Chapter 23 - Angela 

As the car drove us back home, I could only think about all the madness that had happened that night. All the dangers I had faced and how stupid I had been—being so reckless wasn’t part of my life. But rubbing myself naked against a man wasn’t really my style either, yet it had happened that night.

I glanced at the man beside me, who seemed focused on his phone, and felt my face burn with memories of what we had done, even as his fingers absentmindedly traced up and down my arm.

Marco was having an effect on me I hadn’t expected; all my actions around him went against everything I had been taught. I was acting like a completely different person.

I turned to the window, needing to focus on something other than my behavior around him, because that would lead my thoughts to my family, and I didn’t want to imagine what was happening to them—or what my father might be planning to do to me.

“We’re here,” I heard him whisper, and when I opened my eyes, Marco was carrying me in his arms. “Go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

His voice calmed me, and I rested my head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart soothe me. But the moment I felt something soft beneath me, I opened my eyes. This wasn’t my room.

I looked around, analyzing every detail while Marco disappeared through one of the doors, removing his clothes.

The room had a masculine vibe—lead-colored curtains matched the sheets, and even the furniture was all dark wood.

The floor-to-ceiling windows that led to the balcony were closed, yet the air was still fresh. There was a wall behind the bed and two doors in front of me that I couldn’t figure out. There was also a small dark leather sofa in front of a coffee table.

I sat there observing everything, still puzzled about why I was there. Why had he brought me here? His words came back to me: “I want you in my house, my room, and lying on my bed.” But he had also said he wanted to set the wedding date, and I had given him an answer for that.

“Are you sure you want me here? In your room and your bed?” I asked when he came out of where he had disappeared, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, answering my questions about what was behind those doors.

“And why wouldn’t I?” He walked casually to the other door and pushed it open, giving me a view of a huge closet where he disappeared inside.

I crawled to the edge of the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Melissa told me how sacred your room is to you,” I murmured, hoping he’d return. He didn’t take long; Marco was now wearing black underwear contrasting with his outfit and holding a shirt in his hands. “Is it true you’ve never brought a woman here?”

“Yes, it’s true,” he said, approaching without hesitation. “Now, arms up.”

I got on my knees and raised my arms as he asked, and my dress was quickly removed before he slid the white shirt over my body. Marco was big enough that the shirt reached mid-thigh, leaving little exposed. That could only mean he didn’t want to do anything else with me that night.

“I could sleep in just my panties,” I teased, wanting to understand why he dressed me for his bed.

“And then I wouldn’t be able to sleep. It’s already going to be a huge sacrifice not burying myself inside you,” his confession heated my body, and I didn’t know how that was possible after he had made me cum twice that night. “Don’t look at me like that, little angel. Or I’ll throw mafia rules aside and take your virginity here and now.”

I swallowed hard and sat back on my heels, still not ready for that step. Even though I had never dreamed of falling in love before being promised in marriage, I didn’t feel ready to surrender completely.

“Why have you never brought a woman here?”

“My room is my sanctuary, where I rest at night, my refuge in the middle of any storm,” he said, climbing onto the bed and making me recoil. “Where I can be myself, without needing a mask to hide my desires and thoughts.”

“And why was I chosen? Why now?”

Marco moved even closer, knees on the bed, and I backed up until I felt the headboard against my back.

“You are mine, and soon you’ll be completely mine.” His hand slid along my leg, up my thighs, making my breathing spike. “You’ll be the Camorra Devil at my side; we’ll have nothing to hide from each other. It will be us against the world.”

Marco spread my thighs and positioned himself between them. A warm shiver ran through my body, concentrating in my abdomen, and I grabbed his face, pressing our lips together anxiously for what was to come.

Our tongues intertwined in a sensual dance, but this time I didn’t try to tame him; I simply surrendered to his control, giving him the freedom to do as he pleased with me—I was at his mercy.

I traced the contours of his face, remembering the first day he brought me to that house. A smile touched my lips at the memory of the first time he carried me to the bathroom.

My fingers traced his forehead, finding the scar that ran from his eyebrow into his hair. But something changed—he quickly removed his hand from my thighs and placed it on my waist, turning us on the bed, lying us on our side.

My leg was still draped over his hip, but he had stopped moving his fingers, his gaze as hard as his clenched jaw, and the sexual tension around us was gone.

“How did this happen to you?” I asked softly, remembering exactly that it was this question that had made him flee the bathroom the other day.

“You’d better sleep.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand away, but I didn’t give up, wrapping my leg around him to stop him from fleeing again.

“There will be no secrets between us, that’s what you said.”

“Angel, you’re not ready to know everything about me. At least, not yet.” He turned his face, but I grabbed him tightly and leaned in closer, letting our noses nearly touch.

Marco had only shown me what he wanted, letting me know only the good parts, but if I was really going to marry him, I needed to know all his facets, even the most monstrous ones.

“Trust me enough to be in your sanctuary, then take off the mask and let me see the real you.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb, feeling his teeth grit with the effort he made to control himself at the memory of the scar. “Show me the real Marco.”