Nico (Ruin & Revenge #1)(67)
“You want to use me,” she said bitterly.
“No, bella. Marriage is not something I have seen bring any joy to people, and it is not something I ever wanted. Even the old-school political marriages never sat well with me. I regret that my reaction to your proposal caused you pain.” He reached for her, stroked her cheek. This time he wasn’t denied, and she shuddered beneath his touch.
“I felt humiliated.”
“Mia, tesoro … non era mia intenzione ferirti—I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You grovel well in Italian,” she said, her voice softening. “It seems it’s not just the language of love.”
Taking a chance, Nico drew closer, brushed a kiss over her forehead. “If I have to marry, I want a willing partner. I can protect you with this marriage. I can protect your sister. I can end a war. We may not have love between us, but we have respect and a commitment beyond ourselves.”
Nico felt a curious stab in his chest. He cared for Mia. So much that the thought of losing her had almost been unbearable. But he didn’t want to call it love. He’d lived through the devastation of his mother’s tears, and watched men crumble. Love was not an experience he wished to have.
“If we do this,” she bit out, “and I’m not saying yes, you won’t be telling me what to do. I’ll continue working, and you won’t interfere with my business.”
“Of course, you may continue to work.” He smiled, tasting success.
“What would you expect of me?”
His lips quivered at the corners. “What you offered. You would have to play the role of a proper Mafia wife. You would need to dress and act the part in public.”
Mia snorted. “Submissive.”
“Supportive,” he countered, stroking her cheek. “But when we are alone together, I want this.” His finger skimmed the crescents of her breasts, just visible about the V of her T-shirt. “I want you the way you are, with your kick-ass boots, your torn stockings, leather and lace, and these outfits that drive me fucking crazy with the need to tear them off you. I want your angry feminist punk music, and your silver chains, and the ink that tells me you are not a conventional woman.” His hands found her hips, and he drew her toward him. “I want your strength, your sweetness, and all your sass.”
She twisted her lips to the side, considering. “I’m not wearing a wedding dress.”
“If we want everyone to believe it is real, it needs to look real. We can rent something just for the ceremony. Ten minutes at most. I have an associate who runs a store on the Strip. Anything else?” He cupped her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over her soft cheeks.
“No more sex. It will complicate things.”
That was unexpected. And totally unacceptable. “I can’t agree to that,” he said firmly. “If we get married, even if it isn’t real, I want everything.” He smoothed one hand over her curves. Even the simple negotiation with her was making him hard; there was no way he could share a bed and keep his hands off a woman who aroused him the minute she walked into a room. “I want a marriage in every sense of the word. You will live with me, sleep in my bed, and give yourself to me. You will be mine. Completely. In every sense of the word.”
“Until it ends,” she added. “Because when the war is over and you’re the boss, and we’ve found a way to keep Kat safe, we won’t need each other anymore. And you did say you would agree to a divorce.”
“Until it ends.” He agreed with great reluctance, not just because part of him didn’t want it to end, but also because he knew it wouldn’t end. She didn’t seem to understand that, in a way, this was a sacrifice for him, too. He had never wanted a marriage, and the one he had envisioned was one where his heart would never be at risk.
Mia fiddled with the zipper on his leather jacket. He had forgone his suit and vehicle for the speed and freedom of his bike in his pursuit. “The sex part is going to make it harder when it’s over. Especially if I have to see you dressed like this.”
“Are you afraid you might fall for me?” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, breathing in the light, floral scent of her perfume. His Mia was a study in contrasts. With a soft moan, she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access, and he feathered kisses down her neck.
“I’m afraid you won’t let me go,” she whispered.
She was right to be afraid. Nico had never considered marrying any woman other than Rosa Scozzari, but if had to pick a woman it would be Mia. She intrigued and challenged him, enticed and excited him. She was brave, intelligent, and confident; the most sensual woman he had ever met.
He pulled her into his arms, his hand coursing over her body, in and out of her delectable curves. “You are a hard woman to resist. You are courageous, selfless, beautiful, and bold. I want to own every inch of you. I want my hands in your hair, my lips on your breasts, and my cock buried inside you. I want to take you in every way a woman can be taken. I want you to come with my name on your lips.” He slid one hand under her T-shirt, cupped and squeezed her breast.
“Well, that’s better than ‘We get on fine.’”
He turned his attention to her other breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until it peaked beneath her bra. Christ. He ached for her. If not for the fact her father was on the hunt, and his men were waiting outside with Kat, he would take her right now.