a fucking angel. Her blonde hair fans out around her like a halo. Her pale skin glistens with a sheen of light sweat. “Hold on, babe. This ride’s going to be a rough one.”
“Yes!” she moans as I circle my hips, grinding my pelvis down onto her clit. Pulling free, I thrust back in fast, hard, then circle my hips again when I bottom out. “Oh god, Matteo. Don’t stop,” she screams.
“Don’t plan to,” I grunt, repeating the motion over and over while quickening my pace until I feel her whole body tighten up. Her pussy squeezes the fuck out of my cock.
I can’t hold back anymore. I explode, falling off that cliff face-first with her.
11
SAVVY
Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.
Mark 10:9
Shit, shit, double shit! What on earth did I do? I peek an eye open. Matteo lies flat on his back, his tanned toned pecs stretched out with one arm covering his eyes. My heart hurts for what I’m about to do.
I slide out of the bed. I don’t want to. I don’t want to run, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I hate myself for fleeing. Again. But I also don’t know any other way to protect my heart. To protect myself from the hurt that’ll happen if I stay.
It might not happen today, but it will happen. I’ll get comfortable. I’ll get complacent and then I’ll lose him. I’ll lose everything. So I do the only thing I can. I throw on a pair of sweats and a shirt. I pick up my shoes and tiptoe out of the door. I count down the seconds as I wait for the elevator to reach this floor, sighing in relief when the doors finally close and the carriage begins its descent. My heart pounds, and my stomach twists. I should go back up there. I should just talk to him. He’ll understand. I know he will.
I keep telling myself to go back, but when the doors open into the lobby, I run. Hailing the first cab I see, I jump in the back seat. “Where to?” the driver asks.
Good question. Where exactly am I going?
“Ah, the airport,” I tell him. Opening the search browser on my phone, I pull up the first flight from Las Vegas to New York. There isn’t anything for hours. By the time I get on one of those, Matteo will have found me. I need to get out of this city. I have one option. Only one. My father.
I press the green dial button and wait for him to answer. “Savannah? What can I do for you?” he greets me with a questioning tone.
No hello. No how’ve you been… Just straight down to business. What do you want?
“I need the jet. Can you have it ready to fly me back to New York in twenty minutes?”
There’s silence on his end for a moment. I’m about to hang up. It was a mistake to think that he’d help me. “Are you in trouble?” he asks.
“No, I just forgot I had a very important meeting, and I can’t get a flight out of Vegas that will make it back in time.” The lie slips from my lips easily.
“I didn’t realize you were in town. We should have met for dinner,” he says.
“I’m only here for a quick trip, a friend’s wedding,” I respond, while my mind replays the other wedding that transpired last night.
“Okay. Meet Jordan at the hanger. He’ll fly you home,” Dad says.
“Thank you.”
“And, Savannah?”
“Yes?”
“If you’re in trouble, I do hope you know you can come to me for help whenever you need it.” His words choke me up. My father has never told me this before. I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew. I knew I could go to him. Though I don’t think I’ve ever really doubted that he would help me. He’d just gloat and give me a million I told you sos in the process.
“Thank you, Dad. I do know that.” I hang up.
“Change of plans. Can you take me to the North Las Vegas airport instead please?” I ask the cabbie.
“Sure thing, ma’am,” he says.
“Thank you.” I lean my head back and close my eyes.
What the hell am I doing? My leg shakes with nerves. Please don’t hate me, Matteo.
I stare at my phone in my hand. I should turn it off. I know the minute he wakes up, he’s going to call, message me. Demand to know where I am. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him once he does manage to catch up with me. I can just imagine it now: Hey, so how about a divorce? An annulment?
Somehow I don’t think he’s going to be as receptive to those requests as I’d like him to be. I don’t want to hurt him. I love him. I really do. I just know I won’t survive him. I’m not cut out to be the kind of wife he needs, the kind of wife who can handle the world he lives in. I struggle coping most days just being his best friend. The constant worry—the knowledge that he’s out in the city doing things that could possibly get him killed or sent to prison—is not easy to live with.
