Binding Rose: A Dark Mafia Romance(31)

“Come here.”

She blinks twice as if English is a foreign language to her.

“I won’t ask again.”

“It didn’t seem like you asked the first time. It sounded more like an order.”

“Are you so keen to break your marriage vows to me so soon? If I recall, you did promise to obey me, did you not?”

The flash of hatred that crosses her chestnut gaze loosens the knot in my chest I didn’t realize was even there. Reluctantly, she bridges the gap between us but insists on leaving a few safe inches. Tired of her resistance, I snake my arm around her waist and pull her to me so fast her chest hits mine. She sucks in a startled breath, but doesn’t utter a word in retaliation at my manhandling her.

Like a rag doll needing instruction, I take both of her hands and place them around my neck while mine settle around her slender waist. Her cheeks are flaming red at how our bodies are pressed together, but her brown eyes continue to hold the same contempt as before.

We begin to sway back and forth in sync with the melody playing around us. Unlike with Shay, she isn’t as bashful in making eye contact with me. In fact, her piercing, menacing glower, intent on showing me she’s not one bit happy to be dancing with me, almost coaxes a smile out of me.

Almost.

When she absentmindedly diverts her attention away from me and onto the crowd watching us for a split second, I tighten my hold on her to remind her that I’m the only one that matters here. Her narrowed gaze rises to meet mine in displeasure.

“If your intention is to kill me in front of all your guests, then I’m sure there are more creative ways of doing it than smothering me to death,” she finally says through the fakest-ass smile I’ve ever seen on a woman.

“As much as the thought has crossed my mind, I have no intentions of killing you.”

“Why do I feel there is a yet left out of that statement?”

“You weren’t this vocal when my brother was dancing with you,” I rebuke, instead of giving her an answer.

“He wasn’t trying to suffocate me.”

“No. He was trying to fuck you.”

This time I do smile when her gorgeous eyes widen and her jaw falls to the floor in utter astonishment.

“Hmm. You’re what? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Given your age, I was under the assumption that I had gotten the more mature girl in the pack. I didn’t think you’d embarrass so easily. Or be this na?ve.”

“You didn’t embarrass me. And I’m not na?ve,” she bites back through gritted teeth. “Your brother didn’t… I mean he wasn’t trying to… to seduce me like you said.”

“Oh, no? Then what was he trying to do?”

“He was just trying to be nice. A trait I see isn’t common in the Kelly family.”

“Nice, you say? My brother has never been nice a day in his life. You’ve known him for a hot minute. I’ve known him his entire life. Who between us knows him and his true intentions better, I wonder?”

“Maybe you’re not as in tune with your brother as you think.”

“Believe me, acushla, I’m well aware of the thoughts running through my horny brother’s mind, as I am of most of my men here. Next time you feel the need to get groped, be more subtle and do it where lingering eyes can’t see you.”

Her nose crinkles in disgust.

“Thank you for taking a perfectly innocent and kind moment and twisting it into something indecent and ugly. I won’t forget it.”

“You’re welcome.”

On impulse, she turns her eyes away from mine, but then remembers herself and keeps them exactly where they should always be—on me.

For the remainder of the song, we don’t say another word to each other, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a silent battle of wills being fought between us. Like her namesake, this rose came with sharp-edged thorns, and she isn’t shy in using them to cut a man down if the need arises.

Unfortunately for her, no prick or cut she can inflict will ever cause me an ounce of pain. And if she’s not careful, she’ll learn the true meaning of the word agony soon enough.

But the night is still young.

Who knows?

Maybe I’ll give her just a little taste.

My cock hardens at the idea, and for the first time in a decade, I’m eager to perform my husbandly duties.





“We’re spending our wedding night back at the hotel?” Rosa asks, unable to hide her displeasure when I instruct our limo driver to take us to the Liberty Hotel where she stayed last night.

“Is the room not to your liking?” I cock a brow, wondering if her disapproval of where we are to start our so-called honeymoon has anything to do with her somehow learning that the place used to be a prison in its heyday before it was converted to the luxurious five-star hotel that it is now.

Some might have thought my choice of having my bride lay her head there her first night in Boston distasteful. Maybe even sadistically macabre.

I thought it was fitting.

If I’m to fulfill this imprisonment, then I might as well start it off in a place that holds some form of symbolism to it.

“No. It’s fine,” she mumbles, turning her head away from me, so I can’t read the disappointment on her face.

If this marriage wasn’t a sham, then maybe I wouldn’t be so reluctant to take her back to my place tonight. But as circumstances stand, just the idea of having a Hernandez walking around my sanctuary, touching my things, or running the risk of her sweet floral perfume floating all throughout my apartment nauseates me. I’m going to need some time to get used to married life, and I’d rather do that in neutral territory before I invite the enemy into my home.