Scorned Vows: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Scorned Fate)

I had been to Paris many times, but with Luca, he had opened my eyes to experience the city of love through a different lens. The food was tastier, browsing through the art of the masters in the museums was more interesting, and the walk along the Seine was more romantic. He also fulfilled his promise that next time, the sex would be better, and it was. He made love to me over and over, worshiping my body each time. Still, I felt his restraint. He was too gentle for all the promise in his eyes and the power behind that body that sometimes I urged him to take me harder.

His response was always, “Not yet.”

It had been a week since our wedding.

Luca owned the apartment duplex that was part of a Haussmann building at the 8th Arrondissement. The interior was retro modern. The walls were white, and the trimmings were darkish brown. Deep orange and blue furniture provided a splash of color. Hollywood icons of the golden age were depicted in black-and-white photographs juxtaposed with colorful images of pop art. Luca mentioned he bought the property from a successful film producer of ‘50s cinema, and since it was decorated by a world-renowned interior designer, he left it as it was.

“But you’re my wife now,” he told me. “You have free reign to do what you want with the place.” Then he added with a wink, “Just don’t bankrupt me.”

On our flight to Paris, he’d given me a black credit card and another one that would access our joint bank account. Seeing my name on the card, “Natalya Moretti,” gave me a sense of a new life. A new life where some things would never change. The building had top-notch security, and his men were always in the background. A reminder that we were not the typical newlyweds and Luca was the don of the Chicago mob.

Mid-January in Paris was chilly, almost freezing. And though I basked in the coziness of renowned dining establishments, I was feeling wifely and suggested eating in tonight.

I was making bouillabaisse.

Luca and I went shopping for ingredients this morning at Rue Montmartre and I couldn’t have enjoyed shopping for ingredients more, like haggling with my basic French over the price of seafood at a poissonnerie. Fortunately, Luca was fluent, but he didn’t step in unless he had to. The last time I’d been in Paris, I was with Mamma to attend a fashion show. We stayed at hotels. I couldn’t care less about clothes or fashion or the high society Mamma surrounded herself with. I went along because it was an armor I put up to hide my true interest.

I went to NYU to get an accounting degree because, according to Mamma, if I wanted to go to college instead of finishing school where they could prepare me to be a don’s wife, that would be more useful. As if all I aspired to in life was to mind the household budget and raise children. I didn’t need an accounting degree for that.

Since we’d arrived in Paris, Luca probably was away from my side for a total of five times. Tonight, he went to meet a business partner and said he would be gone for an hour or two. It was a reminder that even though we were married, he was still the head of an organization with dealings he kept from his wife. He was allowed to keep his secrets because I had my own.

To everyone, including my family, I was a meek and obedient daughter who was now the new bride of the Chicago don. The latter I aspired to be, the former was a lie. My one act of rebellion in my teens sent my mother to the hospital with a heart attack that nearly killed her. Up to this day, she loved to remind me of my role in her almost demise. It took years for me to understand it wasn’t my fault, but I had to build an alter ego to keep the peace.

Luca was my knight in shining armor in more ways than one.

When he saved me from the clutches of a deranged Frankie Rossi, he was like an avenging angel, barging into the room, shooting at thugs in the hallway before he barricaded us until help arrived.

I couldn’t keep my secrets forever and I hope once I’d established my life with Luca, I could build another layer to protect myself from the people after me. Frankie Rossi didn’t hold me captive simply because I was Vincenzo Conte’s beloved daughter. It was because he discovered I was the hacker who disrupted their human trafficking operations with the Russians. No one else knew except him and my asshole cousin Santino. They were both dead. I was safe. For now.

I checked the time on my watch. Luca wouldn’t be home for another hour. I walked to our bedroom and hauled out my carry-on. I unzipped the bag and extracted my beloved laptop. A hacker had many devices, but this was my main one and the only one I hadn’t destroyed when I realized I’d been compromised. I booted it up and logged on.

I received a message from my contact simply known as Doriana.

“That was a wonderful dinner, baby,” Luca said into my ear. As was our routine after dinner, he stood behind me with his arms wrapped around me while we stood on the tiny balcony overlooking the Paris landscape. I wished we could stay here forever.

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope I won’t suck as a wife.”

He turned me around and tipped up my chin. “You’re perfect, capisce? You’re more than I could ever hope for. I hope I make you happy?”

I smiled. “Don’t I look happy?”

