Chapter-1 First Night

                                                              

Gianna

2 years later

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, not quite recognizing the woman who stared back. My eyes felt tired, and my entire face showed telltale signs of exhaustion. My jaw ached from smiling so much throughout the day. Just a few hours ago, I married Nicholas Baldocchi. The wedding was like a fairytale, or so everyone thought. 

My brothers, Leonardo and Xavier, hired the best wedding planners in the country, shelling out millions of dollars to make sure today was perfect. A vineyard in Tuscany, a Monique Lhuillier dress that fit like it was stitched from starlight, and a guest list boasting Italy’s most powerful. But for all its perfection, this marriage was anything but. 

The reality of our marriage crashes over me like a wrecking ball every time it crosses my mind. My only solace lies in remembering how crucial this union was for both our families. And it was done anyway; Nico and I were married regardless. There were other, more important things to worry about at the moment. 

Like our wedding night tonight. 

The bedroom door opened right then, and my heart threatened to plummet out of my mouth as he walked inside, his dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror. 

Holy fucking hell. 

Nico Baldocchi, the heir to the Baldocchi throne, was gorgeous in the darkest way possible. He was so intense that I sometimes forgot how to breathe when I was near him. He’s the embodiment of the alpha male straight out of those best-selling, steamy novels women couldn’t stop raving about. 

Every inch of him exuded power and authority, and in the same breath, made him seem cold and deadly. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiralling, unbidden, into the kind of dreams I’d had about him. Dreams where he touched me, and whispered things in my ear in that low, commanding voice of his. 

Now, he was here. Looking at me like he would love to devour me. 

He had already discarded his tuxedo jacket and tie somewhere, and the top three buttons of his crisp white shirt were open, giving me a sinful peek at his tattoos. His slightly tousled dark hair fell across his forehead, and as he rolled up his sleeves, the veins on his hands and forearms stood out against the ink that seemed to cover every inch of him. He looked a bit drunk and agitated, but somehow, it only made him seem more dangerous and impossibly sexier.

Nico Baldocchi was going to be the death of me. Literally.

I turned around as he finally reached me, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. Despite my decent height of 5’7, he still loomed over me. His eyes searched my face, and as always, I could never tell what was going through his mind. But one thing was painfully clear: I wanted those full lips on mine. Desperately.

Our first kiss had been today, at the wedding, despite being engaged for two long years. It had barely lasted a second, but even in that fleeting moment, one thing was certain—Nico Baldocchi knew exactly what he was doing. Just with a kiss. 

“This is a beautiful dress,” his voice, so deliciously deep and heavy, sent chills down my spine.“And you look gorgeous too.”

“Th-thank you,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. Nico leaned closer, his proximity making my pulse race. He wasn’t even touching me, and I was already a hot mess.

“Thank you for not walking out on me, regardless of...everything,” he said, his voice a tad softer. The way he gazed into my eyes was enough to unravel me.

“It was necessary for both our families,” I replied, wishing I had the strength to look away. But I didn’t. Especially when all I wanted was for him to close the distance between us.

“Hmm.” His eyes flickered to my lips for the briefest moment before he reached out, brushing a stray tendril of hair from my cheek. His fingers barely touched my skin, yet the electricity from that simple gesture made my breath hitch.

“You are my wife now, Gianna,” he continued, his alcohol-laced breath fanning my face. “Everything I have is now yours, including my body. It’s all yours if you want it.”

His body—but not his heart. I would never have his heart.

His words felt like a tight slap, and the bitter pain that erupted in my chest finally gave me the strength to avert my gaze. But not for long. He clasped his fingers gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet his.

My heart was beating so fast it hurt.

And then, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss was fire and fury, consuming everything in its path. His body pressed me against the mirror, trapping me in a cocoon of heat and strength. His hand found my waist, the warmth of his palm burning through the delicate fabric of my dress. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on my hip, sending tremors up my spine.

When his other hand slid up, tangling in my hair, he angled my head, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding and relentless, making me gasp and whimper against him. The cool surface of the mirror bit into my back, but the contrast only made his heat more intoxicating. His lips left mine suddenly, but before I could protest, they were on my jaw, trailing down the curve of my neck. A shiver coursed through me as he reached the bare skin of my shoulder.

“Nico...” His name was a broken plea, barely audible as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, his teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothed the spot. His breath was hot against my skin as he moved lower, lingering on my collarbone. I fought it hard, but couldn’t help it as a moan escaped my lips. 

My hands clutched at his shirt, desperate for something to anchor me as his lips returned to mine. This time, the kiss was slower but no less intense. His fingers tightened on my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

“Gianna...” he whispered against my lips, his voice rough, almost tortured. “Tell me what you want. The choice is yours.” 

I blinked at him through the haze. Every part of me wanted to be taken to bed and finally let my fantasies come true. All those nights I have spent touching myself and imagining it to be his touch could now become true. I haven’t allowed any man to touch me since I got engaged to Nico two years ago, and, on top of that, he just lit my body on fire with that kiss. I wanted him inside me, to feel his fullness consuming me, his strong, powerful body pressed into mine. 

But...

I wanted all of him and not just his body. I wanted him to touch me, not out of duty or obligation but rather out of true desire. And love. 

“Tell me...” he whispered, his eyes flitting to my lips very again. There was desire in those dark orbs. That was not a lie. But it was not a desire born out of love. It was just lust, and he was drunk too. 

“I want you...” I breathed. 

“But...?” he inquired. “I know there is a but…” 

“But I want you to truly want me, Nico. Not out of duty or obligation but with your heart...” I whispered. 

“Gianna…” he began, but I placed my finger on his lips and shook my head. 

“Nico...I love you,” I said, gazing into his eyes. There, I said that out loud. And Nico's expression, an epitome of panic and shock, was exactly how I had imagined it to be. Maybe even worse. 

“And I know you don’t love me...” I continued regardless. "But that’s okay. That is your truth, and this is mine. And even though I know everything you have is now mine, including your body...it’s not the only thing I want...” 

A lump formed in my throat as I added silently, “I want...more.” 

Nico blinked, and for a fleeting moment, guilt and helplessness flickered in his dark eyes. But just as quickly, he buried it beneath that cold, detached gaze he wore so well. And I hated myself for doing this to myself as he slowly moved back and lowered his gaze. 

“I am sorry...” he whispered. “I cannot give you what you want, Gianna. I am not...capable of that.” I sucked in a deep breath, probing myself to hold back the tears a little bit longer because I wasn’t going to embarrass myself anymore. I had literally bared my heart out, only for him to walk all over it. 

What was I even expecting, though?

“I understand,” was all I could say. 

“You can stay here...I will take the couch in the living room,” he said. “We leave for home tomorrow. My jet is on standby, and we leave by ten. I have a meeting to attend later on.” 

“I will be ready,” I croaked. 

He looked up at me, just for a second, before turning on his heels and heading for the door. My lips trembled as I fought the tears, waiting for him to walk out and close the door, so I could let it all out. And just when he reached the door, Nico paused for a moment and slightly turned his head. 

“Good night, Gianna,” he mumbled. “And...welcome to my life.” 

The doors closed behind him, and right at that moment, my legs buckled, and I stumbled down on the rug, tears falling freely down my face.