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138. GIULIANNA
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2025-08-12 23:25:41
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His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim MATTEO
The first thing I feel is her warmth. Not the lazy heat of the sun, not the burn of a lit cigar, but her skin on skin, the slow rise and fall of her chest against mine, the delicate scent of last night still clinging between us. Giulianna sleeps curled into me like she belongs there, one leg hooked over mine, her face buried in my neck. My arm is wrapped around her waist so tightly that my fingers are pressed into the curve of her hip. I didn’t loosen my grip even in sleep. I couldn’t. I breathe her in, slow and deep. It’s dangerous how good she smells. That faint trace of her perfume mixed with something purely her soft, feminine, and maddening. I could live in this moment and never come up for air. Last night plays in my head in flashes. Her nails digging into my back. The way she said my name like a confession. The sound she made when I touched her just right. It’s enough to make my blood heat all over again. I press my lips to the crown of her head, my hand sliding down he
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 139. MATTEO
The second the suite door clicked shut, I turned the key and pocketed it. No interruptions. No one touching her but me. Giulianna stood in the center of the room, still in her wedding gown — the same gown that had been taunting me for hours. My hands ached from keeping them off her. The way the silk hugged her body, the way the light from the chandelier caught the shimmer in her veil, the faint rise and fall of her chest… She looked like sin wrapped in innocence. Mine. Only mine. “Come here,” I said, my voice low enough to make her freeze. She didn’t move. Not right away. She just stared at me with that mix of defiance and surrender that drove me insane. I took the steps for her. My fingers brushed over her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, down her throat until they found the rapid beat of her pulse. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me tonight.” Her lips parted. “Matteo…” The sound of my name on her tongue snapped something in me. I grabbed her waist, dragging her again
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 138. GIULIANNA
The chapel was silent.Not the kind of silence that felt empty—but the kind that held its breath, the kind that pressed against your skin and left a mark.Matteo still held my hands, his thumbs brushing slowly over my knuckles as if he was grounding me… or maybe himself. His words still echoed in my chest, heavy and warm, making it hard to breathe in a way that wasn’t entirely from nerves.“By the power vested in me…” the priest’s voice cut through the tension, but barely.Matteo’s eyes didn’t leave mine. Not once. Not when the priest spoke of unity, not when he spoke of faithfulness, not even when the room began to blur at the edges because of what I knew—what we both knew—was waiting for us after this.I felt the faintest hum beneath the layers of silk and lace. My knees almost buckled.The corner of Matteo’s mouth curved, subtle but knowing, his thumb pressing firmer into my hand. His control over me was so absolute in that moment it almost scared me.Almost.“You may now kiss the
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 137. GIULIANNA
The music started—soft, slow, the kind of melody that pulled at your heart and tangled your thoughts into a knot. My breath hitched, and I swallowed hard. The long white train of my gown stretched behind me like a river of silk, every step feeling impossibly heavy and impossibly light all at once. I was walking toward a future I hadn’t fully claimed yet. The doors opened wide, and a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned, and there I was—Giulianna Bianchi, the heir, the bride, every inch the perfect picture they wanted. But beneath all that perfection, my body was a secret battlefield. Because Matteo had insisted on one last thing before I walked out. A small, sleek vibrator tucked discreetly beneath my gown. Hidden against my skin. He’d smirked when he told me, voice low and teasing. “Walk for me, dolcezza. Show me how beautiful you are when you’re on fire—and no one else knows.” I’d nodded, cheeks burning, heart pounding in a way that wasn’t just nerves. With every step
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 136. GIULIANNA
The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft stripes across the floor. I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of my robe, trying to steady my nerves. The weight of what was coming pressed down on me like the heavy velvet drapes in the grand hall—thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore.Matteo was in the bathroom, his deep voice carrying faintly through the door as he barked something about shaving.I swallowed hard.“Giuli,” he called, stepping out with that messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look that somehow made me forget the mountain of stress I was carrying. His hair was still damp, and his eyes shone with that stubborn, unyielding fire.“Hey,” I managed, my voice softer than I wanted.He walked over and sat beside me on the bed, his hand finding mine like it was the only thing anchoring him too.“This is real,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.He squeezed my hand. “It’s always been real.”I wanted to believe him.But it wasn’
His Baby My Burden: The Mafia Rider's Claim 135. GIULIANNA
The conversation didn’t end in the grand hall. No, nothing ever ended there. The Bianchi family preferred their victories sealed behind closed doors, away from the watchful eyes of the servants and the echoing gold-lit ceilings. Uncle Carlo led us out with a curt gesture, like a general expecting his soldiers to follow. We moved through the long marble corridor, Sofia’s small steps pattering beside me, her fingers still knotted with mine. Matteo walked just behind, close enough that I could feel his presence, the faint brush of his arm against mine every few steps. They brought us to the study, a room thick with cigar smoke and the scent of old leather. The doors closed, locking us in with the weight of centuries of family power. Carlo sat behind my father’s old desk. Aunt Luciana perched in a chair by the fire, diamonds catching the flames. My cousins lingered by the bookshelves, pretending to browse titles but hanging on every word. “You’ll be married within the week,” Carlo be
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