“Maybe you’re being influenced by your surroundings.” His dark eyes sobered, and he sighed. “When we’re back in the States, I’m going to be a very busy man.”

I put my hands on his chest. “And you have me to make it easier.”

“You’re so young…” He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I feel guilty for plucking you out of college and denying you all the fun you deserve.”

A feeling of unease crept into my voice. “You said I could continue my degree.”

“I know what I said, but with everything that’s going on, you might have to stay at my mansion near LaSalle.”

“And you’ll be in Chicago?”

“That’s where I need to be.”

“But I want to be there with you.”

His face hardened briefly before he dropped his arms from around me and headed inside.

“Luca?” I followed him, where he poured us more wine. He handed me a glass. I accepted without thinking and took a sip.

“I want you with me as much as possible, baby.”

“Then no more nonsense about sending me to the mansion.” I lowered my wine and stepped into him. Luca’s eyes darkened. He usually instigated our sexual encounters, but I’d gained enough confidence to seduce him when I wanted sex.

“Because.” My fingers lowered to his buckle, slowly working his belt free. I palmed his cock. He hardened rapidly. “Who else is going to do this to you?” I kept my eyes on him. His face was a blank mask, but I knew he did this when he was fighting for control. And it thrilled me to make him lose it. I lowered the zipper and gripped the length of his erection behind his boxer briefs. “Oh, you’re so hard.”

“And you’re my little temptress,” he hissed. “What are you going to do to convince me?”

I smirked and dropped to my knees.

I was looking up at him, and one of his hands dug into my hair, while the other brought his wine to his lips like I was of no consequence, a woman used to service him. Was it so wrong that I found it so stimulating to feel debased like that?

Freeing his erection, I swallowed the tip and wrapped a hand at the base. Luca was long and girthy. His cock was veined and beautiful like the rest of the man. His fingers tightened in my hair and my scalp stung. I paused, not taking all of him. I wanted him to force me. I withdrew and licked around the head.

“You have to do better than that, pretty girl.” He shoved my head down, and the tip hit the back of my throat. My gag reflex was strong. My eyes watered and I grew wet as I let him use me. I kept up with him, trying to choke me on his cock. This was the side of Luca that lurked beneath the surface.

He yanked me away from his cock and forced me to look at him. “Are you sure you’re ready for harder, baby?”

“Show me.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and a slight anxiety dropped in my stomach. He forced me back on his cock. I was growing so wet with his domination, I couldn’t believe I enjoyed getting used like this. He was as hard as an iron pike. Suddenly, I was off his cock, and he hauled me from the floor, dragging me to the living room where he pulled me down to the floor in front of the fireplace.

“Don’t be gentle, please,” I begged. “Do me hard.”

His mouth curved into a snarl. “I believe you’re ready, wife.”

I was on my back, my panties were gone, and he tossed my legs over his shoulders and put his mouth on me. He devoured me with a savagery, making it hard to catch my breath. I didn’t last long. I was so aroused from sucking him, and I climaxed. But Luca wasn’t done. After wringing me out and making my voice hoarse from screaming, he shoved my knees up to my ears and entered me. He pounded into me as if he hated me.

“Is this hard enough for you?” he growled.

“Yes. Yes,” I cried.

“You like it when I treat you like a slut?”

The word burned my ears, and I stared dazedly up at him. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out.” He continued thrusting away, and I…loved it.

And I loved it more when he stared into my eyes and rasped, “Look at you,”—he bottomed out at the hilt—“taking all of me like a good girl.”

When he grunted his release, he fell on top of me, crushing my breath.

He was breathing hard. We said nothing for a few moments.

Finally, he raised his head and searched my face. “You okay?”

The stoic facade was gone, and the familiar warmth of my loving husband was back.

“I think I am.” I carefully flexed my legs, but my limbs were like Jell-O.

He was still staring at me, studying my face, when he pushed off me and tucked himself back in. That was when I realized he was still fully dressed. I found that strangely gratifying, too, that I could make him lose control where he couldn’t be bothered to take off his clothes.

He gave me a hand up, but then his phone buzzed on the counter and he walked toward it.

I was left with cum trickling down my legs. If this was the slut treatment, I wasn’t too keen on it, like I was just another fuck and not a recipient of cuddling or a warm bath. Conflicted, I marched past Luca and he watched me pass him like he didn’t just fuck my brains out.

