Scorned Vows: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Scorned Fate)

A woman kissed my husband, and I ran away.

Instead of a blushing bride resplendent in tiers of tulle and taffeta, I was a dejected one hiding in a room reserved for our bridal party. I sat in the middle of the couch under layers of misery.

I was in an arranged marriage. I wasn’t in love with my groom. But seeing a woman kiss him where my lips had been earlier did its job of crushing my hopeful, romantic heart. That one day he would fall madly in love with me. That one day we’d have that happily ever after.

“What are you doing here?”

Crying muffled my ears, and I didn’t hear the opening of the door. I inched closer to the end of the couch away from Mamma, as if that would save me from the scathing whip of her disapproval. I was too battered to stand up to her high standards, especially since I was sure my sobbing had ruined the carefully applied makeup.

“Nattie!” Her imperious voice lashed my back. “Everyone is looking for you!”

Her hand touched my shoulder, and I had no choice but to turn around.

“Why are you—” The look of horror on her face only confirmed what I suspected. “Dio mio.”

I conjured up a smile that would satisfy Mamma’s societal sensibilities, but the continued censure on her face told me I failed. “Do I look that bad?”

Her mouth tightened. She hauled me from the couch and marched me to the row of chairs in front of makeshift mirrors. “If someone found you this way…”

She let it hang. The silence weighed more than the words she didn’t say. Everything should be perfect for my mother, Elena Conte—former beauty queen and wife of the don of the most powerful criminal organization in Italy, the Galluzo mafia.

“Is this about that woman?” She grabbed the cotton balls, drenched one with eye-makeup remover and started to scrub away the evidence of my tears. We had a team of makeup artists, but I was certain Mamma didn’t want them to witness my humiliation and gossip about it after. For Mamma, pride and appearances were everything. I spied my reflection, and I looked like a cousin to a raccoon rather than the society bride they expected me to be. While I subjected myself to Mamma’s ministrations, I closed my eyes and twisted my rings. Even without seeing the giant diamond of the engagement ring, I was certain it taunted me.

“It’s bad taste that she’s here,” Mamma sniffed. “But I hardly saw anything inappropriate coming from Luca.”

Luca Moretti.

My husband.

The morning started out full of hope and excitement. Anxiety was present, but it was more rooted in the unknown. I didn’t know how to react when I saw him with his former girlfriend or mistress or whatever one called her nowadays—the woman a mobster kept on the side.

“I told you to expect it.”

Bitterness tinged the laugh I forced out. “What, Mamma? Give me a break, okay? It’s my wedding day. I didn’t expect to get slapped with the rules.”

Slapped was putting it mildly. I had just returned from the restroom where I refreshed my lipstick in anticipation of the cake-cutting, the garter, and the throwing of the bouquet. At the mouth of the hallway, I spotted Luca talking to his consigliere. I lingered for a few seconds to admire my handsome groom. And then she sashayed in. She just walked up to him and greeted him intimately with a kiss on the mouth and her body pressed against his. I couldn’t pin down the emotions that tore at my chest. It was humiliation. It was hurt and betrayal. Betrayal to myself because I indulged in girlish dreams. Betrayal from Luca, because as his wife, I deserved respect. He’d been an attentive fiancé. Naturally, I had affection for him, even infatuation. Deep infatuation. Our whirlwind courtship was a series of dinner dates, flowers, chocolates, and an array of extravagant gifts.

In an arranged marriage, those who were fortunate found love. And I had hoped. It was too soon for it to be love. But today was supposed to be the beginning of our life together.

It was supposed to be perfect.

Mamma spun me around and glared the thoughts out of my head. “Daughter. Hear me now and understand. You married a powerful man. Women love powerful men. I told you this. It’s inevitable they will stray. I taught you how to keep them. Obviously, that redhead wants to see if she can steal him from you, but remember, you are the one wearing the ring. As long as you have the status as his wife, that’s all that matters in the end.”

Mamma had hammered this abysmal outlook into matrimonial life since the time I had my first period. She scoffed at all my romance novels, which was why I hid them from her.

“Give him children,” she added. “A son preferably.”

I winced because all they had was me, a daughter who was a replica of her mother. She tried to mold me in her image. When my skin was too pale, she’d make me wear the brightest red lipstick. My brows were too thick and dark for her liking, so they’d been tweezed or bleached to within an inch of my life. I was a natural brunette, but I’d been blonde since I turned sixteen. I didn’t even remember myself as a brunette anymore.

As usual, when Mamma was in her element of applying makeup while on a lecture train, she didn’t notice she’d insulted herself by failing to provide Papà with a male heir.

The door to the room opened, and my maid of honor, Sera, who was Luca’s niece, stepped in. Most of my relatives weren’t able to make the trip to Chicago for the impromptu wedding. I worried about Mamma’s health with how fast she had to organize one, but my marriage to Luca was supposed to prop up Papà’s organization while it recovered from my cousin’s attempted coup.

When Sera saw my face, I had nowhere to hide it because Mamma had my chin in a death grip.

“She’s gone,” Sera said. “Luca had her escorted from the premises.”

Mamma paused in her makeup application as if she couldn’t believe what Sera said.

My jaw dropped open. “He did?” A tiny flutter of joy wrapped around my heart.

“Of course he did.” Sera fixed a stray hair from my face. “Luca was furious. He was so sure the reason you’re late for the cake-cutting is because you saw him with her. He was about to send a search party for you.”

“Well.” Mamma’s neutral expression was in contrast to the wide smile I couldn’t keep from my face. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, Natalya.”

Sera glared at my mother and made a face.

But I was used to Mamma’s habit of diminishing any joy I might have felt when it opposed her beliefs. Her bleak forecast into my married life had no effect on my elation that Luca had sent his ex-girlfriend home.

