Chapter 20

Chapter 20

　　"What about the baby monitor?"

　　I froze. She was right. Tonight was the first time Sybil or one of the maids wasn't staying overnight. They had always taken the monitor during the night. Simona's cries had still woken me, and she'd only settled down when I'd consoled her. Returning to the crib, I grabbed the monitor from the sideboard. When I stepped back into the corridor and closed the door, I said, "How did you know?"

　　Amelia shrugged. "I read about baby monitors, and when I saw it sitting there, I thought we needed it." She bit her lip. "Have you never taken it with you before?"

　　I stared down at the small device. "No. Giya or Sybil kept it at night..." I trailed off then held the monitor out to Amelia. She took it with a small frown.

　　"It should pick up the smallest sound, but unless Simona starts crying, you don't need to get up."

　　Amelia only nodded, not saying anything when I could tell she wanted to. I was glad for her silence. I nodded down the corridor. "Let's go to bed. I need to get up early, and Simona will probably wake us a few times tonight."

　　I led Amelia toward the master bedroom, wondering how long she'd want to sleep in it before she moved to one of the guest bedrooms. I turned on the lights and motioned for Amelia to enter. She slipped past me into the vast room. She looked around curiously. Her three suitcases waited beside the door to the walk-in closet.

　　"I told Sybil that you'd probably want to put your clothes away yourself."

　　"Yes, thank you. That way I'll know where everything is," she said absent-mindedly as she walked toward the window, peering outside.

　　It was too dark to see much but the general outline of the gardens. She looked petite, and I had to resist the urge to walk up to her and touch her shoulders. Last night she had to accept my closeness, but I wouldn't force it on her again.

　　I cleared my throat, causing Amelia to turn. Her gaze fell on the king-sized dark-wood bed on the left. Her expression tightened ever so slightly.

　　"I'll get ready," I gritted out and headed for the en suite bathroom.

　　I wasn't even sure what had me on edge tonight. I had been wound tightly for almost a year now. It was getting harder and harder to suppress the flood of emotions. Only once I'd released my frustration, and it had felt good, so fucking good. It had led to this point, had ultimately cost my children their mother. Trying to stop this dangerous train of thought, I started brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. A bed I'd have to share with another woman who didn't want me.

　　Amelia still hid her resentment better than Giya ever did. Yet she couldn't feel anything but resentment considering she was forced to marry me. Her feelings toward sharing a bed with me again tonight had been clear as day. Trepidation. She needn't have worried. Despite the dark hunger for my young wife's lovely pussy, I was a man who could control himself. I abhorred the idea of sleeping with a woman again who didn't want me. The years with Giya had been bad enough. Even when she'd approached me for sex—which only happened when she had ulterior motives—she never wanted to sleep with me. She didn't even think of me when I fucked her.

　　A new wave of fury twisted my insides. I spit the toothpaste into the sink then washed my face and changed into my pajama bottoms. My anger didn't lessen as I stepped back into the bedroom. Amelia had changed into a silken nightgown with tiny sunflowers all over it. She stared at a picture of the white beach taken from my summer house on Long Beach Island on a beautiful spring day. A picture meant to call to the calm within me.

　　In vain. It was unreasonable to be furious over her choice of wardrobe, especially when she looked exceptionally pretty in her gown, but I was. "Didn't I tell you to get rid of those sunflower atrocities?"

　　Amelia jumped and whirled around. Her hair settled in smooth ringlets on her bare shoulders. Her eyes were wide—as blue as the sky in the photo above her head.

　　"Excuse me?"

　　More anger, which wasn't even directed at Amelia, still roared louder inside my chest since I'd seen Daniele on his mother's bed. Every night he went there, no matter how often I told him not to.

　　"I sent you new clothes. I expect you to wear them."

　　Amelia raised her chin. "While I understand your need for me to look like a lady in public, I can't see why I can't wear the clothes I love in private. Only because I'm your wife now doesn't mean I'm not still me. I won't become someone else only because you don't like who I am. You chose to marry me. You can't form me into the wife you want. You can't control everything, even if you think you have to."

　　What did she know?

　　I stalked toward her.

　　She tossed her head back to meet my furious gaze. Goosebumps flashed across her skin and her nipples hardened, straining against the thin fabric of her nightgown.

　　"Is that so? I control hundreds of men and an entire city, but you think I can't control you?" I stepped closer, backing Amelia into the wall.

　　"Stop intimidating me," she said, trying to step past me. I thrust my arm out, bracing my palm against the wall beside her head, caging her in.

　　"You will obey me."

　　She regarded my arm then looked up. She stepped closer until we were almost touching, throwing me off.

　　"What will you do if I don't obey?"

　　That goddamn strawberry scent filled my nose. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I jerked her toward me and lowered my head for a harsh kiss. She stiffened in my hold, gasped into my mouth. What the fuck was I doing?

AMELIA----------------------------------------------------------------

　　I froze, caught off guard by his sudden closeness. How could he kiss me when he was angry?

　　He turned around with a sharp exhale and stalked a few steps away before he slanted me a cautious look. "You don't have to be scared. I won't force myself on you. Last night was necessary, but I won't seek you out again until you want me to."

　　He sounded tired again and as if he were certain I'd never want him to. What had happened between his wife and him? I pushed the thought of her to the back of my mind, and with it the accompanying uneasiness.

　　I should have said something, but I was overwhelmed—by the situation, by the kiss that still echoed in my lips, by the look in Leo's eyes. I felt like I was caught up in a current, which spun faster and faster, leaving me disoriented. Yesterday morning I'd been me, an eighteen-year-old girl who loved art and Pilates. Now I was a wife, a stepmother, the society lady at an Underboss's side. With all my new roles, was there still room for me?

　　Leo looked at me, nodding slowly as if my expression gave him an answer to a question he hadn't even uttered. He walked over to the bed and sank down. His broad shoulders and back were covered by long, thin vertical scars that I hadn't noticed before. Many of them.

　　I approached him to get a better look. Leo didn't say anything, only looked at me. I pointed at one of the scars then lightly touched it but pulled my hand away after a moment.

　　"You can touch them," Leo said calmly, but his voice had an edgier note to it. I brushed my fingertips over the scars on his shoulder blades and back. Some fathers tortured their sons to make them strong. Leo was strong and brutal. Was his father the reason for it? "Who did this? Your father?"