Becoming the Street Boss - Hayley Faiman Page 0,28
open my door either. He knows to wait for my signal, to wait for me to open my door myself. I instructed him before the ceremony.
“Are you disappointed?” I ask.
I watch as her brows furrow. She thinks about my question, then she inhales a deep breath as she leans in closer to me, shifting her hand away from my mouth, I wait as she moves so that her lips are almost touching my own.
“I don’t know, yet,” she whispers. “I suppose I’ll have to wait to see when you hurt me, and how badly it feels. Because I know that Made Men hurt their wives. I just don’t know to the extent that you will deliver your painful blows.”
Shaking my head once, I lean forward, gently nipping her bottom lip with my teeth. Reaching for the handle of the car door, I tug it open. The driver stands to the side, holding the door open for us.
Slipping out of the limo, I don’t answer her. I’m not going to make her blind promises. I will hurt her, there is no doubt. There is no way for me to say that I won’t. There is also no way for me to know the extent of the pain that I will eventually cause her.
For now, we’ll eat, we’ll dance and we will celebrate our union with friends and family, along with famiglia. Later, I’ll take her virginity, finally owning her body for myself, something that I have dreamed of since the moment I first laid eyes on her.
PIPPA
Massimo walks away from me after we’ve eaten, danced our first dance, and cut our cake. I watch as he makes his way over to Gavino and his small circle of men. Pressing my lips together, I’m unable to take my eyes off of him.
I supposed I didn’t realize it three years ago when I was taken to see my sister. Massimo isn’t just a Made Man. He is one of the men at Gavino’s side. One of his top men.
“You’re beautiful,” a voice says from my side.
Turning my head, I smile at my sister. Rosana is stunning in a pale pink tea-length dress. Her black hair is straight down her back, her makeup subtle and perfect for her age. She’s even wearing small heeled strappy sandals. She looks like the little lady that she is on the cusp of womanhood.
“Thank you,” I breathe as I reach for her and wrap my arms around her body.
She returns my hug, her arms tightening around me. “I feel like I’m losing another of my sisters,” she whispers.
My arms flex. “Never,” I swear. “Never.”
“Rosana,” Irene snaps.
Her body flinches. I want to keep her right here with me. She lifts her head, her eyes looking up at me, watery and on the verge of losing it right here. Shaking my head, I release her, knowing that my aunt will be a bitch if I try to keep her with me.
“You know how to get ahold of me. I will always answer your calls, always. When I know my address, I’ll send it to you. Just know, you are never on your own. You always have me, forever.”
She nods, then turns away from me and makes her way toward Irene. The bitch smirks before she jerks her chin and spins her back to me. I watch as they walk away from me.
Irene is my past and I’m not sad to see her go, but Rosana, I’m not sure of the life that she has ahead of her and I would be a liar if I said that I wasn’t worried.
“Dance?” a man’s voice murmurs. Turning, I smile at a man. He’s a little older, but he looks oddly familiar. “Carlo,” he introduces. “My son is Arlo,” he clarifies. “Dance?” he asks again, extending his palm.
Nodding, I smile as I slip my hand in his. Together we walk out onto the dancefloor. There is a Sinatra song playing and I almost laugh at how much of a cliché it is, but I don’t. Carlo has one of my hands in his, the other resting at my side as he effortlessly twirls me around the dancefloor in my gown.
“You make a beautiful bride, mimma.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my face feeling hot from his compliment.
He hums the tune of the song as he smiles at me. “I don’t have daughters. Just my new one, Lenora. She likes you. Tells me so many good things about you,” he says softly.