Brutal Husband (Brutal Hearts #3)

Chapter 3

3

Nero

T wo years earlier

The waitress sets a Negroni down in front of me, and I stare at it with antipathy, wondering how much time I’m going to have to waste on Rieta Bianchi tonight. One drink? Two? There’s not much point in us having a lingering conversation when our impending marriage is practically set in stone. I’ve had my orders, and I understand what I have to do tonight. I just want this over as soon as possible.

So where’s my goddamn bride? I glance at the heavy gold watch on my wrist and see that she’s seven minutes late. Seven . Who the fuck does she think she is to keep me waiting?

I’m glaring out the plate glass window onto the street when a sports car pulls up. A young woman in a clinging pale satin dress gets out. At first glance, it looks like an innocent, good girl dress, only it clings to her hips and tits and reveals so much of her legs that she’d barely need to wriggle it up for me to take a look at her panties.

Her dark, reddish hair is piled up on her head, bombshell style, and she pauses for a moment in front of the bar to use the glass as a mirror. She runs her thumb under her full lower lip to correct an invisible mistake with her red lipstick. I’m too busy staring at her lush mouth to notice any mistakes. It’s dark inside the bar, and she doesn’t notice me drinking in the sight of her just inches away.

Holy shit. Rieta Bianchi is a goddamn knockout.

I’m staring at her open-mouthed when she finally breezes through the door on a wave of scent that reminds me of tropical flowers at midnight. She glances around the bar with a slight frown between her brows. Then she spots me, and her expression melts into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.

I’m not the only man who’s noticed her. Three other men are staring at my potential fiancée like they’re wondering what she tastes like.

I get to my feet and walk toward her, hands in pockets.

“Hi, Nero?” She tucks her hair nervously behind her ear. Either Rieta Bianchi has no idea just how sexy she is, or she cares what I think of her. Really cares. “I’m Rieta. Lovely to meet you.”

She’s so sweet and trusting. For a moment, I feel a sprinkle of remorse for what she’s getting into. The poor girl has no idea.

I gaze at her for a full minute and then deadpan, “You’re late.”

Rieta’s smile fades. “There was traffic,” she says with a shrug and tries to step past me.

I move in front of her. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, sitting down?”

“I haven’t invited you to sit down.”

Rieta flushes red. Fuck, that’s sexy. I wonder how long I can drag out her embarrassment. All the way to the bedroom?

“I thought this was a date,” she says.

I laugh, genuinely amused. “A date? You think this is a date?”

Annoyance flashes across her face. “You know what? Stick your drink up your ass, Nero Lombardi.” She turns to leave.

I grasp her hand and pull her back to me. “It’s not a date because the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted you to be my wife.”

Rieta slowly pulls her hand out of mine. “Aren’t you smooth? I’m yet to be convinced that I want you to be my husband. May I sit down?” she asks with exaggerated politeness.

I wait, one eyebrow raised.

She adds, “Please.”

“How pretty you look saying please.”

Rieta narrows her eyes, but I have the feeling that she’s enjoying my praise. Her hips have a sassy sway to them as she moves past me and sits down. She orders a Coke.

“You can have a cocktail if you want,” I tell her.

“I’m nineteen.”

That doesn’t matter because this is my bar, but I let it go.

When her drink arrives, she toys with the straw, watching me. “I was surprised when you wanted to get to know me. I’ve heard you’re not a…” She searches for a polite way to phrase it. “Not a people person. I wondered if the first time I would see you would be at the altar.”

“I don’t like groups of people. Especially ones that include potential mothers-in-law.”

A rueful smile touches her lips. “Mom can be a handful. She wants everything to be perfect, and of course perfect means exactly the way she wants it to be. I don’t blame you for staying away from her.”

“Do you think I’m afraid of your mother?”

Rieta’s smile widens. “No, I don’t. So, tell me what you do, Mr. Nero Lombardi.” There’s a hint of flirtatiousness in her tone.

“I thought you knew.”

She shrugs. “I’ve been told vague things by other people. I’d like my potential future husband to tell me what he does himself.”

“I’m a businessman. I own a company called Lombardi Enterprises. Imports and exports. Nightclubs.” That’s the polite answer. What I really do is a lot bloodier and more illegal. If Rieta knows that “businessman” is code for something else, then she doesn’t show it. As a good little daughter of a mafia family, she’s probably been well trained not to ask questions.

“Why do you want a wife?”

“Every man wants a wife.”

“But why now, and why me?”

I don’t want to talk about that. “My turn to ask the questions. What can I expect from you as a wife?”

She glances down at herself and says with a shrug, “This, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it.”

Her mother must be pushing her into this marriage. “Are you spoiled?”

Her frown returns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“It’s an insulting question.”

I pluck the drink out of her hand and pull her to her feet. I hold her hand tightly as we leave the bar by a staff door. Rieta doesn’t start to resist me until we’re halfway up some red-carpeted stairs, and by then, it’s too late. We enter a room with flocked wallpaper, and I close the door behind us and lock it.