I honestly don’t know how his mother does it. Holly Valentino is the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. I remember how much she helped me when I was twelve and my own mother died. Holly was there for me whenever I needed her. I’ve always been able to talk to her. She taught me about periods, when I was thirteen and phoned Matteo crying. He didn’t know what to do so he sent his mom over to my house. Holly even took me dress shopping for prom. And she was the one who screamed and cheered for me at my graduations.
Sure, my dad was in the crowd too, but you wouldn’t have known it. It was the Valentino family who acted like I’d just cured cancer each time I walked across the stage. I want nothing more than to call her now, ask her for advice. Let her tell me what I should do. Except this time is different. I just ran off and eloped with her son. How the hell am I supposed to go to her with that?
There isn’t anyone I can go to. There isn’t anyone who will understand how I feel. I just need to figure this out. On my own. Somehow.
I expected my phone to be buzzing with incoming messages and calls from Matteo when I landed in New York, but it’s been radio silent. It’s odd, and I’m both grateful and worried. What if something happened to him after I left? What if he’s finally had enough and is going to cut all ties with me?
I really didn’t think this through very well. I can’t lose his friendship. I can’t lose him. However, I also know I can’t be married to him.
I jump in the car that’s waiting for me when I land, thinking my father must have ordered it. It’s not until the door closes that I realize my mistake. “Ma’am, how was your flight?” A familiar face greets me through the rearview mirror.
“Wh-What are you doing here, Rocco?” I try the door handle but it doesn’t budge. “Unlock the door, Rocco.”
“Sorry, boss’s orders, ma’am,” he says as the car starts moving.
“What orders?” I ask. Rocco looks at me and smiles. He won’t answer. I knew he wouldn’t. There’s nothing I can do but sit back and wait to be delivered to the boss. “Is he okay?” I continue after a few minutes of silence.
“Define okay?” Rocco replies.
I don’t respond. By that answer, I know Matteo is losing his mind.
Fifteen minutes later, the car stops out front of my apartment building. I’m confused but I’m not about to question it. Maybe I can at least shower, change my clothes, and come up with what the hell I’m going to say to Matteo. Sagging against the elevator wall, I count each of the floors until the doors finally open on mine.
I half expected Rocco to follow me inside, but when I looked back, he was still stationed at the building’s entrance. Unlocking the door, I walk into my apartment and stop in my tracks as my eyes land on a very pissed off Matteo currently standing in my foyer.
12
MATTEO
In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.
– Sun Tzu, The Art of War
I’ve felt this kind of betrayal before. The first time I woke up after we finally gave in to each other, and Savvy was gone. I’m a fucking idiot for thinking this time would be any different. It is fucking different though. I didn’t just spend a night of passion with my best friend. I spent the night with my fucking wife. She doesn’t get to run again. I won’t let her.
I knew when I woke up and she wasn’t in the bed that she’d fled again. And I knew she’d come back to her apartment. I didn’t have to track her phone to know that. I also knew I’d beat her there. Here. judging by the shock on her face right now, she underestimated me. She thought she’d have time before I chased her down.
“Good flight?” I ask her. My hands fist in my pockets. I want to reach out and grab her. Pull her up against me. But I don’t. Not yet.
“What’s going on?” she questions, peeking behind me.
I have ten guys sorting through her things. There are boxes everywhere. “I’m helping you pack.” I smile.
“Stop. Tell them to leave, Matteo. Now.” She throws her bag down on the entry table.
“No.”
Her eyes widen. I think we’re both shocked that I just uttered those words. “What do you mean no?” She positions her hands on her hips.
“I mean no. I’m not telling them to stop. Your shit needs packing. What kind of husband would I be if I left it all for you to do?” I raise an eyebrow at her. I also don’t fucking miss the way she flinches when I uttered that word. Husband.
“We need to talk about this, Matteo. Alone. Tell them to leave,” she says.
“Oh, we’re going to talk all right. Just as soon as we get home.”
“I am home,” she hisses.
Tilting my head to the side, I eye her up and down. “No, you’re not. Put your shoes back on. We’re leaving.”
“You can leave, along with all these assholes touching my things. I’m staying. Don’t let the door slam you on the way out, Matteo.” She tries to step around me.
