Gairah Istri Pemberontak

Aurora POV

I'm about to marry a ruthless mafia boss, but now I wake up naked in an unfamiliar bed.

My head pounds, a dull, persistent ache that reminds me of last night’s reckless decisions.

Then I hear it—the steady rush of water from the en-suite bathroom.

Panic grips me. My stomach twists into a tight knot as flashes of last night flicker through my mind. The bar. The laughter.

The hypnotic pull of a stranger’s gaze. And then—his hands on my skin, firm, confident. His lips, claiming me without hesitation. The way I melted under his touch.

Oh, God.

I didn't go home last night.

A sharp wave of nausea rolls through me.

If my father finds out I lost my virginity before marriage, I have no doubt he will beat me senseless—maybe even kill me.

Actually, I’ll be lucky if he kills me. That would be a blessing in disguise since the alternative is my “fiance” finding out.

To other women, a one-night stand might be a fleeting mistake, a secret buried in the depths of forgetfulness. But in the mafia world, a woman's chastity is a symbol of honor, a commodity to be traded and controlled.

Especially when my father has decided for me to marry the Capo dei Capi of another familia—a man old enough to be my father. I’ve never seen him in person, however, I’ve heard stories. Plenty of them talk about him and his son being ruthless and none of them talk about him being anywhere close to a silver fox.

I was never given a choice in my future. My father made sure of that. Since I was a child, he shaped me into the perfect bride, ensuring my obedience, my silence, my submission.

Of course, I hate it. I hate all of it.

But I’ve learned that in this world, survival is more important than resistance.

Despite how lousy I feel, I force my body to slip out of bed as quietly as possible. When I grab my phone from the nightstand, my trembling hands almost drop it.

Gianna: Where are you? Let me know when you wake up. I'll come pick you up.

I exhale sharply and type back quickly.

Me: Sending you my location now. Hurry.

Her reply is almost instant.

Gianna:👌 Nice place.

I huff out a laugh.

Even though Gianna is the daughter of my father’s consigliere and the one who technically got me into this mess by using her insane persuasion skills against me to go out drinking with her last night, she’s too charming to be mad at.

Before I move next, the bathroom door swings open with a sharp click.

Through the lingering steam, a figure steps out—tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly attractive.

My breath catches in my throat.

He’s even more striking in the daylight. Dark, damp hair falls messily over his forehead, droplets of water sliding down sculpted abs and disappearing beneath the towel slung low around his hips.

But it’s his eyes that hold me captive—piercing, dark, and too knowing.

He looks me over slowly, a hand pressed to his hip where the knot of his towel is tucked. “Leaving already?”

“Or,” he speaks again, his steps languid as he approaches me. “Are you putting on that dress so I can peel it off of you again?”

My entire body flushes. Flashes of last night rapid-fire through my head. His hands grazing my body, his lips moving along my most intimate parts, the way his tongue speared into my mouth in time with his thrusts.

“Um,” is all I can muster.

A smirk plays on his lips. “Um? That’s all you have to say?”

I gasp when his hand cups my face, pulling me closer using it until I’m practically pressed flush against him. His body is warm from the shower, practically radiating heat.

“Did I fuck you that good that you can’t speak?” His words are vulgar but the way he says them sounds like sweet poetry.

He runs a thumb along my bottom lip to trace it, moving it back and forth until I’m practically panting from the contact. My phone vibrates in my hand, no doubt from Gianna texting me that she’s about to arrive.

But how can I leave now when this man is standing in front of me, practically promising me an incredible round two?

Suddenly, the fact that I’m engaged quickly enters my mind.

Damn it.

I really need to get home before my father finds out and locks me up in one of the interrogation rooms in our family estate’s basement.

“I-I,” Clearing my throat, I pull in a quick breath. “I have some business I have to attend to. Sorry, but I need to go.”

Something flashes in his eyes—disappointment? Upset? Anger?—I can’t tell. But the way his lips thin tells me he isn’t at all happy with me refusing him.

“I see.”

Just as I think he’s about to drop his hand and let me go, his fingers suddenly tighten on my face, tilting it up. His nose grazes along my jawline, moving down to the spot right below my ear. He nips at it with his teeth, causing me to squirm.

“Leave your number then,” he says.

“I-I can’t.”

“You will.” His words are softly spoken, an edge to them that has the spot between my legs instantly heating.

Oh god.

My thoughts are a mess. It’s getting hard to focus on anything else outside of the way he’s touching me. Before, I had so many questions as to how I allowed myself to stumble in bed with a random man. Now everything is becoming glaringly obvious how that happened.

“I’m getting married.” I blurt out.

He chuckles. “So? You didn’t seem to care last night about being loyal to this fiance of yours.”

My face flushes again. Though this time out of embarrassment. “I was drunk. I didn’t know any better.”

“Hm.”

I’m able to breathe again when he finally pulls back. My phone buzzes again, forcing me to slip by him before he can pull me in and actually lure me back into that bed like he clearly wants to—like I clearly want him to.

“Perhaps I should come to take you away on your wedding,” he says, stopping me dead in my tracks again. “Since it seems you aren’t so happy being with this fiance.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to cause trouble for him. He’s a dangerous man.”

He merely chuckles at me again. “Oh? Dangerous, huh.”

I hate the way it sounds like he’s mocking me. I’m not making things up just for the fun of it to avoid falling into bed with him again but according to his playful tone, that’s exactly what he thinks is happening.

“Yeah, you ever heard of Leonardo Guerrero? That’s my fiance.”

His eyes flash just for a beat, but then a smirk slowly tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Leonardo Guerrero, huh?”

He looks… surprised. But why does his surprise seem strange?

Few people in New York don’t know who Leonardo Guerrero is. I expected shock. But there’s something unreadable in his expression that I can’t pinpoint.

However, I don’t have time to keep playing around with him. Not when my father will be calling for me to come down any minute for breakfast. If he finds out I’m not in my room, he’s going to flip shit.

I grab my shoes on the way to the door, quickly slipping them on right before my hand finds the handle.

“I’ll see you at the wedding.” Is the last thing I hear before wretching the door open and pulling it shut behind me.