Tendrils of hair have escaped their pins and are framing her shocked face. “What are you doing? Why are we here?”

I move closer and trap her against the wall, planting my hands on either side of her shoulders. “I think you are spoiled, Rieta Bianchi. I think you’ve always been given the best of everything and never been told no even once in your life. Men have always tripped over their feet to fall at yours, but I’m not going to do that. I think you’ll enjoy being told no by me. I think you’ll enjoy being told a lot of things by me.”

“Move. I’m leaving.”

I smile at her. “No.”

Her eyes narrow in irritation. “Will you let me go, please?”

She’s learning already. “I will never fall at your feet, but you’ll fall at mine, and you’ll love it down there, cara mia .”

“How arrogant you are. You wouldn’t dare talk like this in front of my family.”

I laugh. “Would you like me to be like this in front of your family? Slap your face in front of your mother and call you my pretty piece of cunt?”

Rieta’s face flames red. “Slap my face and…? Why would you do that?”

I groan softly and drag my lower lip through my teeth. “Fuck, baby, don’t turn red. You make me want to humiliate you even more.”

Her eyes open wide. “What?”

She heard me.

Rieta shifts her feet, and I can tell that she’s squeezing her thighs together. She’s turned on, and she has no idea why.

“If you keep wriggling around like that, I’ll have to do something about it.”

Rieta stares at me, panting softly. “Like what?”

I slant my head closer to hers like I’m about to kiss her. “Like fuck you.”

Her lips are tantalizingly close. I stay where I am for a moment before taking a step back. I haven’t touched her except to hold her hand, but she’s sweet as a kitten as I lead her out of the private room, back downstairs, and out the front door.

“This is all the time I have, cara mia ,” I lie. I want to leave her turned on and thinking about me.

I open the door of her red Lexus LC for her, but before she gets in, I turn her toward me and hold her jaw. There’s a fine line between holding someone’s face lovingly and gripping it like you’re going to spit in their mouth. I smile down at her, thinking about doing just that.

“You’re beautiful, Rieta. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“What makes you think I want to see you again?” she challenges me.

“Because the second you reach your bedroom, you’re going to slip your fingers into your panties and touch yourself while thinking about me slapping your face and calling you my pretty piece of cunt.”

Rieta’s eyes widen. “I will not.”

“After you’re done making yourself come, you’ll imagine yourself walking down the aisle toward me, dressed in white.”

Rieta glares along her perfect nose at me. “You’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

She’s begging for a kiss. As much as I want to taste those lips, she’ll have to see me again if she wants to know how that feels.

Still gazing into her eyes, I dip my hand into my jacket pocket while reaching for her left hand. Her thin fingers tremble in hesitation, but before she pulls out of my grip, I slide the diamond engagement ring onto her ring finger. I turn her hand this way and that, admiring how the rock sparkles on her finger.

It marks her as taken. Claimed. By me.

The ring looks…

I swallow hard.

It looks even better than I imagined.

I duck my head like I’m going to kiss her, but instead, I sink my teeth into her lower lip with a soft growl. It feels much better than a kiss. From the way she inhales sharply and trembles against me, she likes it as well.

It’s a promise. A promise to possess her very soon.

I let go and swipe her lips with my tongue. “Marry me?”

Rieta stares up at me with huge, hypnotized eyes. Her palms drift up my chest and twine around my neck, and she breathes, “You’re not the man I thought you were. You’re certainly not the man Mom described.”

“Say yes.”

Another hesitation, and then desire flashes through her eyes as she nods. My woman has a touch of daring, and I like that.

“Good girl. Are you going straight home?”

“Yes.” She seems slightly dazed as I help her into her car and watch her drive away.

I get into my Maserati and follow her. As I drive behind the red Lexus, I make a call.

Instead of saying hello, the person on the other end asks, “Well?”

“It’s done.”

“That was fast.”

“I’m very convincing,” I tell them and hang up.

There’s a lot I should be doing right now, but I’m not ready to let Rieta out of my sight. I can spare a few minutes to follow her home and watch her elegant legs as she gets out of her car and goes inside.

Only Rieta doesn’t go home. She drives aimlessly for a few minutes and then heads to the next suburb over, parking in front of an expensive apartment building. She presses the front door buzzer and goes inside.

My heart thumps angrily in my chest.

Who the fuck is she dropping in on when she told me she was going straight home? I scour the windows and glimpse a woman with similarly colored hair as Rieta’s. She opens a door inside an apartment and then hugs Rieta as she enters. A moment later, there are wine glasses in the woman’s hand, and the two of them disappear.

I turn the engine off and sit in the dark, my eyes trained on the window. Does Rieta have a sister? That woman looked like a sister, but I’m no less furious than if she were meeting a man. I don’t care that she’s not with a man. I’m angry about how easily the lie spilled over her red lips.

Are you going straight home? Yes.

I used to put up with a lot of shit in my life, but those days are done. I’m not an unreasonable man, but being lied to? That dangerously pisses me off.

I fucking hate liars.