“There.” Mamma backed away from the mirror so I could see her handiwork. At least she waved her magic. I looked glamorous again, and my swollen eyes weren’t apparent unless someone stared closely.

The second we returned to the party, a hush fell over the ballroom, and I wanted to retreat. I wasn’t used to this much attention. It was a small wedding of maybe a hundred, but I didn’t know eighty percent of the people attending. Most of them were guests of the Morettis, and very few were ours.

My newly minted husband was talking to Papà when he saw me. And from across the room, he strode toward me with purpose, as though he knew I was about to slink away.

There was no man more beautiful than Luca Moretti. His face was like chiseled marble under the light of the ballroom, making the slight slant of his dark eyes more pronounced. Sharp angles shaped his strong jawline, made more distinct by the shadowed hollow at his cheek. I knew from the first time he kissed me, he was too sensual and sinful for heaven. He was Lucifer molded into a three-piece suit.

“Tesoro.” His low baritone warmed me all over. “Where have you been?” He took both my hands and pulled me into his arms. He whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry about Jessica.”

Without waiting for me to answer, he kissed me in a way that was less proprietary in public and certainly more scandalous than one would perform in front of my mother.

His tongue swept inside my mouth, and I was helpless to protest, but my battered pride welcomed the intimate gesture. To hell with what Mamma thought about appearances.

As expected, she made a disgruntled sound while Sera laughed.

“Save that for the wedding night,” our guests shouted. “We want cake.”

“Ready to get out of here?”

After suffering through smiling, eating cake, and dancing, I shot my husband a relieved smile. “Yes, please.”

“Then let’s go.” Luca helped me from my chair and linked our fingers. I could feel Mamma’s frown follow us all the way to the exit, but I ignored her. Apparently, she had less power over me when Luca was by my side. I also ignored the heckles that erupted around us. My husband told me he forbade any wedding pranks under threat of dismemberment. I, for one, was glad we didn’t have to go through that custom.

I was all small talk and smiles until we got into the elevator. In its confined space, my whole body turned rigid and my heart gained extra beats. Luca himself was silent. The numbers changed floors more quickly than I’d like. Despite the kisses and heavy petting during our courtship, Luca never went further, and I wasn’t sure if he would find my inexperience lacking. His mistress hadn’t simply been a woman who was beautiful and of no consequence. She was an heiress and a constant subject in Chicago society pages, a bombshell frequently on the arm of powerful and dangerous men.

Men like Luca.

It was rumored her choice of men was to spite her family.

“You okay?” Luca’s voice was a rumble of concern.

I wet my dry lips, afraid they would crack with the slightest smile. “I guess I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” He paused. “You’re…not.” He cleared his throat. “You’re not a virgin, right? I thought you told me this already.”

I laughed and tried not to wince at the high pitch. “I’m not. Don’t worry…”

“Good.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t looking for one,” I mumbled, staring straight ahead.

“It hurts the first time, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.” His voice softened and called my attention. His mouth tilted at the corners in a reassuring smile, which calmed the roiling of butterfly wings in my stomach.

“Yes, well. I’m just not very…experienced.”

“Believe me, baby, you’ll have experience in no time.” His drawl washed away the apprehension, only to be replaced by heat that suffused my cheeks and caused a twitching between my thighs.

The elevator doors slid open, and we both stepped out. I concentrated on the swish of the voluminous silk on our way to the room. My nose twitched at the pine air freshener, momentarily dispelling the seductive scent of my husband’s woodsy cologne.

When we arrived at the door, Luca stilled. I kept my eyes down and felt his boring a hole through my head. Before I could force myself to meet his gaze, he swiped the keycard and let us into the room.

“Go ahead and freshen up.” His tone was brusque.

In the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror, not knowing what to do. Maybe take off the wedding dress. I could only manage the top buttons, and I wasn’t sure if my flaming cheeks were from the effort of unbuttoning the dress or the knowledge that I needed to ask my husband for help. “Luca.”

The pocket door opened, and he appeared in the mirror. I wondered why there was even a door because there was a see-through glass wall along the bathtub that overlooked the bedroom.

He leaned a shoulder against the frame and looked damned fine doing it too. “Need help with your dress?”

“I can’t undo the rest of the buttons.”

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive and didn’t ask if you needed help.”

“It’s okay.”

He came forward and his breath fanned my nape. While he made a deliberate task of undressing me, his fingers brushed bare skin. “From the looks of this, I think it’s the job of the groom to remove the dress for you.”

My lungs forgot how to process oxygen and suppressed my speech. The buttons slowly came undone, and the dress fell into a heap on the tiles.

“Oh.” I sidestepped out of the pile and turned to face him, but my eyes fixated on the discarded gown. By this time, I was certain my cheeks had taken on the shade of fire-engine red. Intimately aware that this was the first time Luca had seen me in sexy lingerie, delayed modesty had me rethinking my choices of lace ivory bustier with matching satin garters and opaque sheer white stockings. When he hadn’t said anything and remained motionless, my modesty turned into mortification. What if he was conservative? Sera assured me her uncle was progressive. She even helped me at the lingerie boutique. I tried to distract myself and bent over to pick up the dress, fighting the urge to cover my cleavage in one last attempt at seduction.

“Leave it,” he said hoarsely.

“But it’s a Vera—”

“I said leave it.”

“But—” I glanced up and gasped. I was staring at his erection.

“See what you do to me, Natalya? You’re so pretty looking up from down there, baby.”

My eyes darted back to the bulge behind his trousers. “Uh…do you want me to—”

Luca hauled me to my feet and caged me against the counter, pressing his hardness against my belly.

“Hell no,” he muttered. “Our first time won’t be you sucking my cock.”