Fine, I was rolling with the slut treatment. I should stop overanalyzing everything my husband did or I would lose my mind. Entering the bathroom, I shifted my thoughts to the faux fur rug in front of the fireplace, making a note to throw it in the washer. Maybe I should remove it all together from there except it provided a nice buffer against the hardwood floor.

Depending how often we came to Paris and how often Luca decided to fuck me blind in front of that fireplace, we might have to change the flooring. I winced. I’d hate to rip out the hardwood floor.

Smiling briefly at my wifely duties when it came to interior design, I stepped into the shower. I was rinsing the shampoo from my hair when I heard something.

“Luca, is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” his amused voice asked.

Clearing the suds from my eyes, I saw a blurry image of him through the glass of the shower. “Well, just making sure.”

“No one will get past the first-floor security.”

“That’s good to know.” I rinsed the soap from between my legs. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, just Carmine wanting to know when we could meet.”

My heart squeezed. “I’m so thankful for you helping him out like this.”

“It’s no problem. I told Vincenzo, I’d do it.”

My poor papà. He didn’t have a son to take over, but at least his daughter married someone who could help him train his successor. My crazy cousin Santino knew exactly who to target when he wanted to take down Papà and wiped out most of his inner circle. To maintain control of the Galluzo, Papà needed the reputation of someone like my husband. I could feel my whole body blushing. Even through the fogged-up glass, I could feel his gaze piercing into me. That he could switch this on and off intrigued me. The wildcard, the maverick. These were monikers attached to Luca Moretti.

I turned away from the glass enclosure as if I wanted to hide the wide grin that broke across my face. My husband, I thought smugly. Not only was he super alpha like the way I loved my romance heroes, he fucked a lot like them too.

“You’re going to turn into a prune, tesoro,” he drawled.

“You’re still here?” I teased.

“I love to see my wife…getting wet.”

And just like that, my poor pussy, which had been pounded to oblivion, pulsed with a different heat that had nothing to do with the shower. Would I ever get enough of him? “I love your dirty mouth, caro.”

“Part of the package.”

I peered at him through the misted glass. He had crossed his ankles and arms, leaning a hip languidly on the counter. He’d taken off his shoes and was barefoot.

“I can’t wait to sample the rest of the package,” I said with all the sultriness of a bad porn star. I had to stifle a laugh.

“Are you seducing me, wife?”

Turning off the shower, I squeezed my hair. I needed to touch up my brown roots soon. First order of business when we returned to Chicago.

The shower door opened, and I was engulfed in a towel. Now this was more my speed. I loved Luca’s attentiveness.

“I’ll get your clothes wet,” I breathed against his mouth.

His intense gaze made it difficult to say anything else, and it wasn’t because he locked me tightly with his arms.

“I don’t care.” His eyes fell on my toiletry bag. He wrapped the towel around me and picked up my birth control pills. “You’re still taking these?”

“Yes. I mean, I wasn’t sure…” When Luca had been courting me, we did mention children when it was time. I remembered telling him I wanted to finish college first.

“I want a child,” he clipped. “A son.”

“Uhm…”

“Right now,” he continued. Walking over to the toilet, he started emptying the pills.

“Luca!” I screeched. “What are you…” Those were all the words I could manage as he flushed the pills and chucked the container into the trash, then he whirled on me, determination in his gaze.

Closing the short distance, his hand shot out and yanked me toward him. “I want a son.” The carnal heat in his eyes ravaged me.

“I don’t know if—”

“No if, Natalya—” Roughly, he spun me around, bent me over the bathroom counter, kicking my legs apart.

“You can go again?”

I heard his derisive chuckle followed by his zipper, then he lowered his mouth to my ear and said, “I’m not fulfilling my duty in this if I can’t perform, no?”

Before I could digest his words, he shoved inside me so hard, we both groaned. I was wet as hell, and because he had just fucked me, he slid in easily. He grabbed my hips and pounded into me. I tried to grab at the corners of the counter, but my hands kept slipping, not able to keep up with his forcefulness. I couldn’t even understand what this was. He fucked like I was a receptacle to slake his lust. But that was my mind trying to frame this and I should just revel in his possession. I gave way to the instinct that was as old as time. The instinct to mate. Soon, I was rearing my ass into his hips as he drilled into me harder. Our sounds bounced off the tiles. His grunts, the slapping of flesh, my moans.

His fingers came around us to rub my clit, and I flew.

I came, almost blacking out in its intensity. He went over the edge, his cock pulsing deep inside me, shooting cum.

My husband’s domination of me was complete. Enslaved to his lust.